We weren’t fighting—we were just… strangers

Our marriage wasn’t broken in the usual way. There were no screaming fights, no threats of divorce. But there was nothing left—no laughter, no late-night talks, no spark. We lived in the same house, raised our children, managed bills, but inside, we were strangers.

I didn’t realize how far we had drifted until my daughter asked, “Why don’t you and Papa smile together?” That pierced me. I confided in my sister, who gently said, “Talk to Dayaram ji. He helps couples see each other again.”

When we spoke to him, Pandit Ji didn’t dismiss our emptiness. He said softly, “Not every marriage ends with fire—some fade into ash. But even ash can glow again.” Those words gave me a strange kind of hope.

He performed a 7–11 day Yagya for us, and guided us through small but meaningful shifts: share one daily ritual together (evening tea), stop sleeping with the TV on, and exchange gratitude instead of complaints—no matter how small.

The first few days felt forced. We sat awkwardly, sipping tea without words. But as the days passed, something softened. One evening, my husband cracked a joke like he used to. I laughed harder than I had in months. By the end of the process, our evenings felt lighter. The silence was no longer heavy—it was comfortable.

We’re still the same two people, but now there’s warmth again. We don’t just share a house—we share a life.

Pandit Ji told us, “Love doesn’t vanish; it waits for you to notice it again.” That’s what happened for us. We noticed, and we chose to bring it back.