“Life never waited for me to be ready—it simply kept unfolding. I learned to walk with fear, to study with tears, and to rise with faith. What will happen is meant to be, and in its own way, it will always be right.”
Dedication
There are people whose lives read like quiet poems—written in struggles, strengthened in silence, and brightened by resilience. Dr. Nirupama Parihar’s journey is one such poem. It does not begin with privilege, nor is it built on unbroken success. It begins in the lanes of Raipur, Chhattisgarh, in the arms of an ordinary family with extraordinary dreams, and in the heart of a little girl who lost her mother far too early yet learned to find comfort in the clouds.
The absence of her mother was her first teacher, shaping her into a child who spoke to the skies, who carried fear in her chest yet determination in her steps. Her early years were filled with both warmth and worry, the tenderness of family and the trials of being raised in a single-parent household. It is here that the seeds of her strength were sown. For while she battled insecurities on stage, exam anxieties that shook her, and the weight of expectations, she never stopped studying, never stopped dreaming.
Her notebooks became treasures in her classrooms; classmates relied on them, teachers admired them. But behind that diligence hid a young girl trembling at the sound of the word “exam,” one whose stomach would twist, whose voice would falter. Still, she pressed on. Even as fear walked beside her, hope whispered louder.
Life, however, tested her resolve beyond academics. She stepped into early marriage, balancing the duties of a wife and the demands of family with her insatiable thirst for knowledge. At a stage when many might have surrendered their dreams, she stood firm on one promise: she would continue to learn. And so, she completed her graduation in Political Science, Hindi Literature, and Sociology, proving to herself and to the world that determination can stretch beyond circumstance.
But her quest did not end with degrees. Her heart longed for something deeper, something that could explain not only the mechanics of life but also its mysteries. Choosing Psychology, and later specializing in Clinical Psychology, she entered a field where science meets compassion. Through her internships, where she sat across from patients speaking to stars or whispering to shadows, she learned perhaps the most important lesson of her career: a counselor must never laugh, never ridicule, but only listen. Listening, she discovered, is healing.
Yet, psychology alone could not capture the vastness of her curiosity. She felt drawn toward numerology, astrology, and the ancient sciences that have guided generations. Rather than dismissing them as superstition, she embraced them as complementary tools—bridges between mind and spirit. For her, this was not a contradiction; it was completeness. Clinical precision and cosmic insight walked hand in hand in her practice, giving her a language through which she could reach more people.
“Even the smallest heart learns to carry mountains when life places them there too soon.”
Phase 1: Whispers of Childhood, Echoes of Courage
Childhood is often remembered as a time of innocence, laughter, and careless play. For many, it is a season of warmth and shelter. For little Nirupama, however, childhood carried both love and loss, both protection and piercing silence. Born in Raipur, Chhattisgarh, her life began like many others in a middle-class family—simple surroundings, modest means, and an upbringing rooted in discipline and values. Yet, unlike many others, her earliest memory was not of abundance but of absence.
At the tender age of two and a half, she lost her mother. That moment altered the rhythm of her life forever. Where other children clung to their mother’s hand, Nirupama searched for her mother’s face in the clouds. Where other children ran into a mother’s arms after a fall, she learned to comfort herself with whispers to the sky. In that void, she found her first teacher: resilience.
Her upbringing was shaped by her father and extended family. She grew up under the protective gaze of elders but also under the constant awareness that she was different—a child without a mother. This difference was not only external but internal. It carved out a cautiousness in her spirit, a fear that life was fragile, that anything could be taken away. Every step forward felt shadowed by the thought: “If I do this, something bad might happen.”
Even in school, this inner fear found its voice. While Nirupama studied diligently, creating notes so detailed that classmates relied on them, the word “exam” became her nightmare. Her stomach knotted, her body betrayed her with aches, and her confidence shrank just when it was most needed. This paradox defined her early years—brilliant in preparation, hesitant in performance. Teachers recognized her potential, peers admired her intellect, yet Nirupama wrestled privately with crippling self-doubt.
But her story was never meant to remain in shadows. For every fear she carried, there was also a flame of determination. She might have trembled before exams, but she never stopped studying. She might have been afraid to speak on stage, but she never stopped showing up. She never allowed her anxieties to silence her desire to learn. That persistence was her earliest act of courage—the courage to continue even when her voice shook.
Her middle-class upbringing, too, became both a limitation and a blessing. There were no luxuries, no shortcuts, no endless resources. But there was discipline. There was an understanding that life would not hand her success, that she would have to carve it with her own hands. It was this very environment that laid the foundation for her lifelong hunger for education.
“Courage is not the absence of fear; it is the quiet decision to move forward even when your hands tremble.”
Phase 2: The Battle Between Fear and Faith
Adolescence is a time when most young people dream of spreading their wings, of discovering their talents, and of tasting the freedom of youth. For Nirupama, those years were filled not only with dreams but also with a constant shadow—the shadow of fear. Yet it was in this very battle between fear and faith that she began to discover her true strength.
By the time she entered her teenage years, Nirupama had already earned a reputation as a diligent student. Her classmates admired her for her meticulously maintained notes, which became the go-to guide for many in her class. Teachers appreciated her sincerity, her attention to detail, and her quiet commitment. But what few could see was the silent storm within her—the anxiety that surged whenever exams approached, the stage fright that froze her voice when asked to speak before others.
These fears were not small inconveniences; they were barriers that threatened to hold her back from reaching her true potential. Whenever an exam drew near, her body seemed to betray her. Headaches, stomachaches, and even moments of panic became part of her preparation ritual. To others, she looked prepared and capable; inside, she felt like she was carrying a mountain on her shoulders. It was a paradox—an intelligent student admired by her peers but struggling to believe in her own ability to succeed.
Still, Nirupama did not give up. She pressed forward, reminding herself that her value was not defined by her fear. Slowly, she learned that perseverance was its own form of victory. She told herself: “Even if I tremble, I will keep walking. Even if I doubt, I will still try.” This mindset became the anchor of her adolescent years.
It was during this time that Mathematics entered her story in a profound way. While many students dreaded the subject, Nirupama saw in it a challenge, a puzzle to be solved. She decided to pursue Mathematics in Classes 11 and 12—a choice that reflected her determination to engage with subjects that stretched her thinking.Numbers became her companions, a world of logic that helped her quiet the chaos within. They were predictable, structured, and honest. In numbers, she found a kind of stability that life itself often denied her.
“Sometimes the journey does not end with a closed door—it simply teaches us to find another way inside.”
Phase 3: Dreams Interrupted, Determination Unbroke
Life often tests us at the very moment when we begin to believe in our own possibilities. For Nirupama, the transition from adolescence into early adulthood was meant to be a season of new beginnings. Having cleared the PAT entrance examination against all odds and securing her place in higher education, she felt a quiet spark of pride. For a girl who had once doubted every step, the idea of entering a professional course was a triumph in itself. Yet destiny, as it often does, had other plans.
She began her B.Tech journey with cautious excitement. Engineering was not just an academic pursuit—it was a chance to prove to herself and to her family that she could overcome the fears that once held her back. The classrooms, the labs, the books filled with formulas and logic—these were spaces where she wanted to belong. And yet, just as she was beginning to find her footing, life presented her with unexpected challenges.
Her father, a man deeply committed to his responsibilities, met with an accident. The incident shook the family, pulling Nirupama out of the predictable rhythm of student life and into the unpredictable demands of home. In middle-class households, education often comes second to family responsibilities, and for Nirupama, this was no different. With the weight of her father’s condition pressing heavily on her, she was forced to make a difficult choice.
After two years of studying engineering, she stepped away. To many, it might have seemed like a defeat, a failure to complete what she had begun. But to Nirupama, it was not about quitting—it was about understanding that sometimes life asks us to pause, to shift our path, and to honor the people who made our journey possible in the first place.
At the same time, society and family expectations were knocking at her door. Marriage, which often comes later in life for many, arrived early for her. In her youth, she stepped into the role of a wife, taking on responsibilities that most of her peers had not yet imagined. For someone who had always carried fear in her heart, this was another mountain to climb. But Nirupama entered this new phase with clarity. She made no demands—except one. She told her husband: “All I want is to continue my education.”
That single request reflected the core of her being. Education was not a hobby; it was her identity, her anchor, her way of breathing in a world that often tried to suffocate her dreams. Even as she adjusted to married life, managed a household, and later embraced motherhood, she never let go of that inner promise to herself.
Note of Thanks
As this biography reaches its closing pages, my heart overflows with gratitude. This journey has not been mine alone—it has been shaped, supported, and carried forward by countless hands and hearts.
First, I bow with reverence to the divine grace of my Maa Vaishnodevi, who has been my constant source of strength and light. Without Her guidance, I would not have found the courage to walk through darkness or the wisdom to transform pain into purpose.
I extend my deepest love and gratitude to my late mother, Lalita, whose absence became the fire that shaped my resilience, and to my father, Dr. Udaybhan Singh Chauhan, who, in his own way, instilled in me the discipline to rise above. To my husband, Dr. Dogendraa Singh Parihar, a Medical Practitioner, Psychologist, and Mental Health Specialist, and to my children, Aarush and Aadhya, who stood beside me through every struggle and triumph—you are the reason I kept going.
To my clients, students, and well-wishers: thank you for trusting me with your stories, your fears, and your hopes. Each of you has taught me something invaluable.
Above all, I thank life itself—for every challenge, every lesson, and every chance to turn struggle into service.
Thank You
Dr. Nirupama Parihar