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
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 Riya Kumari
Loyalty is easy to praise when life is soft. When money is steady, health is kind, and the future looks clean and well-lit, almost any relationship can appear strong. The real test comes when the road breaks beneath your feet. When you are no longer impressive. When your plans fail. When your confidence becomes quiet. That is when you begin to see who is standing beside you, and who was only walking beside your comfort.
Loyalty is easy to praise when life is soft. When money is steady, health is kind, and the future looks clean and well-lit, almost any relationship can appear strong. The real test comes when the road breaks beneath your feet. When you are no longer impressive. When your plans fail. When your confidence becomes quiet. That is when you begin to see who is standing beside you, and who was only walking beside your comfort.
By Riya Kumari
Sometimes Pain settles like evening light in an empty room. You are making tea, replying to a message, walking past a place you once shared, and suddenly something inside you shifts. Not because you want them back exactly, and not because you still believe the story can be repaired. It is something quieter than that. The feeling remains, even when the future is gone.
Sometimes Pain settles like evening light in an empty room. You are making tea, replying to a message, walking past a place you once shared, and suddenly something inside you shifts. Not because you want them back exactly, and not because you still believe the story can be repaired. It is something quieter than that. The feeling remains, even when the future is gone.
By Riya Kumari
This is not just a question about love. It is a question about who you become when love enters your life. It is about whether you trust intensity more than stability, whether familiarity is being mistaken for destiny, whether your deepest self wants what your restless self is chasing in the moment.
This is not just a question about love. It is a question about who you become when love enters your life. It is about whether you trust intensity more than stability, whether familiarity is being mistaken for destiny, whether your deepest self wants what your restless self is chasing in the moment.
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