How Do You Find the Courage to Try Again After Loss? What a Year of Japa Taught Me

The journey of healing and courage is rarely linear. After the loss of my firstborn son, the courage to have another child became an emotional battle. I needed to find a way to battle fear of death amidst grief. Coming from a traditional Brahmin community, I was advised to perform specific rituals or pujas. While I tried a few, I realized I am not designed for community engagement for prayers. I prefer solitude, discipline and my own experiments to learn my own lessons.

I chose Japa, a practice of mantra repetition, as my anchor. Specifically, I committed to the Shiva Panchakshari Mantra: OM NA MA SHI VA YA, five syllables dedicated to Lord Shiva. I was no particular devotee, but it was short, and years of worshipping Shiva as a dancer made it a natural alignment.

For nearly a year, I practiced Japa, chanting this mantra 1,000 times daily, amounting to three lakh repetitions. It became a 20-minute daily ritual through my pregnancy and beyond. Japa didn’t bring grand revelations or mystical experiences. There were no divine visions or sparkling lights. What it did bring was something far more practical: the ability to focus amidst overwhelming fear, and a sense of discipline that helped me feel anchored.

Whenever anxiety arose during my pregnancy, especially after the loss of my firstborn, I turned to this practice. Repeating the mantra over and over became my anchor through fear and anxiety.

One of the most profound moments where Japa helped me was during the birth of my second child. My blood pressure dropped dangerously low, below 50, and I am a beta thalassemic. I felt my body giving up during labor. But I clung to the rhythm of my Japa, OM NA MA SHI VA YA. It steadied me, gave me something to focus on, and helped me navigate the delivery naturally and without intervention. This is not medical advice, simply a lived experience of what worked for me.

Japa isn’t just for life-altering moments; it’s a tool for navigating daily challenges. Before a crisis meeting, a quick 108 repetitions helped me center myself before walking into tense discussions. Navigating difficult conversations, the mantra created an internal sense of calm, helping me approach awkward discussions with clarity and patience.

The beauty of Japa is its simplicity. It doesn’t require rituals or special conditions. It can be practiced anywhere, on a commute, during a journey, or in a quiet corner of your home.

One of the greatest lessons Japa taught me is to trust the unfolding of life’s wisdom. During this practice, something you desperately want may start to fall apart. At first it feels counterintuitive. Did I not pray or chant for what I wanted? It felt absurd that the very thing I wanted was now taken away. But as time passes, you begin to see how that loss creates space for something more aligned with your true path.

Japa helps you anchor yourself, grounding you in the moment especially during fear or uncertainty. It teaches you to trust the process, to surrender to life’s unfolding even when it doesn’t go according to plan. And it builds resilience, strengthening your ability to manage both everyday challenges and life-altering crises.

Through this journey, I also explored meditation techniques and followed Guru Nithyananda, who later became embroiled in scandal. This was a great lesson. While the revelation was disappointing, I wasn’t heartbroken. By then, I had cultivated enough detachment to differentiate between teachings and teachers.

This experience solidified an important truth for me: Don’t blindly trust any path or guide. The only true path is the one you discover through your own practice and experimentation.

Japa didn’t just help me navigate grief and fear, it gave me the courage to move forward. Today I am blessed with a beautiful 17-year-old daughter and an amazingly spirited 14-year-old son. It feels as though the divine heard my pain and granted my wish for healthy, happy children.

You don’t need the guide to be trustworthy.
You just need the practice to be yours.