I used to think ageing was about lines on the face, slower mornings, fewer nights out. Nobody told me that the real ageing happens quietly — inside the heart — in the way emotions soften, deepen, widen. Today, when I look back at the woman I was in my twenties and early thirties, I don’t feel embarrassed. I feel grateful. Because every phase carried its own storms, and every storm taught me how to listen better — to myself and to others.

The way seasons shift without asking for permission – my conversations changed, not overnight, not dramatically, but gently. There was a time when my friends and I spoke in bullet points: Who did what? Who said what? Who hurt whom? Who is winning? Who is losing? Life was a scoreboard then. Emotions were sharp, instant, loud. Today, our conversations are layered. They come with pauses, with sighs…… With unspoken understanding…… We don’t ask, “What happened?” as much as we ask, “Are you okay?”

I have always been blessed with a boys’ gang — men who teased ruthlessly, laughed loudly, debated passionately. In our younger years, these friendships were built on banter, leg-pulling, sarcasm, and endless jokes. Problems were buried under humour. If someone was hurting, we cracked a joke and moved on.

With age, we don’t lose strength; we lose the need to pretend. Today, when we meet, the laughter is still there — but it carries tenderness. We talk about parents ageing, careers stagnating, marriages breaking, children confusing us, loneliness creeping in. With one simple thought alongside, “I don’t know why I feel so tired even after all seems okay.” That one sentence tells us everything about how far we had travelled in life….

Now, a silent nod across the table means more than ten jokes ever did. Now, when someone sends a late-night message — “Can you talk?” — it isn’t weakness anymore. It is trust.

With my girls, the transformation has been even deeper.

We used to compare lives like catalogues — clothes, relationships, social bindings, holidays, insecurities etc. We pretended to be strong when we were secretly scared. Now our conversations are raw. We talk about emotional exhaustion, invisible battles, feeling unseen, losing ourselves in roles we never auditioned for. We no longer compete……. We hold

One friend recently told me, “I don’t need advice. I just need to be heard.” That sentence alone reflects emotional maturity that no self-help book could teach.

Then there are the individual friendships — the ones that don’t belong to any gang, any group chat. These are the souls who see me when I don’t perform. Where I don’t have to be inspiring, witty, or productive.

A ten-minute call with such a friend can heal a week’s worth of stress. We speak of small things: a bad morning, a forgotten dream, an aching silence. No solutions, no fixing — just sharing.

And strangely, the older we get, the more we cherish these quiet connections. We don’t need constant presence anymore……. we need honest presence.

There was a time when WhatsApp was about forwards, jokes, memes, and group chaos. Now it has become sacred space.

A single “Did you eat?”
A heart emoji sent at the right moment.
A voice note saying, “I thought of you today.”

These are not messages. They are bridges.

In this phase of life, even a simple “Good morning, stay strong” has weight. Because it tells me someone remembered. Someone paused their rushing life and thought of me. That is emotional ageing.

Age teaches you something no lecture can: everyone is fighting a battle they didn’t choose.

The angry colleague? Probably exhausted at home.
The friend who cancelled again? Probably overwhelmed.
The silent one? Probably carrying grief that doesn’t fit into words.

I don’t rush to conclusions anymore. I rush to compassion. I no longer need people to be perfect. I need them to be real

And the more I accept others, the more I accept myself — flaws, delays, confusions and all.

What I have realised is simple yet profound: emotional maturity is not about becoming tougher. It is about becoming softer without breaking.

Today, I count moments, not milestones. A smile across a coffee table. A late-night “Take care”. A call made even when words are missing. Every effort counts. Every smile is valued.

Because love is no longer about intensity. It is about consistency. This is how we beautifully age in our emotions — not by adding years to life, but by adding depth to connection.

Here is a more romantic, heart-touching English version inspired by Rumi’s softness:

We no longer count our years, we count the ways we feel,
How a quiet thought can suddenly make the world real.
What once was pride now melts into gentle care,
We don’t chase victories, we just long to be there.
A missed call becomes a tender thread of the soul,
A whispered “I thought of you” makes us whole.
Every smile turns sacred, every effort divine,
And love grows deeper as your heart ages into mine.