✍️ By Subhasri Devaraj
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| Image Courtesy: Author [ Subhasri Devaraj] |
It arrives softly — with the alarm ringing earlier than usual and the sky still half asleep.
The first morning of Margazhi feels sacred.
Cold floor under bare feet.
Water sprinkled outside the house.
White kolam powder waiting to become something beautiful.
Colors appear slowly on the ground —
careful lines, quiet focus, a prayer drawn without words.
Even before the sun rises, the day already feels blessed.
Inside the house, something is always simmering.
Prasadam being made before breakfast.
The sound of vessels, the smell of ghee, the warmth of the stove.
No rush. No noise. Just devotion.
The streets look different in Margazhi.
Oil lamps glow outside homes.
Temples open earlier.
The air feels still, as if it’s listening.
Women step out in simple sarees, hair neatly tied, flowers tucked in gently.
Not for style.
For the feeling.
Margazhi mornings remind us to slow down.
To begin the day with gratitude.
To wake up before the world and offer something pure — time, effort, faith.
Before Pongal arrives with celebration,
Margazhi prepares the heart.
And if you’ve ever woken up on a Margazhi morning,
you know —
some peace can only be felt at dawn.
Check this also if you have time: https://amzn.to/3L3wfPm
🧠Disclaimer:
✋ No AI Here:
This blog post was written 100% by me, Subhasri Devaraj, without the use of AI writing tools.
Every word is real, personal, and written from scratch — just like a proper conversation over filter coffee. ☕
No bots. No auto-generated fluff. Just me, talking to you
⚠️ No content here is copied or auto-published. I don't post anything I wouldn’t say to a friend.
📌 Copyright © 2025 — Subhasri Devaraj | The Heartlogue
All rights reserved. Please do not copy, republish, or reprint without permission
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