My Story

Back in 2015, when I was studying in 8th standard, a movie called Premam was released. It became more than just a film—it became a phenomenon in Kerala. Everywhere I looked, people were talking about it. The songs were everywhere, the hairstyle became a trend, the dialogues were repeated by everyone, and Nivin Pauly became the face of youth culture. Everyone loved the movie. Except me. I watched it back then and honestly felt bored. I couldn’t understand why people were going crazy over it. To me, it was just a simple story—love, breakup, another love, another breakup, and finally a happy ending. I felt the hype was unnecessary. But now, in 2026, ten years later, I watched Premam again. And this time, it hit me deeply. The movie had not changed. I had. When I first watched it, I was too young to understand what the film was really saying. At that age, I only saw the plot. I watched with eyes, not with experience. I knew nothing about heartbreak, emotional growth, losing people, or how ...

  My grandmother turned 79, and I remember quietly telling myself that we would celebrate her 80th birthday in a grand way. Eighty felt special—eight decades of life, memories, struggles, and love. That milestone deserved something big, I thought. But my father didn’t wait. He brought a cake, and our family gathered around her that day. There was nothing extravagant—just familiar faces, soft laughter, and a woman who looked deeply happy in that moment. When she smiled, it felt like time had slowed down. It was one of those ordinary moments that you don’t realize is extraordinary until much later. Two months later, she was gone. That was when it hit me: that celebration had been her last birthday. Not the grand 80th I had imagined, but a simple 79th—made meaningful only because we chose not to postpone it. Even today, when I think about it, I feel relieved that we celebrated. If we hadn’t, the memory might have been replaced by regret—the kind that stays with you forever. Life ...

   During my final year of college, our department organized a trip to Agra and New Delhi. There was a quiet excitement in the air—college life was coming to an end in just two months, and all of us wanted to hold on to memories that would last beyond classrooms and examinations. We boarded the Tamil Nadu Express to Agra, and my two friends and I were seated near an elderly couple, perhaps in their seventies. From the very beginning, they seemed genuinely delighted to meet us. They asked us questions about our studies, our hometowns, and our plans after college. We answered with ease, happy to engage in conversation. They told us they were from the Pudukkottai district of Tamil Nadu and were traveling to Agra. The journey was long—two and a half days—and my friends passed the time in their own ways. On the second day, as I sat talking with the couple, the elderly man slowly began to share his life story. He told me that theirs was a love marriage. For years, his wife had dr...

  It had been a long time since our family had taken a break together. We went on a one-day trip to Varkala to celebrate my parents' 25th wedding anniversary. It was a small celebration, but one filled with love, laughter, and lots of memories. The next day I woke up early and went for a walk on the beach around 6 AM. It was quiet. Very few people were around. The sea was calm. The sound of the waves was the only thing I could hear. In front of me was the vast Arabian Sea, and behind me stood the tall and beautiful Varkala Cliff. I felt peace. Rarely do Indian beaches offer this kind of calm. Usually, they're bursting with people, selfies, music, and chaos. But this morning was different. It felt like the world had paused—for me, for this moment. I stood there facing the vast Arabian Sea and mentally traced a line across the ocean. “If I travel 4000 kilometres straight from here,” I thought, “I’d land in Somalia.” Funny how small and connected the world can seem when you...

  Hostel food sucks. It’s one of those universal truths of student life. Some days, you tolerate it. Other days, your soul demands justice. That day was one of those days. The food was so bad, even my survival instincts rebelled. There was only one solution—eating outside. So, I did what any good friend would do—I dragged my best buddies, Thakur Bhai, Navaneeth, and Mhathung, out for a food mission. Now, before I dive into the actual incident, let me introduce the main character of this story—Shrikant Thakur, aka Thakur Bhai, the undisputed pride of Uttar Pradesh. But to understand why this guy is legendary, we need to rewind a bit. The Covid Chronicles: How It All Began Our first year of college was nothing short of a disaster. Thanks to Covid-19, we were stuck in online classes, pretending to listen while secretly watching Netflix. Among the many courses we had, there was this one Foundational Course —basically, a glorified Moral Science class. The professor? Mr. Devasahayam,...

  During my second year of college, I was assigned a thought-provoking yet complex topic: Historical Injustice Faced by Women in India. It wasn’t just another research paper; it was a deep dive into the centuries of suppression, discrimination, and struggles endured by women in our patriarchal society. I knew the topic was vast, and merely scratching the surface wouldn't do justice to it. I needed insight—something beyond the usual textbooks and online articles. That’s when I thought of Arpita didi. She was my senior and a researcher working on Unsung Women in Indian History. If anyone could offer me a fresh and compelling perspective, it was her. I approached her one evening after class, hoping she would share some valuable insights. To my delight, she was more than willing to help. We met in the college library, where the towering bookshelves stood as silent witnesses to the history we were about to unravel. As we settled in a quiet corner, flipping through dusty old texts,...