The Power of Hands: Healing Without Touch

The Unexpected Beginning

She didn’t walk into my life.
She arrived like a name slipped into a sealed envelope — no context, no story, no clue.
Not a familiar voice. Not a face I’d seen in passing.

Just a string of letters on my phone:
“Talk to her. Just once. Trust her.”

That was it — a message from my cousin Manish.
And somewhere between his insistence and my indifference, I said yes.

I didn’t know who “her” was.
She didn’t know a thing about me either.
There were no breadcrumbs. No shared terrain.
We were two people standing at opposite ends of a blank page.

Still, she offered.
And with half a heart — more guilt than faith — I showed up.
Because honestly, what did I have left to lose?

Showing Up When You’ve Already Given Up

I had already shut every door to therapy.
After two decades of retelling, rewriting, and rebreaking — it felt like a script I no longer believed.
But she didn’t come with protocol or pretence.
She simply offered to talk.

No introductions/agenda/performance.

A Pixelated Beginning, A Real Connection

And so began this strange, pixelated beginning.
On screen.
From opposite sides of a call — a connection I hadn’t planned for.

I sat, mostly sighing.
Unreeling a story I wasn’t even trying to tell.

Yet somehow, she understood.
She caught what I wasn’t saying.
She stayed through the silence, the flicker in my eyes, the ache that had no shape.

Healing Without Touch or History

She didn’t ask for history, chase answers.
She simply waited — for the sound of a woman who had been waiting to just be.
Not fix, explain. Just be.

Unlike the rest, she didn’t rush in to rescue.
She was composed. Calm. Fully present.
She knew when to speak.
And more importantly, when not to.

Each time she offered, I hesitated.
Even then, she didn’t pull.
I was consumed, distant — still, she stayed.

The Power of Hands, Quietly Extended

And then — a few days ago — in person,
in the early haze of what should’ve been just another weekday,
she did something I didn’t expect.

She raised her hand.
Palm up.
Then turned it over.

That’s all.

No touch.
She doesn’t touch.
She doesn’t need to.

Just simple words.
No force. No performance.
Just that gesture.

And it broke something open.

We were talking, but it wasn’t the words that did it.
It was that.
The quiet presence.
The power of her hand — not in contact, but in energy.

It brought out the biggest truth.
Ugly. Raw. Shattering.
But real.

When Presence Speaks Louder Than Words

I saw what I hadn’t.
What I hadn’t felt for myself… in years.
For me.

The Quiet Energy That Heals

She’s no magician.
No spell-casting fairy.
It’s just… the way she holds space.

The energy she carries in stillness.
And the tenderness she extends — not through touch, but through attention. Through being.

To Saumya — The Kindest Soul I Know

Saumya —
You’ve been an anchor.
A mirror.
A true healer.

And the truest, kindest soul I’ve met — with absolutely no expectations.

Because of you, I found someone else too.
A friend. A well of warmth.
An unexpected, overflowing love.

I am ever so grateful.
And I always will be.