I’m Riya Kumari, a graduate in Multimedia and Mass Communication from Indraprastha College for Women. From a young age, I found myself drawn to people’s stories. “Saving people” was never just a dramatic idea; it was a quiet instinct that kept growing. Friends, classmates, even strangers would come to me, and somewhere in those conversations, I discovered my voice. Not just to speak, but to guide, to comfort, and to inspire. Over time, that voice turned into a deeper purpose: to write. But not just for the sake of writing. I write to leave a mark. I want to create words that people carry with them long after they’ve finished reading. If something I write helps someone take one step forward, feel a little less lost, or rethink something that matters, then I know I’m doing what I’m meant to do.
I’m Riya Kumari, a graduate in Multimedia and Mass Communication from Indraprastha College for Women. From a young age, I found myself drawn to people’s stories. “Saving people” was never just a dramatic idea; it was a quiet instinct that kept growing. Friends, classmates, even strangers would come to me, and somewhere in those conversations, I discovered my voice. Not just to speak, but to guide, to comfort, and to inspire. Over time, that voice turned into a deeper purpose: to write. But not just for the sake of writing. I write to leave a mark. I want to create words that people carry with them long after they’ve finished reading. If something I write helps someone take one step forward, feel a little less lost, or rethink something that matters, then I know I’m doing what I’m meant to do.
By Riya Kumari
Lord Ram’s life does not offer shallow comfort. It offers something better: a way to remain human without becoming broken, and a way to remain good without becoming weak. For the person who is tired of carrying everything with a calm face, this is the deeper message: your pain is real, but it does not have to become your identity. Your duties are important, but they are not the whole of you. Your emotions deserve respect, but not surrender.
Lord Ram’s life does not offer shallow comfort. It offers something better: a way to remain human without becoming broken, and a way to remain good without becoming weak. For the person who is tired of carrying everything with a calm face, this is the deeper message: your pain is real, but it does not have to become your identity. Your duties are important, but they are not the whole of you. Your emotions deserve respect, but not surrender.
By Riya Kumari
Shiva sits on a tiger skin, not a throne, because his power is is inner, mastered, and self-existing. The tiger skin symbolizes force brought under awareness, instinct transformed into steadiness, intensity made conscious. Traditional iconography shows Shiva with the tiger hide; interpretive traditions explain it as mastery over primal drives; yogic tradition places such a seat in the domain of practice and inward discipline.
Shiva sits on a tiger skin, not a throne, because his power is is inner, mastered, and self-existing. The tiger skin symbolizes force brought under awareness, instinct transformed into steadiness, intensity made conscious. Traditional iconography shows Shiva with the tiger hide; interpretive traditions explain it as mastery over primal drives; yogic tradition places such a seat in the domain of practice and inward discipline.
By Riya Kumari
There are nights when nothing is wrong… and yet everything feels unsettled. The room is quiet, the lights are off, but the mind refuses to switch off. Old conversations replay, future fears quietly creep in, and sleep feels like something you have to earn, not something that comes naturally. And in those moments, people don’t reach for logic. They reach for something that feels stronger than their thoughts.
There are nights when nothing is wrong… and yet everything feels unsettled. The room is quiet, the lights are off, but the mind refuses to switch off. Old conversations replay, future fears quietly creep in, and sleep feels like something you have to earn, not something that comes naturally. And in those moments, people don’t reach for logic. They reach for something that feels stronger than their thoughts.
By Riya Kumari
There are moments in life when opposition does not come from one person, but from many. A room changes when you enter. A sentence is thrown at you with a smile sharp enough to wound. People do not always attack with fists. Sometimes they attack with tone, exclusion, mockery, and the strange pleasure of watching whether you will shrink.
There are moments in life when opposition does not come from one person, but from many. A room changes when you enter. A sentence is thrown at you with a smile sharp enough to wound. People do not always attack with fists. Sometimes they attack with tone, exclusion, mockery, and the strange pleasure of watching whether you will shrink.
By Riya Kumari
The strange thing about office politics is that nobody admits they believe in it until it happens to them. Before that, everyone is very noble. Very professional. Very “I just focus on my work.” Then one promotion disappears, one meeting invite “accidentally” skips your name, one idea returns wearing someone else’s shirt.
The strange thing about office politics is that nobody admits they believe in it until it happens to them. Before that, everyone is very noble. Very professional. Very “I just focus on my work.” Then one promotion disappears, one meeting invite “accidentally” skips your name, one idea returns wearing someone else’s shirt.
By Riya Kumari
Most people are not afraid of love. They are afraid of what love seems to ask from them. Not the poems, not the promises, not the warm beginning when everything feels lit from within. They are afraid of the slow, almost invisible way love can start rearranging the furniture inside them. One day you are simply caring.
Most people are not afraid of love. They are afraid of what love seems to ask from them. Not the poems, not the promises, not the warm beginning when everything feels lit from within. They are afraid of the slow, almost invisible way love can start rearranging the furniture inside them. One day you are simply caring.
By Riya Kumari
A lot of relationships do not end because of betrayal, abuse, or some dramatic movie-scene betrayal in the rain. They end quietly. They end when one person feels constantly misread. When affection starts feeling like work. When warmth turns into performance. When a good man, who came in with sincerity, slowly begins to feel like no matter what he does, he is arriving at a house where the lights are on, but nobody is really home.
A lot of relationships do not end because of betrayal, abuse, or some dramatic movie-scene betrayal in the rain. They end quietly. They end when one person feels constantly misread. When affection starts feeling like work. When warmth turns into performance. When a good man, who came in with sincerity, slowly begins to feel like no matter what he does, he is arriving at a house where the lights are on, but nobody is really home.
By Riya Kumari
Ever walked into a room and felt the energy shift, but not in a good way? Someone gets colder, quieter, sharper, or suddenly starts acting strange for no clear reason. You did not insult them. You did not compete with them. You just existed a little too confidently, a little too clearly, a little too fully. And that is exactly what unsettles insecure people.
Ever walked into a room and felt the energy shift, but not in a good way? Someone gets colder, quieter, sharper, or suddenly starts acting strange for no clear reason. You did not insult them. You did not compete with them. You just existed a little too confidently, a little too clearly, a little too fully. And that is exactly what unsettles insecure people.
By Riya Kumari
Sometimes what breaks you is not a person leaving. It is the silence that follows their absence. The empty place where a message used to arrive. The pause where laughter once lived. The version of yourself that only seemed to exist around them. You tell yourself you miss them. But if you sit with that feeling long enough, without running from it, another truth begins to appear.
Sometimes what breaks you is not a person leaving. It is the silence that follows their absence. The empty place where a message used to arrive. The pause where laughter once lived. The version of yourself that only seemed to exist around them. You tell yourself you miss them. But if you sit with that feeling long enough, without running from it, another truth begins to appear.
By Riya Kumari
Sometimes it doesn’t feel like love, it feels like being chosen just enough to keep you hoping. You mistake attention for warmth, and silence for punishment. You don’t miss them, you miss the version of yourself they briefly reflected back. And when they leave, it isn’t heartbreak -it’s withdrawal from being seen for the first time again.
Sometimes it doesn’t feel like love, it feels like being chosen just enough to keep you hoping. You mistake attention for warmth, and silence for punishment. You don’t miss them, you miss the version of yourself they briefly reflected back. And when they leave, it isn’t heartbreak -it’s withdrawal from being seen for the first time again.
By Deepak Rajeev
By Amisha Sharma
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By Deepak Rajeev
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