"Too young to worry, Too old to smile"

Eight months ago, I took on a role I never imagined would redefine my life—the primary caregiver to my non-verbal autistic child. The journey has been anything but linear, filled with triumphs, setbacks, and moments of deep introspection. The First Steps: Building a Routine At the outset, my focus was on the fundamentals—helping my child build a structured routine around daily life activities. The initial goals were simple: encourage independent eating, transition out of 24-hour diaper use, and introduce basic dressing skills. Progress was painstakingly slow, but over months of relentless effort, small victories emerged. My child now remains diaper-free throughout the day and independently uses the bathroom. He can eat rice with a spoon, though breaking bread remains a challenge. He has learned to remove his clothes but is still struggling to wear them. Each milestone was a testament to patience, repetition, and consistency. A Deeper Realization: Beyond Physical Routines As I immersed ...

Friends can play a crucial role in helping parents of special needs children, especially when there is also a neurotypical child in the family. In my opinion, here are some practical ways a friend circle can help. I certainly need most of my village to step up and ask. Its ok if you don't know what to do, even i didn't - we will figure it out together! 1. The "Babysitter" Friend – Offering Respite 🌟 Offer to watch the special needs child for a few hours so that the parents can go out or rest. Even just a few hours of quiet can be rejuvenating. 🌟 If they are comfortable, learn about the child’s routines, triggers, and calming techniques so you can be a reliable backup. 🌟 Even coming over to play with the special needs child while the parents take a break at home can be helpful. 2. The "Big Brother/Sister" Friend – Taking the Neurotypical Child Out 🌟 Plan a day out with the neurotypical child—movies, sports, or even a simple park visit—to give them...

  📢 Watch the video first to gain better perspective Someone recently asked me, “Where is your son on the spectrum?” I replied, “Do you want a simple answer (which doesn’t really exist) or a more complicated one (which is a tad more accurate)?” He shrugged and said, “It must be simple, right? On one end, it’s mild, and on the other, it’s severe.” Well, no. #Autism isn’t a straight line from mild to severe—it must always be measured on a multi-dimensional scale. Now, what does that mean? Let me explain. A multi-dimensional scale measures something using multiple factors, not just one. Think of it like rating a restaurant—not just on taste, but also on service, ambiance, cleanliness, and price. Instead of a single score, you get a more complete picture by looking at different aspects together. Autism works the same way—every child has a unique combination of strengths and challenges that can't be captured with a single label. Check out the video below, and if any of t...

As parents of autistic children, we endure the deepest emotional and mental struggles—ones that eventually take a physical toll. The stages of grief—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance—are not just phases; they cycle through us repeatedly, sometimes one at a time, sometimes all at once, using us as a punching bag. And yet, the world moves on. Friends drift away, saying, “Let’s give them space to figure things out,” or assuming, “They’re just too busy.” At work, exhaustion is mistaken for a lack of commitment. At home, life with your partner becomes a series of routines—predictable, necessary, but often mechanical—built around stability and survival. In all this, you are alone. Someone once told me that as you climb the corporate ladder, things get lonelier at the top. Well, try being a parent to a special needs child. You will understand the meaning of alone long before it becomes corporate jargon. Your world shifts. Special schools, psychologists, psychiatris...

Neuroinclusion is essential because it recognizes that every mind, regardless of its wiring, has value. It’s not just about fairness or kindness—it’s about progress, innovation, and the fundamental right of every human to participate fully in society. When we design workplaces, schools, and communities that exclude neurodivergent individuals, we are not just limiting them—we are limiting all of us. Why isn’t Neuroinclusion the default? Because society is built for efficiency, not diversity. Our systems—education, employment, social structures—were designed around a narrow definition of "normal." This isn’t necessarily malicious, but it is deeply ingrained. We prioritize conformity over individuality because it's easier. And what’s “easier” often becomes the status quo. But easier doesn’t mean better. In fact, it often means losing out on the full spectrum of human potential. How can we progress without including every kind of mind? We can’t—not in any meaningful way. ...

We usually spend Sundays with my parents, enjoying lunch and some family time together. Yesterday was no different. We packed our Sunday basket early and set off on a warm winter morning. The day was filled with laughter, playful moments, and jokes. By the time dinner ended, everyone was exhausted. The drive home was quiet, and no one spoke for a while. Then Anvit, my 7-year-old neurotypical son, broke the silence from the front seat beside me. Anvit: “What does ‘psycho’ mean?” Me: “It refers to the working of the mind, like in the words ‘psychologist’ or ‘psychotherapist.’” Anvit: “Oh, okay. Then who is a neurologist?” Me: “A neurologist is someone who studies how nerves work.” I paused briefly, considering how best to explain this to a 7-year-old, and continued: “Think of ‘neuro’ like the wires running in a car. For everything to work properly, there are wires connecting parts of the car to the central control unit. Now imagine ‘psycho’ as the control unit itself, deciding what...

Every parent dreams of raising a child who will grow into an independent adult. For most, this journey is filled with milestones—first words, first steps, first day of school. For me, as a parent of an autistic child who is non-verbal, independence looks a little different. It isn’t about memorizing alphabets or reciting nursery rhymes. It’s about teaching him how to ask for water when he’s thirsty , how to tell me when he’s in pain , how to chew his food properly so he doesn’t struggle with textures , and how to navigate the world in a way that is meaningful to him . This is not about “fixing” him. This is about understanding him . Moving Beyond Traditional Interventions There is no single therapy, program, or intervention that works like a magic spell. What works for one autistic child might not work for another. My child doesn’t fit into neat little checkboxes of what “should” work. That’s why I am looking for an integrated approach—one that acknowledges his unique needs, streng...