Latest Writings

At the southernmost tip of India, where three seas meet, lies Kanyakumari. A town that cradles and cuts in equal measure. I grew up chasing waves on its beaches, eating breakfasts that smelled of spice and memory, and living in a community where strangers still knew my name. Yet beneath the warmth ran another current: gossip, shame, and the weight of fitting in. This is the paradox of my hometown. It teaches stillness like the sea, yet resists change like the shore.

The more advanced life gets, the more restless we become. Progress is supposed to make us happy, yet it often feels like pressure. We’re so busy chasing the “next” that we forget the “now.” And in the process, we end up more connected than ever but lonelier too, blind to the simple blessings right in front of us.

It started like any other Sunday. A cup of coffee, a messy bun, and a deep silence in the living room. But within minutes, everything began to unravel. The kitchen exploded into chaos, my laptop drowned in coffee, and the day slipped further into disaster. And that was only the beginning.