We don’t really know each other. Maybe we’ve crossed paths on a crowded street, in a local bus or in a glance we forgot. Or maybe we were once close friends, confidants until life turned us into strangers again.

There are strangers I pass every day, people who exist in glimpses. A server who knows my order but not my name, A co-passenger whose playlist I overheard and secretly enjoyed, stationery shop owner who gives me a discount without me even asking just because I’m a regular customer, A stranger offering me a smile reminding me of kindness without reason.

Some strangers were once close. we've shared deep talks, warmth and made my days better just by being there. Their names still sit in my phone, their posts still appears in my feed and some songs still bring them back to me. I wonder if life has been kind to you. Do you still smile the same or has time changed you like it changed me?

Maybe we’ll never meet again or maybe we’ll share a small smile pretending the past never happened. Anyway, I hope you're happy.

No matter who you are new, familiar or someone from the past. I hope you're doing well and wish you peace.

Sincerely,
Someone Who Once Knew You or Maybe Never Did.

-

Since childhood we have been called symbols of patience, love, purity and divinity. At first, these words seemed beautiful but as I grew up I realized they came with silent rules. Be patient, be kind, sacrifice, endure. These expectations were placed on us so naturally that we believed we had to follow them.

Not all my experiences with women have been perfect. There were moments when I felt male bonds were easier less complicated, less demanding. But then, there are women who have inspired me, encouraged me, admired me, and stayed with me through everything. Women who never let me feel alone, who compliment me even when I doubt myself, who see me beyond my flaws. They may seem tough, reserved or unpredictable but deep down they are just little girls longing for love, appreciation, someone to notice their efforts.

We don’t always have to be strong or perfect. It’s okay to feel lost, make mistakes and choose ourselves first. Just don’t let the world define you be who you truly are even if it breaks expectations.

My mother always says,
" I don’t need those sugarcoated words that only exist to control us"
And I couldn’t agree more.

Happy Women's Day Queens!
Thank you for existing.

-

Dear Unspoken Thoughts,

There are moments when silence speaks louder than words when a shared glance, a echoing pause or an unsaid goodbye holds more weight than an entire conversation. I’ve come to realize that not everything needs to be spoken, not every feeling needs a name. Some emotions are meant to be felt, acknowledged, and then set free.

I used to believe that understanding required explanation, that people needed to hear my thoughts to truly know me. But now, I find comfort in the quiet understanding of those who don’t ask for reasons, who simply stay. Maybe connection isn’t about words, Maybe it's about a presence that remains, even in the absence of words.

So, Here’s to the moments that don’t need words, the feelings that go beyond language, and the people who just get it.

With heartfelt thanks,
Nirai Mathi.

-

I crossed the old bridge as usual, the cold railing familiar beneath my fingers. The sunset turned the sky orange but I hardly noticed. My eyes stayed on the uneven ground, the pits and scattered trash that had gathered over time. It wasn’t beautiful, but it was mine, marked with memories.

The bridge, ignored by many, but I felt like the time paused. It held pieces of my past loneliness, confusion and a search for something I couldn’t define. I stayed longer than planned, feeling weighed down. I wasn’t looking for answers, but something kept bringing me back maybe the comfort of a place that understood me and held my memories.

I thought about the girl I used to be the one with big dreams and the belief she’d find her place. Along the way, she faded, replaced by someone unsure, always trying to meet expectations.

I opened my journal and reread, "Why am I always just a placeholder?" The question still hurt, unanswered. As the sun set, I realized the search wasn’t about finding what was lost. It was about moving forward, from this broken place.

Maybe this bridge wasn’t about crossing, but about standing still long enough to let the memories settle and figure out where I was going.

-

It was the color of the quiet night sky,
a color that every Indian parent used to
groom as a beauty mark
for their babies. Even girls use it for grooming,
but they still wouldn't allow them to wear it
during festival seasons.

And then the color of a fresh cup of coffee,
the color of old books and aesthetics,
speaking of the comfort I share with my closest people.

Then, the color of a ripe apple,
the blush of a rose, and the glow of a sunset,
seen in the quiet moments of reflection and
the rush of excitement.

-

Dear Diary,

Recently, a second year student at University was sexually assaulted on campus. Two men attacked her male friend and then assaulted her. One of them was known for recording private moments of couples or friends and blackmailing girls.I imagined myself in this situation, but luckily I have supportive parents who can confront whoever recorded me.

Why can’t people mind their own business? Whether someone is with a friend or partner, it’s their choice. Society should stop imposing judgments and let individuals decide for themselves. Many survivors stay silent, fearing societal judgment or parental disapproval. And the truth is, it isn't the first time. Why aren't those girls brave enough to confess it to their parents or the police?

It's heartbreaking that society blames the victim, not just the culprit. Change requires awareness and respect for personal boundaries. Change starts with awareness, empathy, and action. We must stop blaming victims and hold culprits answerable. It's time to create a society where everyone feels safe and respected, free from fear of judgment or harm. Only then can true change begin.

With much pain and agony
A person who really cares

-

In the temple's silent air,
A maestro's song was meant to flare.
Casteless, divine, it soared so high,
Beyond the gods, it touched the sky.

Yet the gates closed, no sound was made,
Not by noise, but stillness' shade.
A melody too pure to bind,
Stopped by silence, but free in mind.

-

Once there was a girl without care,
Now she wonders if she's still there.

She too spent her vacations at her
grandparents' house, playing in the fields,
She too ran barefoot with friends,
chasing cotton candy and laughing in the breeze,
She too waited for the ice cream cart
on hot summer afternoons,
She too built secret hideouts and shared stories
with childhood friends,
She too struggled in school but found
happiness in small achievements,
She too became happy like a child
whenever she saw children,
She too admired small things even during
moodouts,
She too admired her mother’s quiet
strength and wise words more than her
way of draping sarees.

But now, living with uncertainty and
dilemmas, balancing love, dreams, and duties,
Finding joy in small things, yet unsure of what lies ahead.

-

My thoughts are too loud to ignore,
When there isn't a word enough to express how I feel,
When there's something I don't want to share just yet.
When there's no moment that needs an audience,
When silence speaks louder than conversation,
And when no one understands my need for space.

In those quiet moments, I find myself again and it helps me feel complete.

-

At the end of the Lobby, there was a door that always caught my attention. It wasn’t fancy it was just a simple wooden door with a rusty lock. But something about it made me curious.

Every day, I walked past it, my curiosity growing with each step. The old door seemed to hold secrets was it filled with forgotten artifacts, hidden treasures, or simply empty? Some days, I imagined it as a space waiting to reveal its stories, while other times, I wondered if it was just a silent, empty room. No matter what, the question lingered, unanswered, in my mind.

One evening, I couldn’t resist anymore and decided to find out what was behind the door. I tried the handle, but it wouldn’t open it was locked. I searched everywhere for a key, checking drawers, cupboards, and boxes, but I couldn’t find one anywhere.

I sat down in front of the door, staring at it. I thought about trying to force it open but stopped myself. Maybe the mystery of it was better than knowing what was inside.

I realized the door didn’t need to be opened. Sometimes, not knowing felt more meaningful. The door stayed locked, its secrets safe. I left it that way locked and quiet and that made it special.

-