SAFA

There was a time when mornings felt like goodbyes, and even the mirror looked tired of me. I laughed less, slept more, and wore silence like second skin. But healing didn’t come crashing in  it whispered. In small wins, soft songs, and random 3 a.m. realizations that maybe I deserved peace too. I stopped waiting for light, and became it bit by bit, word by word, day by unstable day. Depression didn’t disappear overnight, it just learned to take the passenger seat. And I learned that surviving isn’t loud it’s quiet, brave, and still counts. Now when the darkness knocks, I leave the door half open because even shadows remind me how far the sun has come. 

Today while I was scrolling through Twitter, one headline caught my attention “280 Indians die every day due to over speeding.” I paused for a moment, thinking it was exaggerated. But as I read on, the numbers hit me hard in 2023 alone, over speeding claimed 1,01,841 lives on Indian roads. That’s not just a number  it’s a collection of broken families, shattered dreams, and lives that ended far too soon. Just recently, another horrifying incident reminded us how fragile road safety truly is. In Chinnatekuru village, Kurnool district of Andhra Pradesh,  a private sleeper bus traveling from Hyderabad to Bengaluru collided with a motorcycle in the early hours of the morning. The motorcycle got trapped under the bus and was dragged for several meters before sparks ignited a fire. Within seconds, the bus turned into a fireball. Many passengers were asleep, and several didn’t survive. That tragedy could have been prevented. A moment’s speed, a second of negligence  and dozens o...

 My Dear blog – My Silent Therapist  There are days when my heart bleeds with anxiety, when even silence feels heavy. My under-eyes have turned darker, almost as if they carry the weight of sleepless nights and unspoken thoughts. My brain feels like a rock  burdened, still, and unmovable  while somewhere deep within, my heart keeps softly chanting the name of peace. Sometimes, I feel as though the world itself is an impostor. Not because people are cruel, but because my own situation blinds me to its beauty. My emotions swing between extremes  one moment I find comfort in Karl Marx’s ideas, and the next, I’m lost in the maze of existential questions. It’s as if the world is wrapped in despair, and I’m walking through it without a map. There are moments when I see myself in Sylvia Plath  her silence, her struggle, her search for meaning. Certain thoughts make my mind infertile, while others drain me completely. At times, I genuinely feel like I’m not meant f...