The Untold Stories

If you have read my previous blog, you would know that college was never really a place I enjoyed. For a long time, it felt like somewhere I had to go every day out of compulsion. But things changed in my final year. I found really good friends, and without even realizing it, I made memories that I truly cherish now. Yesterday was my farewell. We all came dressed up, took countless selfies, and walked into the venue together. It felt strange in a way, because for the past three years, we were the ones who worked tirelessly for every department event. But yesterday, it was our day. We were the special ones. Our juniors welcomed us so warmly, and even though it felt unusual, it was actually very nice. The program started on a happy note. We laughed, cheered for every dance performance, sang loudly to the songs, took group photos, and received blessings from our professors. Everything felt light and joyful. But things changed towards the end. From being the ones who were enjoy...

There was a time when I never thought about my body. I wore what I liked, stood wherever I wanted in photos, and never analyzed how I looked from different angles. Confidence wasn’t something I practiced. It was just there. But when PCOS entered my life, the first visible change was my weight. It didn’t feel dramatic to me at first, but it was dramatic enough for others to notice. And once people notice, they comment. “You’ve gained weight.” “You look so different now.” “You look very fat in this photo.” They say it casually, like they’re pointing out the weather. I usually laugh it off. It feels easier to smile than to explain. But hearing the same thing repeatedly slowly changes the way you see yourself. PCOS is more than irregular periods. It affects hormones, metabolism, energy levels, and emotional balance. Your body starts functioning differently. Effort doesn’t always give the same results. And while you’re trying to adjust to that reality, the outside world keeps re...

Nothing hurts more than hurting the one you love in anger. I grew up around short tempers, harsh words, and sharp reactions, and I was always the one on the receiving end. For most of my life, that pain followed me like a shadow. I wanted to run away from it. From the words they used. From the anger. From the way love was mixed with fear. But I never realised something important. I am one of them. I am part of them. Slowly, without noticing, I became what I feared the most. The same tone. The same temper. The same way of treating the people I love. I hurt someone I care about without meaning to, without even realising it at first, and that was the moment I couldn’t look away from myself. The way I speak. The way I laugh. The way I react. It all comes from them. The monster I wanted to run from isn’t chasing me anymore. It was growing inside me. I am becoming the very thing I once feared.

People always say that a college trip is one of the most important journey of your life, at least in college. They say it either brings people closer or breaks bonds you thought would last forever. For me, it did the first. It brought us together. Before the trip, I had friends in my class. A few girls I talked to, did assignments with, and went shopping at college stalls. We were friendly, comfortable, but that was all. We were friends, yes but more like companions. Nothing deep. Nothing that felt like my people. But this trip changed everything. Somewhere between long bus rides, shared rooms, and tired laughter, we became a girls’ gang. And that’s something I had always wanted from the very first day of my college life. I dreamed of it for so long. Sadly, it happened only at the end, when we have just four months left together.  During the trip, I felt something I had never felt before in college. Belonging. The late-night talks that went on forever. The UNO games whe...

Today my friend came over, and we did what friends always do: Gossip, life updates, silly jokes, the kind of conversations that jump from one topic to another. At some point, I started telling her about my recent college trip, how it went, the moments that upset me, the ones that made me laugh, and all the small memories in between. Then she suddenly asked, “Do you think this friendship will last after college?” I paused. I didn’t have a ready answer. I just told her, “I don’t know… but if they need me, I’ll be there.” She nodded, and the conversation moved on. But after she left, that question stayed behind. It kept circling in my head. I’ve spent almost three years with these people. Three whole years is a long time. College honestly wasn’t perfect for me, I had both good days and bad days. But these friends became a big part of that journey. We shared notes before exams, complained about assignments, laughed at the smallest things, and somehow survived all the chaos toge...

I had heard about the term post-trip depression before, but I never believed it was real. I always thought trips are just moments we enjoy for a while, and coming back to normal life is something we all have to do. It felt unavoidable. But here I am now, after going on two trips back to back, a trip to Kodaikanal in December and a trip to Coorg in January, and I finally understand what that term really means. Ever since coming back, I haven’t been able to move on from those days. My mind keeps thinking about where to go next, what place I should visit, what new trip I can plan. Even though I know I’m just a college student and I can’t afford to keep traveling like that, and I don’t even have the time because my final year is the most important phase of my life but I still can’t seem to stop thinking about it. I keep traveling back in my memories, thinking about everything we did on those trips: the late-night gossip, the fun we had, the games we played, the places we explor...

Almost from the day we start schooling, the first thing most elders tell us is to have an ambition. It could be our parents, teachers, or family members, almost everyone says the same thing. They ask us what we want to become, what we want to achieve, or how we plan to be “successful” in life. But throughout my life, I could never clearly figure that out. As a child, I said I wanted to be a teacher. Then a doctor. Then a scientist. Like most of us, I said these things just for the sake of having an answer. Not because I truly understood what they meant. Now, I’m no longer a kid. I’m in my final year, the most crucial phase of my life where I’m expected to choose a path and decide what I’m going to do next. But even now, I still don’t know what I want to become or which direction I should walk toward. This confusion slowly pushed me into a deep hole. A place where I constantly question myself, "Where do I go? What career should I choose?" And Coming from a backgrou...

Trauma is something that lives with us for a very long time. It does not matter whether the incident was big or small. What matters is that it stays. It stays with you, sometimes for years, sometimes for a lifetime. It haunts you, and often, there feels like no escape. Especially for women. I see so many women carrying trauma in silence. It hurts to know that many girls never get the chance to speak about it honestly. There is always fear. Fear of judgment. Fear of questions. What will they think of me? What will happen if I tell them? Will something bad happen to me? These thoughts control them. They lock them in a room they cannot leave, like a dark hole that slowly changes their life. I have heard many stories like this. From my friends, my cousins, and people I know. Almost every woman I know has faced some form of harassment or abuse in her life. That is heartbreaking. Even more painful is knowing that some of them were just children. At an age when they did not even u...

  Funny how life works. You spend years wanting to escape something, only to find yourself wishing you could go back. I spent ten years in an Anglo-Indian girls’ school, and then just like that, I was moved to a co-educational high school. I was upset, to say the least. My new school was the complete opposite of my old one. It was strict, with endless rules to follow, and the worst part was having to eat lunch in the classroom under the watchful eye of our class teacher. No fun. No privacy. Just study, study, study. Back then, I counted the days until it would all be over. I couldn’t wait for school life to end. But little did I know, one day I’d miss it. Recently, our school hosted a food festival. All my high school friends planned to go, and I decided to join. Best decision ever. Seeing them after years felt like a tight hug to my heart. We met our teachers, laughed over the silly memories and shared stories about those days we once wanted to escape. Afte...

To be honest, all of us have lost at least one person we thought we’d spend the rest of our lives with. Unfortunately, I’ve lost many relationships like that. Each time, I tell myself to never build a bond so deep that it could crush me if it ever broke. But my heart never listens. I have wept my eyes out, trying to forget the love we shared, the memories we made, and even the person’s very existence. But then, out of nowhere, a thought struck me; Why do I try to forget the person? Just days ago, they meant the whole world to me. So why should I erase them? That’s when I learned something, "the art of letting go without forgetting". It doesn’t mean we have to erase the love just because we’re no longer together. It’s true, i agree. It hurts. It hurts so badly that sometimes you struggle to even breathe. But that’s okay. You will be alright, eventually. We learn to move forward without erasing the past. We learn to cherish the moments we shared, even if we can’t ha...

There’s a quiet pressure I carry in my head almost every day. An unspoken effort to hold things together, to keep the pieces from falling apart — even when no one else seems to notice the cracks. The thing is — people don’t always see things the same way. Some are so caught up in their own lives that they overlook the quiet acts of care and the small sacrifices made for them. Some choose distance, unbothered about the things happening around them. And others carry love in ways that aren’t always visible but it exists in silence, in gestures so subtle they’re often missed. I feel it in the unspoken moments, in little gestures most people might miss. But it hurts to see when those moments get twisted or misunderstood everytime. And here I am, stuck somewhere in between. Trying. Hoping. Pretending I’m okay when honestly, it feels like my head’s slowly coming undone. Maybe one day things will change. Maybe people will notice what others are carrying in quite ways. Maybe heart...

I’ve always been the type to keep stuff to myself. Not because I wanted to, but honestly, I just didn’t know how to open up. Even my closest friends didn’t really know everything. Little things, big worries, happy moments, sad ones — I just kept it all inside. I grew up like that. Maybe I didn’t want to bother anyone. Or maybe I was just scared they wouldn’t get it. Either way, it became a habit. But after a while, it got heavy. All those thoughts and feelings I never said out loud started piling up. Then one day, I just opened the notes app on my phone and started typing. Just me talking to myself. Saying what hurt, what I missed, what I wished for. Stuff I was too scared to say out loud. And you know what? That felt really good. So I kept doing it. Whenever I felt sad, angry, or even confused about what I was feeling, I would sit at the corner and write. Slowly it became my little safe spot. A place where I didn’t have to pretend I was okay. Then my professor gave us a ch...

I wasn’t looking for anything deep today. I was just scrolling through Instagram to pass time. It’s Sunday — probably one of the most boring days of the week for me. No plans, no excitement. Just endless scrolling to fill the boredom. And then, out of nowhere, I came across a post that made me pause. Those words felt like someone had reached inside my chest and put my entire childhood into a sentence. It was about a girl who was waiting. Waiting for the doors to stop slamming. Waiting for the yelling to stop. Hoping that someone would ask if she was okay. And right then, it hit me right in the heart because that was me. That was my life. I grew up in a house that felt like a battlefield more than a home. I remember, i was waiting too. Waiting for the fights to be over. Waiting for a peaceful day. Waiting for someone to notice the quiet kid sitting in the corner, pretending not to exist. But no one ever did. And for the longest time, I thought it was just me being unlucky to...

Lately, I’ve realised it’s okay to be alone. Not in a sad or angry way — but in a peaceful, quiet way. You don’t always have to surround yourself with people or hold on to every friendship. Sometimes, being alone saves you from overthinking things that don’t deserve that much space in your head. We often expect too much without even noticing it — a message, a call, a little effort. And when it doesn’t come, it hurts more than we care to admit. But here’s the truth: not everyone’s built like you. Some people won’t show up. Some won’t care the way you do. And that’s on them, not you. I’ve learned to let go of expectations. Not because I’ve stopped caring — I still do. But because it hurts less when you stop waiting for people who forget you so easily. It feels lighter when you choose yourself first. Some days, it’s actually nice to be alone. Watch your favourite shows, eat your favourite food, listen to old songs, laugh at your own silly jokes. No explanations, no pretending....

I’ve written about so many things in my life — people I’ve loved, places I’ve missed, moments I’ve cherished. But for some reason, I’ve never written about my sisters. Maybe because it’s hard to put into words what it feels like to have two people who are, at the same time, your biggest enemies and the ones you’d fight the whole world for. They are the people I argue with every day, the ones who drive me insane, steal my stuff, test my patience, and still somehow manage to be my safest place. We fight over the most ridiculous things. Some fights get so serious that we swear not to talk to each other, only to forget about it a few hours later when one of us finds a funny meme or when mom makes something good to eat. That’s just how it is with us — love and hate packed into the same heart, and neither of us knowing how to stay mad for too long. Because no matter how loud the fight or how long the silence lasts, it never feels right when we’re not okay with each other. The thi...

Here’s the thing, nobody is fearless. We all get scared at some point in life, whether it’s about little things like joining a conversation, or bigger things like following a dream. The truth is, fear shows up in all our lives. It whispers doubts in our mind, makes our hearts race, and convinces us that we’re not good enough or not ready yet. But here’s the thing I’ve learned: your fears don’t define you. Your choices do. I used to believe I had to wait until I felt brave enough to start. I thought courage was something that arrived before you took the first step. But I was wrong. Most of the good things in life happen while we’re scared, unsure, and uncertain. The courage comes later — after we make the move. Even now, whenever I sit down to write these blog posts and share my thoughts with the world, a tiny voice inside me asks, “Will anyone care about this? Will this mean anything to someone?” And still — I do it anyway. Because I’ve realized fear shrinks when you face i...

Okay, let me honest now — I’m not the kind of person who experiments with food. You know those people who walk into a restaurant, scan the menu like it’s a mystery novel, and pick something new every time? Yeah… that’s not me. I’m the loyal, safe-ordering type. If I find one thing I like, I’ll stick to it like it’s a lifetime contract. No risks. No regrets. Back when I was a kid, my family friends would drag me to KFC. While everyone else munched on crispy fried chicken, licking their fingers like it was the last meal on Earth, there I was — quietly sipping my Pepsi, minding my own business, judging them for getting so emotional over a piece of chicken. But life has a funny way of humbling you. One fine day, out of pure boredom (or maybe peer pressure — still unclear), I took a bite of that golden, crunchy, perfectly seasoned KFC fried chicken. And just like that… BOOM. My whole world flipped. I saw colors. I heard a romantic violin playing in the background. I swear, if so...

Some people helped me through the hardest moments of my life, and today, I just want to say thank you. Some of you are still around. Some aren’t. And that’s okay. Life took us different ways. Maybe time and distance changed how we show up for each other. But no matter where you are now, I carry you with me. When I was falling apart, you were there. You showed up when everything felt too heavy and my heart hurt in ways I can’t explain. Sometimes with words. Sometimes with silence. Sometimes just by being there, even if you didn’t know what to say. You stayed on the phone when I had nothing to talk about. You reminded me — in your own ways — that I was still here, still breathing, and could get through one more day. You didn’t have all the answers. You couldn’t fix everything. And you didn’t have to. What mattered is that you stayed. Or that you showed up when I needed someone most, even if neither of us realized it at the time. A lot of the strength I have today, I owe to yo...

Sometimes, i don't even know why, home just feels heavy. No matter how much I try to keep things smooth, something little always happens — a word, a look, or just one of those unexpected moments and boom, everything feels tense all over again. And I’m sitting here, asking myself, why does it always end like this? I love them, I really do. But man, it gets exhausting sometimes. The way things play out makes me wonder if I messed up somewhere… if I could’ve handled it better. And even when it’s not really my fault, I still feel bad. Like maybe I should’ve seen it coming, or kept my mouth shut. And honestly, there’s a part of me that gets angry too. Not at them, but at the whole situation. At how it takes one tiny thing for everything to fall apart. It’s really weird to feel mixed emotions like sadness, guilty, and annoyance all together. But.. yeah, at the end of the day, they’re still my people, my family. The ones I care about, even when things get messy. And maybe it’s...

I’ve always been waiting for my college life to end. From the very first semester, I knew this wasn’t my place. I didn’t click with the people. I never really enjoyed the atmosphere. And for years, I’ve counted down — hoping for this chapter to be over. And now, here I am. In just two weeks, I’ll be stepping into my final year of college. The finish line is so close, only one year to go and I should feel nothing but happiness. Right? But it’s not that simple. Of course, I feel happy. I’ve wanted this for so long. But along with that happiness, there’s this strange mix of emotions. Sadness, nervousness, and a quiet fear I can’t fully explain. Maybe it’s the concept that even a place you disliked becomes a part of you when you’ve been there for so long. Or maybe it’s the idea of moving on — because no matter how badly we want to leave certain phases of our lives, the unknown that waits on the other side always feels a little scary. I’m starting to realize it’s normal to feel...