Today, I share a deeply personal and true story — one that belongs to a close friend whose journey I have witnessed up close, so much so that his pain often felt like my own. With his permission, I bring this story to light in the hope that it reaches someone, somewhere, who needs to hear it. Perhaps it will offer strength, perspective, or simply the comfort of knowing they’re not alone. As Rumi so profoundly wrote, “The wound is the place where the Light enters you“

It was a Monday, starting of the week and I got a call, which got missed as I was in meeting, then after an hour I called back,

Me:
“Hey! I saw your missed call. Everything okay?”

Him (with a joy in voice):
“Everything’s better than okay. It’s finally over… All of it.”

There was a long pause. Not the kind of silence that feels empty, but the one that holds years of tears, screams, prayers, and aching hearts.

Me:
“What do you mean? Over as in…?”

Him:
“All the cases. Every last one of them. Dismissed. Quashed. The legal circus is finally over. Fourteen years of madness. I’m free.”

His words hit me like thunder on a chaotic week day. I remember every detail of this battle — a fight that began not with fists or guns, but with betrayal and a brutal misuse of the judicial system.

He had married an Indian girl after his first marriage had fallen apart. He is a foreign citizen, grounded yet open to love, to rebuilding life. But this second marriage crumbled within a few months. Compatibility was nowhere to be found. They divorced amicably in the country they were living in. Or so he thought.

What followed was a nightmare wrapped in court summons, FIRs, and warrants — false allegations lodged in India by his ex-wife and her family.

Him:
“Do you remember when my dad passed away? I couldn’t even come for his last rites. I sat in a foreign land, cursing myself, feeling that my dad will never forgive me for not being their in his pyre.”

Me:
“I remember.”

The pain that the Indian legal system inflicted on this man — emotionally, financially, and physically — was staggering. It wasn’t just him. His mother and all family were dragged into it. The madness of Indian legal system was so evident and he just felt trapped & frustrated.

Him:
“Fourteen years of being treated like a criminal. Fourteen years of ‘next date’, ‘adjourned’, ‘missing file’, ‘judge on leave’. All for what? Ego? Revenge? Misplaced benefits to women?”

Me:
“You’re a survivor. You didn’t let it destroy you, even when it nearly did.”

Him:
“Nearly? It did destroy me. I lost trust in love. I stopped believing in people. Everyone seemed fake. I’d meet people and all I could see was a mask. For years, I thought, ‘Something must be wrong with me.’ Two failed marriages. Accusations. Silence from friends & relatives, the judgement in their eyes.”

“But you know what Oprah Winfrey said, “Turn your wounds into wisdom.”

He recounted the years he spent in and out of therapy, his struggle with insomnia, the days he didn’t eat, the weeks he didn’t wanted to speak to anyone. And how, even in the middle of all this chaos, he kept working, kept building a life for his daughter — his one reason to go on.

Him:
“I lived for her, fought for her, and today, I start living for myself too.“

‘Try not to resist the changes that come your way. Instead, let life live through you.’ – Rumi

Me:
“She is your legacy. You gave her a amazing parenting and understanding about life, despite the wreckage you walked through.”

We sat in silence for a bit, connecting across the miles.

Him:
“I don’t hate her anymore. My ex. Or her family. What they did was wrong. But hate… it poisons the soul. I’m done carrying that. I want to travel, write a book, maybe even fall in love again. as I truly believe in these lines of Rumi ‘Don’t grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form.’

His voice felt lighter. Not weightless — years of grief don’t vanish overnight — but freer.

Me:
“You’ve always given people around you hope. Even when you were hurting. You helped others see light while sitting in your own dark tunnel.”

Him:
I am what I am maybe because I feel that if we are like a tree and let the dead leaves drop, our lives will be much lighter and happier. I always had this back of my mind that I need to show to my daughter that grace is stronger than bitterness.

After I kept down the phone a sprint of thoughts wandered inside me , going through a legal battle is one of the most harrowing experiences a human being can endure. I’ve seen it up close, and I can say with certainty—it’s not just a fight in courtrooms, it’s a war within your soul. The process strips you of your identity, your dignity, and sometimes even your WILL to carry on. Every hearing feels like another winter passing through your heart, cold and indifferent. You begin to question everything—your faith, your relationships, even your self-worth.

The agony isn’t just in the accusations or the judgments—it’s in the waiting, the silence, the way society looks at you with suspicion. It’s in the way people slowly pull away, unsure whether to stand by you or step back for their own safety. You wake up each day with a weight you didn’t choose, carrying labels you didn’t earn.

There are days you scream for justice, but the system isn’t built to hear emotions. It runs on papers and procedures, while your dreams die quietly in the background. The worst part is not knowing why this happened to you. Why you had to suffer so much. Why the truth didn’t matter sooner.

And yet… after all the storms, there comes a strange stillness. A tired but deep peace. When the battle ends—not always with victory, but with closure—you begin to reclaim what you lost inside. You forgive, not because they deserve it, but because you deserve to be free.

I’ve realized peace is more important than justice. Because justice, in this world, is flawed. Might be because there is no black and white its grey. But peace—that’s yours to choose. That’s how you begin to heal. No hate, no blame—just the quiet flame of starting over, rising again.

“When everything seems to be going against you, remember that the airplane takes off against the wind, not with it.” — Henry Ford