Nayana's Stories, Reflections, and Conversations That Matter

I don't want to do anything. I don't want to wake up from my bed. I just want to look at the ceiling while that one drop of tear comes slowly, without me even realising it. I don't want to talk to anyone — me, who was once the most talkative in the room. I just want to sit with myself. Hold myself. Console myself. There are so many things in my mind right now and I don't know where to put them. I have tried — god, I have tried. I tried showing up. I tried being okay. I tried being the person everyone needed me to be. But right now, I just don't want to. Not because I've given up. But because I'm tired in a way that sleep doesn't fix . Once, I just wanted to do everything. I wanted to be the most spoiled version of me. I wanted to be pampered, to dream big, to hold everyone close. I wanted to be the girl who had it all and gave it all. I had so much want in me. Now I just don't feel like it. I have always loved deeply . Fully. The kind of love ...

  The crow that stayed            One evening, I noticed a crow sitting quietly on the backyard wall. Since morning, many crows had been cawing, but it hadn’t bothered me—it felt like the usual rhythm of the day. But this was different. In the evening hush, one crow sat alone, still and untouched, as if wrapped in its own silence. Maybe it had been left out. Maybe it felt lonely. I thought it was resting and would fly away soon. I kept checking, again and again, but it stayed—silent, unmoving. No other crows nearby. No sound. No one to ask what had happened. Its head was lowered, as if listening to something inside itself. Maybe it was sad. Maybe it was tired. Or maybe, in a world full of noise, it felt unheard. Perhaps no one cared to listen to its quiet grief. Or maybe it was nearing the end of its life and simply wanted some peace. Heaven knows what was in its mind. The crow didn’t fly away. It stayed on the wall as the sky darkened and a...

  Do You Know How Important It Is to Be Present? While growing up, no one was present for my school events or activities. I always cried for that presence. Even when people were physically there, I was often asked, “Why do you participate? I can’t take leave.” Slowly, I stopped participating in everything. I became the kid who never expected anyone to show up. Being present is the bare minimum, yet somehow it has become a luxury. I used to watch other families holding their children, appreciating them, cheering for them. I would just smirk and tell myself, “It’s okay. It’s nothing.” But deep inside, a small part of me always wondered what it would feel like to look into the crowd and see someone there just for me. It’s not that I hate my people. Maybe everyone had their own reasons, their own responsibilities. Perhaps someone needed them more than I did. So it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s just the past. Recently, something happened that made me think about all of...

Not a House, But a Home Some walls shelter us. Others raise us. Growing up, I never really knew what a permanent house felt like. Since I was born, we’ve lived in rented homes . I’ve lost count now, but we’ve changed houses at least ten times. So for me, it was never just one roof that sheltered me—there were many. Many houses know my story. Many walls have heard my quiet cries. Many floors have felt the weight of my frustration. Many windows have caught my random smiles. Many doors have seen me laugh like nothing's wrong. And no, it’s not just those three steps outside that saw me fall—there are many. I never had that one corner people talk about—their childhood, the place they run to when life feels heavy. Because every time I found mine, we moved. New house. New neighborhood. New adjustments. And it always took me at least four months to sleep properly… to feel like, “Okay, maybe this is home now.” But deep down, it never was. It was just a house—not my home. Then someone ...

  Hello ! To the world by my word , There’s one thing I’ll never understand about life… How can someone who was once our everything just leave? Someone we played with. Laughed with. Fought with. Dreamed with. Someone who understood our silences better than our words. We had plans. Inside jokes. Complaints about the world. A list of things we wanted to do together. We had time—or at least, we thought we did. And then, one day, they were just… gone. No warning. No letter. No goodbye. They left quietly, like a whisper. And we’re left screaming inside a silence that no one else can hear. I still remember the little things they taught me—how to boil an egg, how to fold laundry, how to ride a cycle, how to fight for what I believe in. But the one thing they never taught me was how to live without them. To whom will I run when I’m sick now? Who will hold my face and say, “You’ll be fine, don’t worry”? To whom will I cry when someone scolds me, or when life feels unfair? ...

  Shhh... She is WOMAN " या देवी सर्वभूतेषु शक्ति - रूपेण संस्थिता। नमस्तस्यै नमस्तस्यै नमस्तस्यै नमो नमः।। " She is in every woman. In her strength, in her struggles, in her silent endurance. She exists in the fire that destroys injustice, in the love that nurtures life, In the courage that stands unshaken, and in the pain she carries with grace. Woman!!! What does it mean to be a woman? Is it the softness in her touch or the storm in her soul? Is it the quiet sacrifices she makes or the battles she fights without a sword? Being a woman still surprises me—the way women are built, the way women endure, the way women rise even when the world tries to push them down. We are taught to be strong but not too strong, bold but not too loud. And yet, history tells a different story. The earth itself is called Mother Earth—why? Because she nurtures, she gives, she creates. Then why do we question the power of a woman when she is the very foundation of life?...