-
If you listen closely, the majority is snoring, and the powerful are dancing to its tune. I watch these World War II films, stories of Indian independence, and I see people who look just like us giving orders against humanity, more importantly, taking them. – And I see it now too. – People like me,
-
You cannot unchain me only to chain my femininity and call it equality. I was never meant to do things like a man. I’ll do them my way: soft, wild, and wholly mine.
-
We’re sitting in the middle of hell, wondering about heaven, or worse. And the worst? To stay here, and try to make this place a little less cruel. Not for someone else. Just to quiet the noise in our own hearts, to prove we’re not entirely selfish. This hell numbs you. It demands you forget
-
Praying for a Miracle Today, I fought with someone in my family. Not because I said Pahalgam was justified. Not because I denied the loss. Innocent lives were taken, that truth needs no debate. We know who’s right, who’s not. I just shared a very true-to-my-heart, unpolished thought, That we’re lucky. Lucky enough to sit
-
We are the Audience, Not the Soldiers.. Honestly, I’m so confused.I’ve read so many articles,heard so many opinions,and I still don’t know where the truth lies,because missiles don’t.Dead bodies don’t. I know there was a security breach.I know there were terrorists.I know innocents died.I know some facts.But what India is doing about it,or what it
-
I’ve never been one for celebrations; money constraints, and a lack of accomplishments kept me at bay. But as the years unfold, I have seemed to have peeped on the other side, and have been finding birthdays to be rather enchanting. It’s a day where those dear to you make it their mission to paint
-
One of the reasons I write is to make sense of everything. To ask the right questions months later, when my head can finally hold the answers without exploding. I write because sometimes life runs so fast, you don’t even realise what just happened. So I write to make sense of everything. The ink becomes
-
This year, I want to be happy, just smiles, not loud, just quiet. – I want to be new, the way mud feels after rain, soft, and true. – I want another year to come nearer, to mirror me. Maybe this time, I’ll just break free. – Especially to her, a very Happy New Year,
-
Mr. Modi, I hear the echoes again. They come quietly. – With the same coughs. With the same prayers we once whispered into pillows, late at night, Scared. – When the world was red. Two thousand twenty-one. When breathing was scarce. – Dear Prime Minister, We ask for air. – For mornings, just bright enough.
-
Lately, I feel like I’m running just to catch up with myself. Do you ever feel that way? It’s the chase to know who you are, while you’re still becoming someone else. Like missing a train every day, arriving late to your own becoming. Looking back with an ah. Maybe figuring yourself out is just
-
I want the micro stories,the little pieces,the things unsaid. With me, on my pages. In my heart. I want to listen to everything:what you have to say,what a mother whispers,a friend’s quiet cries,someone’s quiet disappointment. Because yes, there’s always a bigger picture,where every story folds into another,becoming a movie,confusing,honest,beautifully human. Like some people build a
-
Dear parents, For a girl living on her own, coming home at 2AM, you don’t just fear for her, you fear with her. So when you call and ask, “Where are you?” let it rest with the answer. Don’t lace it with anger, or blame her for the hour, as if the danger of the
-
How do we believe in what our eyes have never seen? And how do we turn away from what stands clear before us? How do we shape an idol from a face we’ve never known, yet stumble to draw the line, a bright line, between the just and the unjust dancing in plain sight? How
-
Voila, voila: to me the song shouts in blood red, Here I am. – The first image that came to me? A rose I clicked recently. And I sat with that thought. She defined Voila for me. – She knows how to wound, she sleeps with these pointed thorns, some hers, some taken along the
-
I demand basic humanity, respect from anyone I pass on the street, from a fellow human. – I don’t owe you proof of my worth. I will not earn your respect, and I will not stand in a place where I must. – If I exist near you, in any human capacity, I live, and
-
Subscribe
Subscribed
Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
Clueless Ink 