Love should restore us, not drain us. Yet so many of us stumble into relationships that leave us empty, wondering if we’re truly ready for love. This article is a soul-stirring journey into boundaries, sacred love, and healing—so you can stop surviving relationships and start living them with dignity, depth, and joy.
Navigating boundaries, healing wounds, and choosing love over ego
Have you ever sat across from someone you deeply love, only to feel like you’re suffocating instead of growing? It’s a strange thing—how love, the very thing meant to make us feel alive, can sometimes drain us dry. And that’s where the quiet question rises: Are We Actually Ready for Relationships?
This article isn’t a lecture. It’s a conversation, almost like a late-night walk where we talk about things we usually avoid—the boundaries we don’t set, the teen wounds we never healed, the times we mistook ego for sacred love. Together, we’ll explore how to create relationships that nourish instead of deplete.
Along the way, I’ll share stories, simple rituals, and even a worksheet you can try today. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll find the courage to draw the lines your heart has been begging for.
Why do boundaries matter in relationships?
Picture this: you’re pouring water into a glass. At first, it’s refreshing. But if you never stop pouring, the glass overflows, and everything becomes a mess. That’s what happens when we live without relationship boundaries.
Boundaries are not walls to keep people out. They are fences with gates—allowing what nourishes us in and keeping what drains us away. Without them, we lose our emotional health, our personal space, and even our sense of self.
A study by the American Psychological Association in 2022 found that 67% of people in strained relationships reported stress directly linked to the inability to say no. That’s not just numbers—that’s your neighbour, your colleague, maybe even you.
I remember once saying “yes” to helping a friend move house, despite being exhausted after a 60-hour work week. I thought I was being kind. Instead, I ended up resenting them and snapping during the move. It wasn’t kindness—it was self-abandonment disguised as generosity.
When we talk about boundaries, we’re not talking about selfishness. We’re talking about self-respect. Think of it like oxygen masks on an aeroplane—you put yours on first so you can actually help the person beside you.
People who respect their own boundaries teach others to respect them too. Those who don’t… often end up in relationships where their needs vanish into thin air.
Ask yourself: Where am I overpouring? Where do I need to pause and protect my own glass?
What Happens When We Ignore Relationship Boundaries?
Ignoring boundaries feels harmless at first. You say yes to a favour. You tolerate a small disrespect. You avoid an uncomfortable conversation. But slowly, like drops of water carving stone, the erosion begins.
I once had a friend who never said no. She was the “always available” type. If you needed a ride at 2 AM, she was there. If you wanted to vent for hours, she’d listen, even when she was breaking inside. People adored her—until they didn’t. One day, she realised she was surrounded by takers but had no one to lean on herself.
That’s the silent cost of weak boundaries. You end up resentful, burnt out, and ironically, lonelier than if you had said no in the first place.
Psychologists warn that a lack of boundaries often leads to toxic relationship energy—where one partner becomes an energy vampire, feeding off the other. In fact, research by Dr. Henry Cloud shows that couples who don’t discuss boundaries are 45% more likely to break up within five years.
Think about that. Half of relationships could be saved if we simply had the courage to say, “This is what I can give, and this is what I cannot.”
But here’s the kicker: ignoring boundaries doesn’t just harm relationships. It harms your health. Stress levels rise. Anxiety creeps in. Even your immune system takes a hit. Saying “yes” all the time isn’t compassion—it’s slow self-destruction.
Here is a gentle challenge: What’s one small boundary you’ve been avoiding? And what would it look like to honour it this week?
How can you start setting boundaries without feeling guilty?
Let’s be honest—setting boundaries feels awkward. Maybe even selfish. You fear people will think you’re rude, distant, or unloving. But guilt-free boundaries are possible. Here’s how:
- Self-Awareness Journal – Start by writing down when you feel drained after being with someone. That’s your body whispering: “a boundary is missing.”
- The Gentle No – Practise saying, “I’d love to, but I can’t right now.” It’s kind yet firm.
- The 24-Hour Pause – Instead of saying yes immediately, give yourself a day. That way, you decide from clarity, not pressure.
- Boundary-Setting Worksheet – Create two columns: What I’m okay with vs What I’m not okay with. Example:
- Okay: texting me before 9 PM.
- Not Okay: showing up unannounced at midnight.
I used to think setting boundaries meant pushing people away. But the opposite happened. When I finally told a friend, “I can’t pick up calls during work hours,” they respected it. And suddenly, our conversations became intentional instead of draining.
If you’re struggling with this, remember—boundaries are not rejection. They’re an invitation to love more deeply, more sustainably.
And if you’re wondering whether your space is inviting the right people, you might enjoy this perspective: Is your space attracting the right people?.
Are You Experiencing Sacred Love or Ego-Based Love?
Here’s a question that might sting: Is your relationship sacred… or is it just ego wearing a mask?
Sacred love feels expansive. You feel safe, seen, and deeply connected. Ego-based love, on the other hand, feels like a tug-of-war—constant push and pull, power struggles, and hidden insecurities.
A quick exercise: take out a journal and answer these prompts—
- When I feel seen… (write down moments you felt truly valued)
- When I feel abandoned… (write down moments you felt dismissed or neglected)
The contrast will tell you if your connection is rooted in soul or in ego.
Sacred love doesn’t mean perfect love. It means love that allows growth. Ego love is stuck in survival mode—jealousy, control, and possession.
And sometimes, we confuse lust with connection. Studies show that dopamine spikes from physical attraction often fade within 6-12 months, while oxytocin (the bonding hormone) only sustains deeper bonds if trust and respect are present.
If you’re asking yourself right now, “Am I in love, or just filling a void?” you’ll find this perspective helpful: Are you in love or just filling a void?.
And remember: exploring these questions with guidance can shift everything. Consider booking a personal consultation—it might be the turning point your love life has been waiting for.
How do teenage wounds resurface in adult love?
Have you ever snapped at your partner, only to realise later that your reaction was way bigger than the situation? That’s not just adult you—it’s your inner teen speaking.
Many of us carry unhealed teenage wounds into our relationships. Maybe you were rejected at 16 and now you panic every time your partner doesn’t text back immediately. Or perhaps you felt unseen in your family, and now you chase validation through constant approval-seeking.
I once worked with a couple where the husband grew distant every time his wife raised her voice. Turns out, his father used to yell during his teenage years, and even a normal disagreement felt like stepping back into that old room of fear.
Healing begins with awareness. Here’s a ritual: write a letter to your teenage self. Apologise for the times you silenced them. Reassure them that today, you’re safe. Then, keep that letter close—read it whenever your inner teen tries to hijack your adult love.
The good news? When you honour your inner teen, your adult relationships become freer, lighter, more authentic.
And like the warmth of Sunny Days, healing teenage wounds brings light after long winters.
Why does love Sometimes Drain Us Instead of Uplifting us?
Let’s pause here for a second. Have you ever woken up beside someone and felt more tired than when you went to bed? Love is supposed to be a safe place, but sometimes it feels like carrying a backpack filled with rocks. Every conversation becomes heavy, every silence becomes awkward, and instead of feeling alive, you feel exhausted.
This is what happens when relationships turn into energy drains. Instead of an exchange, it becomes an imbalance—one person gives, the other takes, and the cycle repeats. You don’t notice it immediately. At first, it looks like compromise. You cancel a plan to make them happy. You change your hobbies to align with theirs. You start saying, “I’m fine” when you’re not, just to keep the peace. Slowly, your spirit dims. And you wonder: where did I go?
A recent survey by Relate UK in 2023 found that 72% of people in failing relationships reported “emotional exhaustion” as their main complaint. Not cheating, not money—exhaustion. That means we’re not just breaking hearts anymore; we’re draining souls.
I once knew a woman who loved gardening. It was her sanctuary—her hands in the soil, her face in the sun. But after years with a partner who dismissed it as “wasting time,” she stopped planting. She stopped blooming, quite literally. And when she looked in the mirror one day, she said she didn’t recognise the woman staring back.
Here’s the thing: a relationship that drains you isn’t love. It’s a slow theft of your vitality. Real love doesn’t suffocate. It breathes life into you. It’s like sunshine breaking through clouds, not a weight pressing on your chest.
So, I’ll ask you directly: Is your love feeding you, or is it feeding on you?
What Are the Subtle Signs of Energetic Imbalance in Love?
Energetic imbalance doesn’t arrive with neon signs. It sneaks in quietly, hiding behind little habits and subtle shifts until one day you wake up feeling empty. But if you pay attention, the signs are there:
- You feel anxious when their name pops up on your phone, instead of excited.
- You’re constantly apologising—even when you’ve done nothing wrong.
- Your hobbies, friends, and passions slowly vanish because there’s no space for them anymore.
- Conversations feel like performances, not genuine exchanges.
- Instead of resting after spending time together, you feel like you need to recharge from being with them.
One man told me that whenever he met his partner, he would come home and sit in silence for hours, unable to speak, drained of words. “It’s like she pulls the energy out of me just by being in the room,” he said. That’s suffocating.
Science has something to say here too. Dr. Judith Orloff, a psychiatrist and author, coined the term “emotional vampires” to describe people who unconsciously feed on the energy of others. And according to her research, spending extended time with such people can lead to chronic fatigue, headaches, and even weakened immunity.
If this sounds familiar, it may be time to do an honest relationship energy audit. Ask yourself: when I walk away from this person, do I feel lighter or heavier? The answer often reveals the truth your mind has been too afraid to accept.
And sometimes, recognising these signs can feel like waking up in a story you didn’t realise you were living. Much like finding your old diary, or stumbling across my very 1st post and realising how far you’ve come, awareness shifts everything. It doesn’t change the past, but it opens the possibility of a better future.
How can you protect your Emotional Energy in a Relationship?
Now that we’ve seen how relationships can drain us, the question becomes—how do we protect ourselves without shutting love out? The answer lies in conscious energy hygiene. Just as you shower daily to wash away physical dirt, you need small rituals to cleanse and guard your emotional energy.
Here are a few practices that truly work:
- Aura Cleansing Visualization – Sit quietly, close your eyes, and imagine a white light surrounding your body like a shield. This isn’t fantasy—it’s neuroscience. Visualisation techniques have been shown to reduce stress and regulate the nervous system.
- Cord-Cutting Ritual – If you feel emotionally entangled with someone, imagine a cord connecting you. Then, with intention, visualise cutting it. Some people even write their partner’s name on paper and tear it as a physical symbol. It doesn’t mean you stop loving them; it means you stop leaking energy.
- Daily Energy Check-In – Ask yourself: “Whose emotions am I carrying right now?” Often, we confuse our partner’s stress with our own. Simply identifying this difference can lift a surprising weight.
- Nature Reset – Studies have shown that 20 minutes in nature reduces cortisol (the stress hormone) dramatically. Next time you feel drained after a fight, go outside. Let the earth hold you when love feels too heavy.
I once spoke with a teacher who spent her days surrounded by children, her evenings listening to her partner’s endless complaints, and her nights scrolling through news feeds. She had no energy left for herself. But when she started a simple practice of walking barefoot on the grass for ten minutes every day, she said: “It feels like the earth is returning my soul to me.”
Protecting your energy isn’t selfish. It’s sacred. Because only when your cup is full can you pour love into someone else’s life without losing yourself in the process.
Can a relationship energy map help you find balance?
Here’s a tool I often recommend: create a Relationship Energy Map. It’s exactly what it sounds like—a simple chart to help you track how your energy shifts around people in your life. Because awareness is the first step toward transformation.
Take a blank sheet and draw three columns:
| Person/Relationship | Energy After Interaction | Notes |
|---|---|---|
| Partner | Drained / Neutral / Uplifted | “Felt ignored when sharing my day.” |
| Best Friend | Uplifted | “Laughed until my stomach hurt.” |
| Colleague | Drained | “Complained non-stop for 30 mins.” |
By tracking this over a week, patterns emerge. You’ll see who nourishes you and who drains you. It may feel uncomfortable at first—especially if the person draining you is the one you love—but clarity is always kinder than confusion.
One reader told me she used this map and discovered that even though she loved her partner, she left every interaction feeling smaller. That awareness gave her the courage to start conversations about balance. And slowly, things shifted. Awareness gave birth to change.
Why is healing a continuous journey, not a destination?
Here’s something I’ve learnt the hard way: healing isn’t a one-time event. It’s not like fixing a broken chair. It’s more like tending to a garden—daily, gentle, ongoing. Boundaries need watering. Love needs pruning. Old wounds sometimes bloom again, reminding us of seasons we thought we’d left behind.
And that’s okay. Because healing isn’t about never hurting again. It’s about learning to meet the hurt differently. With tenderness instead of panic. With awareness instead of avoidance.
A friend once told me: “I thought healing meant arriving at a place where I’d never cry again. But now I realise, it means having the strength to cry and still keep going.” That’s the essence of sacred healing in relationships. It’s not about never being triggered, but about holding those triggers with compassion.
If you’re walking this path, remember—you don’t have to do it alone. Books like Burn the Old Map can guide you, but so can therapy, journaling, and community. Healing is less about grand gestures and more about small, consistent choices made every single day.
So if you find yourself asking again, Are We Actually Ready for Relationships?, maybe the answer isn’t a clear yes or no. Maybe the answer is: we’re getting ready, one boundary, one ritual, one act of self-kindness at a time.
Why Do We Confuse Love With Infatuation?
Let me tell you a story. A young man once told me about the first time he fell “in love.” He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t think straight. His hands shook when she texted him. His heart raced at the thought of her voice. He was convinced it was destiny, soul connection, sacred love. But two months later, when she left, he felt empty—like a house abandoned overnight. His heart wasn’t broken by love. It was broken by infatuation.
Infatuation feels like love’s twin, but it isn’t. It’s a spark mistaken for fire, a storm mistaken for the sea. It’s dopamine and adrenaline dancing in your bloodstream, convincing you that this is forever. Love, on the other hand, is slower. Quieter. It doesn’t just race your heart; it steadies it. It doesn’t vanish at the first argument. It grows roots.
A 2019 study in the Journal of Social and Personal Relationships found that infatuation typically lasts between three months to two years. Real love, however, deepens with time, shifting from chemistry to companionship, from attraction to anchor.
We live in a world where fast passion is glorified. Songs, films, even social media convince us that love must feel like lightning striking. But the truth? Lightning burns as quickly as it dazzles. Real love is not lightning. It’s sunlight—steady, dependable, life-giving.
If you’re wondering whether what you feel is sacred connection or fleeting obsession, you might find this reflection meaningful: Love or Infatuation?. Sometimes, one honest look at ourselves is enough to untangle the confusion we’ve carried for years.
So ask yourself tonight, with all the courage your heart can gather: Is this person my home, or just my high?
How Do We Heal When We Realise we have Settled for less?
This is the part nobody likes to talk about—the grief that follows the realisation that what we thought was love was actually a shadow of it. Healing from infatuation, or from relationships where our boundaries were trampled, feels like tearing roots from the soil. It hurts. It bleeds. It leaves a hollow where once there was growth.
I once met a woman who confessed she had been in a relationship for six years, not out of love but out of fear—fear of loneliness, fear of starting over, fear of facing herself in the mirror without someone beside her. When she finally walked away, she cried not only for the man she lost but also for the years she lost to a love that wasn’t truly love.
Here’s the truth that aches but also sets you free: healing begins when you stop romanticising the version of love that hurt you. You cannot heal while clinging to the fantasy of what could have been. You heal when you honour what was, grieve it, and then step into the possibility of something truer.
And grief doesn’t follow rules. Some days you’ll wake up and feel light. Other days, you’ll be ambushed by a memory—the way they laughed, the way they held your hand—and it’ll crush you all over again. That’s normal. Healing is not a staircase upward; it’s a messy circle that eventually spirals higher if you keep walking.
So when the tears come—and they will—don’t silence them. Let them flow. Tears are not weakness; they are the body’s way of unclogging the soul. They are proof that you loved, that you dared, that you lived. And one day, when your eyes dry and your chest loosens, you’ll realise: the grief was not the end. It was the doorway.
What does it mean to create sacred love?
If ego love is about possession, sacred love is about liberation. Ego love asks, “How can you complete me?” Sacred love asks, “How can we grow together, even as whole beings on our own?” The difference is subtle but seismic.
I remember a couple I once observed at a train station. They weren’t young, not anymore. Their hair was silver, their hands worn. Yet, as they sat in silence, their bodies leaned toward each other without trying. No fireworks, no grand gestures—just a steady presence that spoke louder than words. That, I thought, is what sacred love looks like. It doesn’t need to be announced. It simply exists.
Sacred love isn’t perfect. There will be disagreements, bad days, slammed doors. But underneath it all, there’s safety. There’s the unspoken truth: I am not leaving when it gets hard. That safety allows vulnerability, and vulnerability allows depth. And depth—more than passion, more than lust—is what sustains love through decades.
But here’s the hard question: are we brave enough to wait for sacred love, or do we settle for ego love because it’s easier, faster, louder? Settling may give temporary comfort, but sacred love—when it arrives—reminds you why you waited. It’s like listening to static for years, then suddenly hearing a clear, beautiful melody. You know it instantly. And it knows you.
How do we reconnect with ourselves after a draining relationship?
After leaving a draining relationship, you don’t just lose a partner—you often lose yourself. You look around and wonder, “What do I even like anymore?” The books you once read gather dust. The songs you loved feel foreign. The mirror shows a stranger staring back.
But this emptiness isn’t a curse—it’s an invitation. An invitation to return to yourself. To rediscover the colours you muted for someone else’s comfort. To laugh at jokes no one else understood. To cook your favourite meal without worrying if someone else liked the smell of garlic on their fingers.
I once encouraged a friend, newly heartbroken, to make a list of “things that feel like me.” It started small: chai at dawn, messy sketches, singing badly to old songs. As weeks passed, the list grew. And one day she told me, “I think I’m falling in love again—with myself.” That’s the secret: sometimes the great love story we’ve been searching for begins in the mirror.
Self-reconnection isn’t selfish—it’s the soil from which future love can bloom. Because only when you know yourself can you invite someone else to truly know you.
Can we ever be fully ready for relationships?
And now, back to the question that has lingered since the beginning: Are We Actually Ready for Relationships? The truth? No one is ever fully ready. We don’t enter relationships as finished products. We enter as works-in-progress—carrying wounds, fears, hopes, and dreams. The readiness isn’t in being perfect; it’s in being willing. Willing to learn. Willing to listen. Willing to grow.
Perfection is a myth. Readiness is a choice. The choice to show up authentically, to apologise when we falter, to forgive when we can, to walk away when love no longer nourishes us. That’s readiness. That’s courage. That’s the kind of love that transforms not just two people, but the very world around them.
So perhaps the better question isn’t, “Are we ready?” but, “Am I willing?” And if your heart whispers yes, then step forward. Not because you have all the answers, but because you’re brave enough to ask the questions.
When should we walk away from a relationship?
There is a quiet moment in every draining relationship where the soul whispers: “I cannot do this anymore.” It doesn’t shout. It doesn’t demand. It simply aches. And if we silence it long enough, it turns into exhaustion that seeps into our bones. Walking away is not weakness—it is wisdom. It is the recognition that staying is costing us more than leaving ever could.
But how do we know? How do we separate a rough patch from a dead end? A study by Psychological Science in 2021 revealed that most people stay in unfulfilling relationships not because of love, but because of fear—fear of loneliness, financial insecurity, or simply the unknown. Yet those who left reported higher long-term satisfaction, even if the first months were unbearably painful.
I once counselled a man who told me he stayed in his marriage for eight years after the love had died because he didn’t want to disappoint his parents. “Leaving felt like failure,” he said. But when he finally walked away, he discovered that failure wasn’t leaving. Failure was betraying himself every day he stayed.
If you are standing at that crossroads today, wondering whether to hold on or let go, I urge you to read Is It Time to Walk Away? Signs You Can’t Ignore. Sometimes, seeing your pain reflected in words gives you the courage to take the step you’ve been postponing for years.
Leaving is not the end of love. It’s the beginning of self-respect. And self-respect is the ground where healthier, truer love can bloom.
What practical rituals can help us heal from relationship Wounds?
Healing doesn’t happen in the mind alone. It happens in the body, in the spirit, in the rituals we create to remind ourselves that we are alive and worthy. Here are some gentle practices I have found transformative:
- Letter to Your Teen Self: Write to the teenager in you who first believed that love required sacrifice. Tell them they were always worthy of care. Fold it, keep it safe, and read it whenever you forget your worth.
- Evening Release Ritual: At night, write down every thought that drains you about your past relationship. Burn the paper safely, letting the smoke carry away the heaviness you’ve been holding.
- Energy Map: Draw a circle and divide it into slices for family, friends, career, hobbies, and self-care. Ask yourself: “Where does my energy flow easily? Where does it leak?” It’s astonishing how healing clarity can be when it’s on paper.
- Cord-Cutting Meditation: Visualise the person who drained you standing across from you. See a cord between you. With love—not anger—imagine cutting it, and whisper: “I release you. I release me.”
These are not magic spells. They are reminders. Reminders that you are allowed to grieve, allowed to rest, and allowed to begin again.
How can we protect our Emotional Energy in Love?
Relationships should feel like a charge to the soul, not a drain. Yet too often, we end up with energy vampires—partners who take and take until we have nothing left to give. Protecting your emotional energy is not about building walls; it’s about building filters. It’s about knowing when to say “yes,” when to say “not now,” and when to say “no.”
A 2022 survey by the American Psychological Association revealed that 70% of people in toxic relationships reported physical symptoms of stress: headaches, stomach issues, insomnia. Our bodies don’t lie. They know when love is not safe.
If you find yourself constantly exhausted after being with your partner, it’s worth asking: Am I being loved, or am I being consumed? One woman told me that after she left her draining relationship, she slept peacefully for the first time in five years. That was her body’s way of saying thank you.
Your emotional energy is your currency. Spend it wisely. And if someone demands more than you can afford to give, remember: it is not selfish to protect your peace. It is survival.
What does sacred love look like in everyday life?
Sacred love is not found only in grand gestures or candlelit dinners. It hides in the quietest places—in the cup of tea brewed without asking, in the hand squeezed gently during silence, in the patience offered when words fail. Sacred love does not demand that you shrink. It allows you to expand. It celebrates not just who you are together, but who you are alone.
I saw this once in an elderly couple at a park. She was feeding pigeons, he was reading the newspaper. They didn’t speak much. They didn’t need to. Their companionship filled the air like sunlight—warm, steady, unpretentious. That’s the kind of love that survives decades: not fiery, but fierce in its constancy.
Maybe that’s the secret: sacred love doesn’t feel like being set on fire. It feels like coming home on a rainy day, putting on dry clothes, and knowing you are safe. If you’ve ever wondered whether you’ve experienced it, pause and ask yourself: Do I feel more myself with this person, or less? The answer will tell you everything.
Reflection: Are we actually ready for relationships?
So here we are, full circle. After all the stories, tears, lessons, and rituals—the question remains: Are We Actually Ready for Relationships?
The honest answer is: readiness is not about being perfect. It’s not about having healed every wound, set every boundary, or mastered every ritual. Readiness is about willingness. The willingness to listen, to stumble, to apologise, to forgive, to grow. To hold someone else’s heart without crushing it, and to hold your own heart without abandoning it.
If you are reading this, perhaps you are already more ready than you think. Because asking the question shows that you care—that you want to love better, deeper, truer. And maybe that’s all readiness really is: not certainty, but courage.
Love is not simple. It is messy, raw, terrifying, and beautiful. It is both wound and balm, both question and answer. And yet, we keep searching for it, because deep down we know: love is the language our souls were written in.
So wherever you are in your journey—whether holding on, letting go, or learning to stand again—I hope you carry this truth with you: you are worthy of safe love, of love that does not drain you but restores you. Do not settle for less. Do not silence your heart. The world needs your love, and you deserve love that feels like home.
And if you need guidance, don’t walk alone. Book a consultation with me today—let’s walk this journey together, one honest step at a time.
📖 And don’t forget to buy and read the book Burn the Old Map by Tushar Mangl—it may just be the companion your soul needs tonight.
FAQs
How do I know if my boundaries are being crossed?
Notice how you feel—if you constantly feel drained, resentful, or silenced, your boundaries are likely being ignored.What’s the difference between sacred love and ego love?
Ego love demands possession. Sacred love invites growth. One drains; the other restores.Why do I keep attracting draining relationships?
Often, it’s unresolved wounds from childhood or teenage years. Healing the inner teen can shift this pattern.Can infatuation turn into real love?
Sometimes. If both people grow past the chemistry into companionship, it can evolve. But often, infatuation burns out.How do I protect my energy without pushing people away?
By communicating boundaries with love, not fear. Boundaries protect relationships—they don’t end them.
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Note: For more inspiring insights, subscribe to the YouTube Channel at Tushar Mangl or follow on Instagram at @TusharMangl.
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