At some point in life, we all encounter the slow but strong
grasp of loneliness. It may appear during our time away from home for studies
or work, or perhaps during phases of personal isolation where decisions and
consequences weigh heavy on our hearts. But what if loneliness, rather than
being a void, is actually a doorway—a silent teacher that leads us back to
something far more profound: the truth that we were never truly alone?
Why Are Humans—and Even Animals—Social?
From the dawn of time, human beings have thrived in groups.
We built tribes, communities, cities, and civilizations not just to share
resources, but because companionship is coded into our very biology. Just like
packs of wolves or pods of dolphins, we are designed to live with others.
Being part of a family or a society isn’t just a cultural
construct—it’s a survival mechanism. We care for each other, watch each other’s
backs, share responsibilities, grieve and rejoice together. In fact, even when
you choose to live alone, you still remain inextricably linked to this system.
You are a product of a family, born into a society, functioning in an
economy—everything connects.
Accepting this truth 100% can unlock a rare form of peace:
we are not designed to go it alone.
Loneliness: The Most Expensive Lifestyle
For those who’ve had the experience of living away from
family—be it in a hostel, a different city, or even another country—the initial
rush of independence often fades into a quiet ache. You suddenly understand
that the most basic things—hot food, clean clothes, someone to ask how your day
went—can feel like luxuries when you’re on your own.
And ironically, it’s these people—those who’ve tasted
solitude—who often appreciate family the most. They’ve experienced the hollow
echo of an empty room, the absence of shared laughter, and the overwhelming
silence that comes with making every decision alone.
The expense of being alone isn’t just monetary—although that
too is often significant—it’s emotional, mental, and even spiritual. Being
together isn’t always easy, but it’s far more nourishing. It gives you a reason
to cook, to clean, to plan, to dream.
Why Most Love Stories Happen in College
College or early work life often becomes the playground of
intense emotions. Most people are away from their families for the first time.
They’re vulnerable, discovering themselves, unsure about the future. That’s
when love enters—true or not-so-true.
Why? Because loneliness creates a vacuum, and love rushes in
to fill it. The hunger to be seen, to be known, to be loved becomes stronger
when we’re far from the emotional support of home. These are also the years
when thinkers are born, when disrupters and dreamers are molded in the silence
of solitary hostels and midnight musings.
And here's the magical part: everything starts with one
small choice.
One person chooses to pick up a book and becomes a
scientist. Another chooses to write a poem and falls in love with words.
Someone else takes a risk, makes a friend, or decides to change their world.
From that one choice, everything begins to flow—toward love, discovery,
revolution, or heartbreak.
The Return to Family: A Warm Embrace
For the many of us who aren’t meant to be revolutionaries,
who don’t want to live in constant disruption or emotional upheaval, the return
home is not failure—it’s a conscious return to warmth. It’s the realization
that being average is beautiful, that building a life with someone,
raising kids, making dinner, saving for the future—these are not mundane acts;
they are profound victories.
We begin to see the value of the warm dal-chawal served
without being asked, the clean bedsheet waiting after a long day, the
giggles of a child, the hug of a spouse, the shared responsibility of tomorrow.
We understand that we aren’t just individuals—we are part of
a larger eco-system. A giant family, connected by shared hopes, silent
sacrifices, and endless second chances.
The Choice That Changes Everything
In the end, the journey from loneliness to love, from
isolation to belonging, from confusion to clarity—begins with one small choice.
Whether it’s to call a parent, to forgive a friend, to go home for Diwali, or
to simply sit with someone in silence—it’s a step away from the grasp of
loneliness and into the open arms of community.
Because what you’ll eventually find is this:
“The cost of being alone is much greater than the effort
of staying together.”
So, if you’re in that space right now—feeling disconnected,
misunderstood, or simply alone—remember: the journey back is just one decision
away.
PS: The Expense of Being Alone Isn’t Just Monetary
For those who’ve lived away from family—be it for
studies, work, or personal reasons—the first taste of independence can be
thrilling. But over time, the silence sets in. The small joys that once came
effortlessly—hot food, casual conversation, the comfort of being around loved
ones—start to feel like luxuries. You realize that even freedom comes at a
price.
Ironically, those who’ve walked through the corridors
of solitude often become the ones who value relationships the most. They’ve
sat across empty dinner tables, fallen asleep to the hum of nothingness, and
faced decisions with no safety net. It’s in that hollowness that they begin to
see the invisible threads that family and community once provided.
Now, here’s the flip side: someone who has never truly
crossed paths with loneliness, who’s always had family close and emotional
warmth at arm’s length, may carry a very different worldview. Their thoughts,
behaviors, and even daily practices may not account for the profound inner
shift that solitude can bring.
But if life ever leads them into that grip—into the slow,
suffocating embrace of loneliness—they will often seek a desperate exit.
That moment of emotional confrontation becomes a turning point. It can either
awaken them to the priceless value of relationships, or, if mishandled, push
them to sabotage the very bonds they once held dear. Loneliness doesn’t just
test the heart—it tests the choices we make after feeling it.
Warm Regards,
Amit Raj (Author, Learner & Trader)
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