Bhavika🦋

This is why trusting feels scary now… Reading about harassment cases and millions visiting sites that teach abuse, is terrifying. It doesn’t just scare me, It convinces me that maybe we were never meant to trust men. And just when that thought settles in, ...I see a man mark a spot on the moon for his late wife, “I love you from the moon.” And for a moment, I believe, not all men. But moments don’t last. Because men like Reid Wiseman feel rare… And the others? They're everywhere. So no, not all men. But somehow… always men.

When did we start believing that happiness must be earned through suffering? That question came to mind after I heard someone say she needs to endure years of hurt, struggle, and pain before she can finally be happy. It made me wonder how often we think the same way in everyday life. We tell ourselves that if we endure enough, sacrifice enough, or suffer enough, there will eventually be joy waiting for us—as if life rewards pain. Maybe that's why so many of us stay in situations that hurt us. We're convinced that pain is the price we must pay for a better life. But who decided that suffering is the only path to it? What if we've been overlooking other possibilities all along? Maybe it's all a matter of perspective. Sometimes, all we need is a different outlook—one that's a little more hopeful, a little more open, and willing to believe that not every good thing in life is waiting on the other side of suffering. Perhaps it's waiting on the other side of a different choice.

"She is too much," they say. Too ambitious. Too demanding. Too difficult to please. She wants respect. She wants honesty. She wants effort that matches her own. The same standards they admire in others suddenly become a problem when she has them too. And somehow, that makes her 'too much.'

I want to be loved... by his whole being. I want his presence to quiet the noise inside me. I want to find peace in his eyes. I want his hand gently brushing through my hair whenever life feels too heavy. I want to fall into his arms without pretending I’m okay. I want him to hug me when I’m one second away from breaking down. And even if you cannot say it aloud, I’ll still notice your red eyes. I’ll still hold your restless hands. I’ll still run my fingers through your hair until your breathing slows down again.

It’s so easy and clear to talk in my head… everything just flows.

Things change the moment you turn 25. People start looking at you differently, as if you’ve suddenly become a 60-year-old woman. They begin to think you’re too old for the “marriage market” and should just settle down with any man who approaches you. After 25, you begin to recognize the parts of yourself you hid a long time ago—or never even explored. You realize you don’t need a husband; you need a partner. A friend. Someone you can have heartfelt conversations with (yes, conversations—not just playing the role of a listener). The voices we grew up listening to build certain concepts of marriage within us, and we only got to understand their reality right when our twenties begin to shift. Maybe that’s why they want us to get married early. And sometimes, I wonder… What if I had never come across this reality? What if I had stayed in that bubble of beliefs about marriage, comfortable for society? Would life have been easier? Because then, I would never know what exists on the other side. But I also think… that gut feeling, that intuition, would still keep searching for something easier, something truer. Once you recognize it, you can’t unfeel it.

We say, “there's always another way”, but do we ever actually go looking for it? There are moments when everything feels like it’s narrowing down… to just one way forward.  So we try. And we fail. And instead of turning around, We keep standing in front of the same closed door, hoping it might open someday. We wait. We overthink. We convince ourselves that this has to be it. And slowly, without even realizing, We stop looking around. We close our eyes to the possibility that there could be other ways, quieter, unfamiliar, but still meant for us. And somewhere in that waiting… We forget that we can leave. Maybe that door didn’t open for a reason. Maybe it was never the only one. Maybe we just didn’t look enough.

We spend months preparing... for moments that last only hours.

They say moving to the city upgrades your life… but no one talks about what it quietly takes away.

They say moving to the city upgrades your life… but no one talks about what it quietly takes away. In the city, everything is close. Stores. Offices. Malls. Convenience at every step. But somehow, life itself starts to feel distant. In my village, I see my mother carefully saving old clothes, exchanging them with the feriwala for new utensils. And somehow, those utensils feel more valuable than anything I could buy at a fixed price in a mall. Because here, it’s not just a purchase—it’s a memory, a quiet exchange of effort and emotion. Walking along the roadside doesn’t feel the same in the city. It feels rushed, unnoticed… almost replaceable. And festivals… they change too. Back in the village, the Ganesh festival meant something deeper. Women gathering together, laughing, making rangolis, decorating every corner with love. It wasn’t just a celebration. It was a connection. I don’t think that feeling can ever truly exist in the city. Maybe the city gives you comfort... But the village gives you something the city never can. A sense of belonging. And somewhere between convenience and connection…We all quietly choose what we’re willing to lose.

Do we women really have freedom?

They didn’t lock the cage. They just convinced us it was the whole world. Sometimes it feels like we are placed inside a cage first, and then slowly convinced that the cage is the whole world. “See,” they say, “this is your world. You can roam freely here.” But this world already has boundaries — boundaries set by them. So how do you expect us to see freedom in that? You say, “You can buy whatever you want with this money.” Yet you still decide what I buy and how much I spend, because in the end, the money is yours — not mine. And somehow I am still expected to feel grateful for that freedom. You say we are free to dress how we want, to do fashion, to express ourselves. As long as it stays within the limits you find acceptable. Yes, we do have freedom. And sometimes we do not even realise those boundaries exist until we try to cross them. And to the women who live within these kinds of freedoms, this is not a mockery of you. It is a quiet acknowledgment of how hard it is to live like this. Because surviving inside a cage that is constantly called freedom requires a kind of strength people rarely notice. You are not weak. You are brave. And maybe one day, you will find the door that leads beyond this cage, to a freedom that does not come with invisible limits. Because true freedom is not when someone tells you how far you can go. It is when no one gets to decide that for you.

They didn’t lock the cage. They just convinced us it was the whole world. Sometimes it feels like we are placed inside a cage first, and then slowly convinced that the cage is the whole world. “See,” they say, “this is your world. You can roam freely here.” But this world already has boundaries — boundaries set by them. So how do you expect us to see freedom in that? You say, “You can buy whatever you want with this money.” Yet you still decide what I buy and how much I spend, because in the end, the money is yours — not mine. And somehow I am still expected to feel grateful for that freedom. You say we are free to dress how we want, to do fashion, to express ourselves. As long as it stays within the limits you find acceptable. Yes, we do have freedom. And sometimes we do not even realise those boundaries exist until we try to cross them. And to the women who live within these kinds of freedoms, this is not a mockery of you. It is a quiet acknowledgment of how hard it is to live like this. Because surviving inside a cage that is constantly called freedom requires a kind of strength people rarely notice. You are not weak. You are brave. And maybe one day, you will find the door that leads beyond this cage, to a freedom that does not come with invisible limits. Because true freedom is not when someone tells you how far you can go. It is when no one gets to decide that for you.

I thought I was just running to class. Turns out, I was running back to myself. I was late for yoga today, so I ran. And somewhere between catching my breath and feeling the morning air brush against my cheeks, something shifted. My body felt light. My mind felt calm. As if I had been carrying invisible weight for days, and only realized it when my feet started moving. I was smiling. For no dramatic reason. Just… smiling. I haven’t felt that in a while. And suddenly, I felt grateful — for the shoes I was wearing, for my favorite breakfast waiting at home, for doing the best yoga pose in class. Nothing extraordinary happened. But everything felt enough. And that’s when I realized, happiness isn’t something I have to chase. It’s already here. In small, ordinary things. I just forgot to notice it.

I learned the hard way that memories are fleeting — even the ones that once felt like the best days of our lives. You cherish them. You promise yourself you’ll never forget. You replay them in your head like a favorite song. And then… life happens. You get busy. You grow. New memories arrive, and without even realizing it, the space old memories once occupied is gradually replaced by new, louder ones. Only a few stay untouched. The rest soften at the edges. Even the ones you once thought you could never forget begin to blur. But that doesn’t mean they meant nothing. It doesn’t mean they weren’t real. It just means we kept living. Maybe moving on isn’t forgetting. It's survival. And I guess that’s life — constantly asking us what we’re willing to carry, and what we’re ready to let become a quiet part of us.

But What Is Love, Really?