PTSD, they called it. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. A name that sounded too clean for the mess inside my head.
For me, Sydney, Mohali and Melbourne are not just places, they are chapters of who I am, each shaping me…
It doesn’t ask for permission to become a part of you. Slowly, softly, entirely... Mumbai makes you its own.
I hadn’t earned it through luck. I had earned it through hard work. And I finally understood. My dreams had…
She realized stereotypes are just shadows, long, heavy, and convincing, until you step into the light and watch them fade.
They made me rethink what I should accept, what I should seek, and what I should never settle for. They…
Her smile stared back at him, messy pencil lines capturing a warmth no algorithm could strip away. His throat tightened.
She asked me why I don’t say the things I feel anymore. Why I look like I’m carrying something heavy,…
The hallway was unlike any place Maya had seen in the school. The floor was a polished stretch of marble,…
Motherhood runs deeper than I ever imagined. And in its depth, I found a chaotic peace that will always be…
The emotional journey of motherhood is nothing short of the ‘motherboard’ of a computer. It is a complex landscape with…
The attachment runs so deep that now all I want is “just two more minutes” in this room. Just a…