13th February 2026
Dear precious angel,
Here is a mystery that haunts me: why do some people find it impossible to spare a fraction of time to mend what can easily be mended? And yet, they find it perfectly natural to make everything worse—burning through time, resources, reputation—as if difficulty were a prize to be won.
Let me tell you a story. A fable, perhaps.
There was once a divine carpenter. His reputation stood like a mountain. No one had ever questioned the quality or the finishing of the furniture that left his hands. He was, in every way, a master of his craft.
But one day, his supplier betrayed him. The raw wood he received was not wood at all—it was a lie disguised as timber. The carpenter, unaware, built a piece for a new client and delivered it with pride. The very next day, cracks began to bloom across its surface like sudden sorrow.
Now, what should a wise man do?
Investigate. Acknowledge. Sit with the customer. Explain. Find a solution. But this carpenter did none of those things. Instead, he turned his anger upon the customer. His pride—that long, unbroken record of perfection—blinded him completely. He could have cut off a few grown nails. Instead, he chose to cut down his entire hand. Arrogance became his voice. Ego became his lawyer. The matter, small enough to be resolved over tea, escalated to court. And soon, the entire market whispered his name not with reverence, but with pity. All because he could not bear to admit: Something went wrong. Let me fix it.
I wonder, my angel—what makes us choose the harder road? The one that twists, breaks, and burns? Why does the human mind so often reject the simple stitch and reach instead for the sword? Perhaps we are wired strangely. Perhaps the complicated path feels more deserving of our pride. Perhaps a little repair feels like a surrender, while a great destruction feels like a stand. But the truth is this: a broken nail does not need amputation. It only needs a moment of care. And yet, how many of us would rather lose a hand than bend?
Yours gem & lost butterfly,
Vivek Prasad
