Tanu Reflects

The two men in the park

always sit by the same bench—

weathered wood beneath them,

stories folded in silence.

Some days, a beer can between them.

Some days, a stranger—

equally broken, equally brief.

They look homeless.

Maybe they are.

But their laughter doesn’t beg,

and their eyes don’t steal.

Their words scatter like dry leaves—

hard to catch,

but not unkind.

I’ve heard they were once

skilled with their hands,

sharp with their minds.

Now, their coats hang heavy,

their beards hold crumbs,

and the world walks past

without looking.

I sit across the path,

coffee in hand,

and wonder—

what unraveled?

Where are their families?

Do they have names that used to echo in halls?

Birthdays once remembered?

Perhaps they are each other’s family now—

bound not by blood,

but by the soft comfort

of someone who never asks

you to explain

why you ended up here.

And maybe that’s all any of us needs—

someone who stays,

even when the world forgets.

– Tanu
#Tanureflects

This has been a long time coming.

I’ve carried these words for years — in the corners of notebooks, in unsent emails, in WhatsApp messages I never saved. I’ve written while walking the dog, while lying awake in bed, while stirring tea and memories. Some stories came fully formed, others arrived like stubborn clouds — slow, shapeless, lingering.

But they always returned. And now, I’m giving them a home.

Tanureflects isn’t just a blog. It’s a quiet room. A place where I’ll gather my musings — essays, poems, stories, and fragments from a life lived with intensity and care. A life where nothing has come easy, but everything has meant something.

I don’t write because I’ve figured it all out. I write because language lets me sit with the things I haven’t. It’s how I process the pain, the beauty, the grief, the loneliness, the wonder. It’s how I honour the ones I’ve lost, the versions of myself I’ve outgrown, and the moments that still sit heavy in my chest.

Here, you’ll find writing rooted in lived experience. Sometimes joyful, sometimes bruised. Stories of love that burned too brightly, grief that left no instructions, the quiet ache of starting over, and the courage it takes to live on your own terms.

If you’re here, reading this, thank you.
I hope these musings feel like conversation — like a hand held loosely, not a lecture. I hope something in these words feels familiar, or freeing, or quietly seen.

Because the truth is, I have lived deeply.
I have experienced intensely.
And I write passionately.

This is where it begins.

– Tanu
#Tanureflects