Krishnan's Personal Website

Tonight, I sat by the beach in Pondicherry, at a spot that holds a special place in my heart. This is where my grandmother's ashes were immersed, and every time I visit, I feel a deep connection with her. But tonight was different.  

The lighthouse in the distance cast its steady beam, reminding me of childhood days when I would run to the terrace, eager to catch a glimpse of its light. Back then, it shone freely, stretching across the marina and beyond. But now, modern buildings block its reach, just as time and life often obscure the things we once took for granted. Still, the lighthouse stands tall, its presence undeniable—just like my grandmother’s presence in my life, even after she’s gone.  

The night sky was still, the moon hidden behind clouds, and only a few stars peeked through. A cool breeze wrapped around me, touching not just my skin but something deeper within. Usually, when I sit here, I talk to my grandmother, pray, or ask her for guidance. But tonight, I did none of that.  

Tonight, my mind wasn’t racing. It wasn’t searching for answers or chasing memories. It was just… still. For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t thinking—I was feeling. And in that silence, in that calmness, I realized something. Maybe she was there. Maybe she knew exactly what I needed.  

My grandmother had schizophrenia, but we only understood that months after she passed away. Growing up, I never knew the words for it. It was my first encounter with mental illness, though at the time, it was just a mystery, something no one could explain. She lived her entire life battling something we never fully grasped, and looking back, I wonder how much she must have struggled, how much she must have endured in silence.  

And yet, despite everything, she was love. She was warmth. She was strength.  

Sitting there tonight, wrapped in peace, I felt lighter, as if something heavy had lifted. Maybe it was her way of telling me that she’s okay, that she’s free. Or maybe it was her way of reminding me that I don’t always need to ask for anything—sometimes, just being is enough.  

I didn’t want to leave, but I knew I had to. So, I walked away with the cool breeze still on my skin, the lighthouse still shining, and my grandmother’s presence still wrapped around me. And I knew—this feeling, this peace, would always be with me, no matter where I go.