Peace Calls

Pathways of Courage

2026-07-31T18:18:08.638-07:00

Few months ago, I had the privilege of participating in Pathways to Courage: Tools for Inner Strength, Dialogue, and Social Transformation—an enriching journey offered by the Euphrates Institute .

Guided by Fran Faraz and thoughtfully supported by Hollister Thomas, this experience created a rare and intentional space to pause, reflect, and reconnect with what it truly means to lead with courage. We were blessed to have a wise group of leaders from across the country as participants who made this journey very special.

The course invited us to explore courage not as something loud or forceful, but as something deeply rooted in stillness, humility, discipline and truth. Through practices grounded in Ahimsa, Ubuntu, and Nonviolent Communication, I was reminded that inner work is inseparable from the work of social transformation.

As part of my reflection, I found myself returning to poetry—my way of making meaning, of holding both strength and surrender in the same breath.

I’m sharing this piece that emerged from that

I am deeply grateful for this experience, and for the community that held space with such openness and intention. I carry these learnings forward—with renewed clarity, humility, and courage.

Stand your ground,
And be still.
To the Lord of love and truth,
Completely surrender your will.

Keep your head up
As you draw strength in humility.
Know what is right from wrong,
Yet do not neglect our shared humanity.

Know power from power
Influence, agency, might, and authority.
All sit gently within you, too;
Employ them with empathy and integrity.

Even when filth fills the scene,
Focus on your own truth.
Speak from love, peace, and compassion,
No matter how great the dispute.

Fear will try its best,
Still, walk forward with faith.
On the pathways of courage,
Let the Almighty guide your gait.

Mubarkan, America. 🇺🇸

2026-07-04T04:17:01.489-07:00

Two hundred and fifty years ago, a nation was built on freedom, possibilities, and the courage to dream beyond boundaries. Today, as fireworks light up the sky and voices rise in celebration, I find myself reflecting not just on history, but on what it means to belong here.

Like any nation, there is still a lot of work to be done. There are things that need fixing. But today, I choose gratitude.

I am grateful that I can celebrate this day as an Indian American with the freedom to wear my saree and my bindi as I join in the festivities of this historic occasion. I still remember my first Fourth of July, I was deployed for a disaster response in Washington DC and was serving as the FEMA Liaison and we would walk between the American Red Cross and FEMA through the Washington Mall. That day after we finished our shift, Mike and I parked ourselves on the grass on the mall and watched the fire works. I guess that really kickstarted my American journey.

I am deeply grateful for all the freedoms my family and I enjoy. I am thankful for those who sacrificed so we could live the life we are living today.

I am grateful that I married the man I love, even though we come from different races and ethnicities, and that we have been able to build our life together without fear of persecution. Joe and I freely hold our hands walk anywhere in this country breathing the air of freedom.

I am grateful that my husband, a military veteran, receives the healthcare he has earned through his service, and that in this season of his life he has the freedom to work, serve, and rest as he chooses. I am grateful for the doctors, nurses, technicians and all the support staff in Veterans Affairs hospitals who provide the best care Joe every single time.

I am grateful that my brown-skinned immigrant son worked hard to build his own small business, creating opportunities and providing employment for others. He feels just as American as anyone else, and as an immigrant mother, that is a powerful feeling.

Today, I will celebrate with my Pakistani American sisters at a dance party honoring a friend who is getting married. We will laugh, dance, and rejoice together without fear of oppression, the music pulsing through the room as our bangles clink and our laughter rises above it all. Coming from South Asia, I certainly do not take that for granted.

I am deeply grateful for m dear American sisters and brothers who welcomed my family and me when we made this country our home. Thank you to every person who patiently listened to my Indian English, understood what I was trying to say, and embraced me even when my words may have sounded unfamiliar or imperfect. I am particularly thinking of my very first team in the American Red Cross, Amy, Beth, Zach, Julie, Jono and Virginia. Thank you!

Most of all, I am grateful for my voice, a voice rooted in my Indian heritage and flourishing on American soil. Because of the freedoms I have found here, I have been able to write my poetry without fear, teach and facilitate learning across the United States and around the world, and serve on the boards of the American Red Cross and Euphrates as an immigrant who was welcomed, trusted, and given the opportunity to lead.

I remember the first time I spoke up in a meeting, my heart was pounding but my words were steady, realizing I was heard. I love the freedom to praise what is good and appreciate the space to question what does not make sense. And I continue to speak, sometimes with gratitude and pride, other times with disappointment, and at times with a trembling voice but nonetheless, I speak. I acknowledge not all immigrant stories end up like mine and I wish there was more acceptance for the strangers who bring goodwill and dreams to this nation. May I always raise my voice to question injustices, build bridges, serve others, and contribute to the promise of this nation and of the global peace.

Happy Independence Day, America. 🇺🇸

When the Sky Is Darkest, Let Us Shine Our Brightest!

2026-01-30T10:29:00.000-08:00

I am probably going to say something many of us are feeling.

As we witness the mounting challenges across the world in the countries where we live and/or in the countries of our birth, it has become clear that what is happening at the geopolitical level is no longer abstract. It is shaping our personal lives in very real ways: through job loss, rising costs of living, deepening divisions, and growing polarization within our families and communities.

Beyond our individual struggles, we are confronted daily with painful realities. Innocent people are assaulted, detained, or deported. Lawful citizens lose their lives during peaceful protests. Journalists are targeted for telling stories that those in power would rather keep hidden. Millions of people across the globe are living in fear, afraid for their own lives, terrified of losing loved ones hiding in their homes or standing in the streets, struggling to be heard.

Photo credit: Iran International - https://www.iranintl.com/en/202601168709

If this is the burden adults are carrying, I cannot help but ask: what are children absorbing? What kinds of trauma are being etched into young minds, into children, adolescents, and even infants, especially when our systems are not built to offer sustained, meaningful professional support?

Photo credit: https://www.unicef.org/emergencies

Many of us are living with high levels of stress. Some of us are experiencing high levels of stress, anxiety and depression and quietly withdrawing from our social lives.

I faced the loss of my job with courage and determination. I tried to stay grounded, to keep moving forward. Yet what is happening in this country and in the world has begun to weigh heavily on my mental health. I am doing my best to stay resilient, to refuse defeat. I am grateful to still be invited into professional spaces and meaningful work. And yet, the recent events where a humanitarian act to protect someone in need has become grounds for killing are profoundly difficult to process alone.

When I first realized I was going to lose my job, I fell into depression and immediately began therapy. That support, however, lasted only a few weeks. Once I lost my job, I also lost my health insurance, and with it, the ability to continue professional care. After that, I did everything I could to stay afloat on my own. I stayed professionally engaged where I could, continued to serve in my church, and leaned on the strength of my family and friends. For a while, that was enough.

But it has now been four months without a job, without health insurance, and without a steady source of income. As I try to make sense of this new chapter in my life, I realize that I am also carrying the weight of what is happening in my country and across the world. These two realities cannot be separated.

It feels as though those with power, the power that comes with money, systems, and authority at all levels are increasingly exercising it without restraint or compassion. This may not be true of everyone, but abuse of power is becoming more visible and more normalized across the globe. The humanity we once hoped to see in leadership and decision-making seems to be eroding. At times, it feels as though every sincere effort toward good is being overpowered by a hunger for control and self-interest. It feels like simply being decent no longer feels encouraged.

I believe what I am experiencing is shared by many in the humanitarian community. Some of us are facing a slow, subtle, and deeply dangerous erosion, a kind of humanitarian depression that threatens to numb our souls. So what do we do? Do we allow ourselves to slide quietly into depression and hopelessness?

We must shake ourselves awake, if we can and do so with radical self-care, meeting our hurting selves with deep kindness.

Let us name what we are feeling. Let us verbalize our fear, grief, anger, and exhaustion. Let us seek support and process these realities in safe and compassionate spaces. Let us reach out and support each other. Let us resist the abuse of power by leaning into our own agency, grounded in empathy and humanity. Let us build on our collective power, power that comes from inner resilience, unity, love and goodness. And let us continue our humanitarian work with the same courage and determination that brought us here in the first place.

Stars shine brightest when the sky is darkest. In this time of oppression, violence, polarization, and pain, may we choose to bring hope, compassion, kindness, love, and humanity into action—just as we always have.

When it is tough being good, let us resolve to be Pretti Good!

Photo credit: Instagram account - francescoemilioborrelli

Love and Compassion over Hate and Oppression.

2026-01-18T12:35:00.000-08:00

Jesus taught that the Kingdom of God is in our midst, and He calls us to seek it first. But this raises an essential question: What does this Kingdom look like when it is truly lived out? What scenes and behaviors mark the reign of God among us? Are they shaped by love and compassion or by hatred and oppression? Do they reflect forgiveness and mercy or violence and cruelty?

When we look at the life and teachings of Jesus, the answer becomes clear. The Kingdom of God is revealed wherever dignity is restored, mercy is extended, and love is practiced without exception. It is present wherever compassion triumphs over fear, and grace over judgment..

I am deeply grateful for our church that gives me the platform to remind us that, as Christians, we are called not to hate, but to love. Through compassion and mercy, we are called to honor the humanity of every person without conditions, without exclusions. Ultimately, the question before us is not whether we call ourselves Christians, but whether we truly follow Christ by practicing the love, mercy, and grace that define His Kingdom.

Let us seek the Kingdom of God and His Righteousness!

An Open Letter for Healing and Humanity:

2026-01-12T17:31:00.000-08:00

Dear Jonathan Ross,

I hope you and your family are safe.

I am writing to you as a citizen who has been deeply affected by what happened three days ago in Minneapolis, where a beautiful life was lost in a matter of seconds. I am reaching out through my blog because I do not know how else to contact you, and I understand you may be unreachable at this time.

When I first saw the video of the shooting, I felt overwhelmed with anger and grief. I was filled with pain for Renee and her family, especially her children and her wife. As those emotions settled, another feeling emerged: fear—fear for my family and for my friends.

Last night, strong winds caused our screen door to repeatedly bang against its wooden frame. Each time it slammed, my heart skipped a beat. In my mind, I imagined several armed ICE officers standing at my door. I am a naturalized citizen with no criminal record, and yet I felt terrified. If I am living with this level of fear, I cannot help but wonder what it feels like for those who are also law-abiding residents, those navigating immigration processes, and those who remain undocumented.

Then I thought of a dear friend who works for U.S. Customs and Border Protection. He is a military veteran and one of the kindest people I know. I tried to see his face in you, Jonathan. In that moment, compassion surfaced.

You and your family must be facing immense uncertainty right now. I am sorry that all of you are living through this. I believe that many people who wear a uniform do so with the intention of serving and protecting, and yet sometimes circumstances lead to irreversible harm. When you put on that uniform, I do not believe you chose this outcome or the weight that now accompanies it.

I do not know what you were feeling in those moments, and I will not pretend to fully understand what happened. Many people, including officials and commentators, are expressing certainty about the events, but the truth is that very few of us know exactly what led to such a tragic loss of life.

I understand that ICE has a legal mandate that includes enforcement actions. You and I both know that there are different ways to carry out that mandate. Questioning, detaining, and even deporting people can be done with restraint and humanity. When force and weapons dominate an interaction, people often see fear before they see a human being. Fear can escalate fear—on all sides.

I offer this not as an accusation, but as a plea: let people see the human being behind the tactical gear, the loving parent, the considerate spouse, the funny friend. When compassion is present, the cycle of fear can be interrupted.

If the goal is to make this country safer, escalating fear will only make it more volatile. Division will not make a nation stronger. Unity will. So we must ask ourselves what truly builds unity—fear and aggression, or patience and empathy.

And if the unspoken aim is to remove those who look different, speak different languages, practice different cultures, or worship differently, we must ask: what is the endgame? A homogenous society built on fear, pain, and suffering would leave no one unscathed. Today, Renee’s family is grieving. Your family is living with uncertainty. Millions of people across this country are carrying fear. I do not believe this was the future anyone intended when that day began.

So where do we go from here? How do we move forward in a way that prevents anyone—citizen or officer—from ever being placed in such a moment again?

Less fear and more friendship.
Less intimidation and more compassion.
Less aggression and more calm.

Law enforcement is most effective when it is rooted in humanity, because the ultimate goal of the law is justice.

Brother, I do not write this to condemn you, nor to absolve you. I write because a life was lost, many lives were shaken, and all of us now carry responsibility for what comes next. I hope that, in time, truth, accountability, and healing can find their way forward—for Renee’s family, for your family, and for a nation struggling to remember its humanity. May we choose paths that protect life, reduce fear, and build a stronger nation built on the principles of liberty and democracy.

In peace,

Anjana

Author’s note: This reflection is written from personal experience and concern for human life, not as a statement of legal fact.

To All the Renees

2026-01-10T07:48:00.000-08:00

I am scared. As a Brown immigrant, currently unemployed, and a mother living in the United States, I am scared for many people, including my family. But right now, I am most scared for my dear friends who look like Renee Nicole Good. I can’t stop appreciating their commitment to supporting and protecting those who have been historically marginalized in this society.

I keep returning to something one of my friends said last year:
“I plan to stand near the voting lines just in case Black or Brown people are intimidated by the authorities. I will step in between any potential harm and them, because I know they won’t shoot at me.”

No, Rachel. They will shoot at you. Please don’t put yourself in harm’s way. We cannot lose another precious soul to this absolutely unacceptable and shameless oppression. And unfortunately, many people, especially those in power, will justify your killing and call you a domestic terrorist.

I am sinking along with the humanitarian values in American society. When I moved to the United States over a decade ago, I remember thinking, this is a fairer society. Today, I am no longer sure of that. Lust for power, and the abuse of it, have taken increasingly disturbing forms.

It feels like demons are triumphing in the dark with loud noise, where all other voices are diminished, faces are hidden, and many souls simply vanish—just like that.

And yet, I refuse to believe this is the end of the story. Let’s honor Renee’s life, regardless of who we are in terms of gender, race, citizenship status, age, sexual orientation, and/or any other factors that divide us. Let’s be united in being inspired by her courage and her ability to remain calm when she faced the ultimate ugliness of humanity. Let’s take her legacy forward.

https://www.cnn.com/2026/01/08/us/renee-nicole-good-minneapolis-ice-shooting-hnk

We will be victorious. No darkness can resist the power of light for too long. Faith will eventually grow stronger and calm our fears. Our voices—spoken collectively, louder and repeatedly—will be heard. The dawn always comes. The sun always conquers the night.

We shall overcome.
Venceremos.
Hum honge kamyaab.

Dear, Inner Me!

2025-12-05T10:54:00.000-08:00

This year has been tough at so many levels. I climbed new mountains with abundant grace from above and lots and lots of support from family and friends. Yes, I feel tired, disappointed and eager to see what’s next. At the same time, I am filled with gratitude when I look back at this year. And I am also proud of myself.

When I ponder on where I began my life’s journey, what all I experienced, where I am today and who I have become, I feel good. Criticism will always find a way to us but it is extremely important to also acknowledge the goodness and resilience that we all carry within.

Every new mountain we climb we become a better version of ourselves. And I am grateful for all the mountains in my life and welcome new ones. In the meantime, I continue to love myself and be proud of ‘inner me’. Hope you treat your ‘inner you’ with kindness and love too. ♥️

Here’s to Inner Me:

Know that I am proud of you, inner me.

For keeping that light alive within me.

When they pulled the floor beneath your feet,

For standing on your values, anchored in dignity.

When slander and self-doubt tried to pull you down,

Emerging with grace and certainty.

For amplifying the voice of those who couldn’t speak up,

No matter what the policy, for continuing advocacy.

For learning to whirl in the storm,

No matter what, for allowing me to be me!

For climbing and conquering the mountains,

Resting for a bit and climbing again unapologetically!

Even though hate is taking new forms everyday,

For sustaining love in and around me ♥️

For prioritizing inner peace in the midst of adversity,

And being courageous with compassion and humility.

For not assigning power to those who did not deserve it,

And always remembering who holds the destiny.

Rise, United States of America!

2025-11-08T18:25:00.000-08:00

This poem is not about playing partisan politics. It is an attempt to give voice to the pain and agony our hearts are feeling as we witness human rights being violated in different parts of our country by those who are supposed to protect them. Immigrants are being treated in the most inhumane ways in a nation built by immigrants. I am not questioning the legal processes through which one can become a resident or a citizen of this country. However, government agents must also follow the legal processes put in place for their conduct. Everyone, without exception, deserves to be treated with dignity and respect. One must not break the law in the name of enforcing the law. These atrocities against fellow human beings must be stopped immediately.

Does one need American citizenship

To prove one’s humanity?

Is being white a prerequisite

To expect equality?

Is American accent a requirement

To be treated with dignity?

https://tennesseelookout.com/2025/05/20/tennessees-immigration-dragnet-moves-the-state-away-from-its-commitment-to-human-rights/

Would they snatch a baby

From the arms of a mother who looked like their wife?

If those teenagers were from their clan,

Would they still incarcerate them for petty vice?

Would they deport their own grandparents

Who crossed boarders without legal files?

https://abc7chicago.com/post/us-immigration-news-ice-arrests-courts-chicago-nationwide-labeled-unlawful-new-lawsuit-trump-administration/17186490/

So what is inside them that allows them

To treat others in an inhumane way?

Aren’t laws and procedures supposed to be the same for all?

In this land of the free, are all men still equal today?

Or is this the greatest lie we all believe in?

Or it is just an old idea that is fading away?

https://bible.art/p/Q4xIaTO1uRcCHRpbGAuO/jesus-feeding-the-multitude

Consider brothers, could it be Jesus,

That stranger who was hungry and needed compassion?

We often question other faiths

But are we truly following our own religion?

What would Jesus do if he met a hungry crowd looking to him for food?

He would surely feed them as per the legend!

https://inspiremykids.com/united-we-stand-divided-we-fall/

Evoke compassion, O great nation,
Arise, America—protect humanity!
Generate collective courage, world’s superpower,
Awake, America—preserve your humanity!
Cease and desist violations of human rights,
Rise, America—proclaim humanity!

Selma Bridge Calling us (Late post)

2025-10-31T17:36:00.000-07:00

Thank you Euphrates Institute for embracing me as part of your wonderful team and taking me on to this meaningful journey to Montgomery and Selma.

For the last few years, I feel like I am on a pilgrimage where my travels have taken me to various milestones of the Civil Rights Movement. Couple of years ago, work took me to Atlanta where i visited Morehouse College, Ebenezer Baptist church and The King Center. We also had the opportunity to meet with Dr. Bernice King! Later I was asked to be one of the 2024 Senior Fellows at the center. After a few months, I got to visit the Civil Rights museum in Memphis and then the National Museum of African American History and Culture in DC.

Needless to say, every time I visit one of these museums, I cry and feel frustrated with us as humans. However, this last trip hit me a bit differently, I felt some new emotions as well.

When I came out of the Peace and Justice memorial in Montgomery, I felt a sense of victory after I a few bouts of crying. Victory because the truth is being told with courage. Truth about the thousands of people who were lynched and millions of people who were separated from their families before and after they brought to western world and enslaved ruthlessly. I have added a little video of my experience below, my voice and words are failing me because of how overwhelmed I felt.

Walking on the Edmund Pettus Bridge was yet another powerful experience. As I visualized the Civil Rights Movement leaders being beaten brutally on the Bloody Sunday, I wondered if I would be able to march forward for what is right in spite of the violent opposition? If our ancestors didn’t walk that day, would we have the freedoms we have today? And if we don’t walk today for what we believe in, how will we face tomorrow?

When there’s chaos and confusion out in the world, we look within to find the strength to carry on. I draw my strength from my faith, love of my family and friends, and the values my parents gave me. And to navigate through today’s polarized world, I lean on our own Fundamental Principles of the Red Cross Red Crescent Movement. As an American in 2025, I am deeply grateful to be a Red Crosser.

There might be mayhem around us,
but let’s hold on to the calm within us.
And unleash the fountain of love from deep inside,
to hold in our arms those who need us.

The magic is always within us.
Let’s take a deep dive into our core.
There live peace and all the answers,
for us to embrace and explore!

Yes, there is fear in the heart,
but courage lies right beneath it.
We ought to go beyond all doubts
and bathe in the chutes of faith and grit!

Yes, the journey is long and hard,
but we too have the inner fire.
If anyone will win this, it is us.
When we go deeper, we soar higher.

Let’s breathe and take it easy,
let’s light up other vessels with our little light.
And as we protect our inner peace,
let us glow and shine bright!

I Am Waiting - UNSCR 1325

2025-10-31T17:35:00.000-07:00

I was recently invited by Shanti Shoji from Sasakawa USA to participate in the workshop on ‘The Next Chapter of Women, Peace and Security: Practical Action Through Prevention and Partnerships’ at the International Peace Institute (IPI) to commemorate the 25th anniversary of UN Security Council Resolution 1325.

I am grateful for the hard work that has gone into advancing the Women, Peace and Security agenda. However, we know, based on the statistics, we have a long way to go here in the US and globally.

The night before the workshop, I went to bed reflecting on how I could participate in the dialogue with wisdom and presence. In the middle of the night, a dream awakened me, a woman’s voice whispering, “I am waiting.”

As I sat in the train from Washington, D.C. to New York, her words lingered in my mind. They stirred something deep within me, and a poem that insisted on being written. Thank you, Shanti, for creating the space for us to share this woman’s voice in the workshop:

I am in the line,
Waiting for my turn,
To get bread for my children.
I am a mother in Gaza,
Sudan, Ukraine, and America.
I am waiting for the time
When I will have control over my body.
I am a young woman in India,
Nigeria, Iran, and America.
I am waiting for my voice to be heard.
I am an immigrant woman in Russia,
Denmark, Mexico, and America.
I am waiting for pay equity.
I am a hardworking woman in Slovakia,
Guatemala, Kenya, and America.
I am waiting for peace and safety.
I am a grandmother in Syria,
Israel, Kashmir, and America.
I have been waiting for a long time,
While they wage wars,
Send my children to die,
Shut down governments,
Greed for more land,
Find ways to control me—
All in the name of saving me and my children.
I have never heard of 1325.
The only number I know is five—
My five starving children in the cold.
I am found all over the world.
Every country finds a way
To keep me waiting
For one fundamental right or another.
And somehow, in almost every context,
I find the influence of America.
Yet, I struggle every day—
Just like the sun in the sky.
Every day, I conquer the darkness—
and I rise.
I rise for myself,
my children,
and humanity.
And with me struggles America,
To free herself from those who wage wars,
Send my children to die,
Shut down governments,
Greed for more land,
Find ways to control me—
All in the name of saving me and my children.

Where did kindness go?

2025-06-25T14:21:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I wonder if the world is less kinder than it was before. I look around and I find increased polarization and hatred. It seems more women, children, humanitarian workers, and journalists are being killed in the current wars than what we know from the past. Maybe it is just me and nothing has really changed. Maybe kindness was always scarce and social media has just made it more clear. Or maybe we are more divided now than before. Human lives lost in conflicts have become mere numbers for many. The value of life is not the same for everyone. We are desensitized to the photos of children in the underground bomb bunkers or starving on the streets. Why isn't the whole world coming together protect our children and other innocent civilians?

Where did kindness go?
Isn’t it supposed to live in every heart?
Or is it only given to a few—
Is that what sets them apart?

Or maybe everyone has the capacity to be kind,
But most are kind only to their own kind?
And how do they decide who is “their kind”?
There are so many kinds in the human mind!

Can we all lean on compassion
As we take each action—
Chase, and channel, kindness in everything?
Or is that too much to petition?

Where did kindness go?
Maybe it’s far gone.
A world without kindness is dark and dire—
We must collect our courage as we wait for the dawn.

It’s fading away
In the midst of hate and lies.
Kindness will need our courage to survive—
Let’s do all we can to keep it alive.

The Light Within Us

2024-09-21T16:14:00.000-07:00

We are all born with a little light within us. Sometimes we are responsible in diminishing that light within us and in others. We must be intentional in stoking that light within us and in others. We can also be intentional about being with people who stoke that light within us, so it shines bright. On this International Day of Peace, I share with you a poem that was inspired by a question during a keynote speech in a meeting last week, ‘Who stokes your light?”

I feel when we stoke each other’s light, our lights shine even brighter. The next question then is, who’s light will I stoke today?

https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/shadows-in-the-sun/201402/the-light-within