Essays

Sometimes courage is just saying hello.

During my solo trip through South India, I spent a few days in Varkala, Kerala. That night, I found myself on a dark road, not sure whether to turn around — and then I saw a couple walking toward me.

The People Who Already Have Enough

There are two brothers in my village whom I have seen since childhood. Every time we passed that road, they were always there — always sitting in the same place, under the mango trees, talking only to each other.

A story about solo travel, unexpected kindness and small moments.

I went to Goa for a month — not just to travel, but to actually live there while managing my remote job. Near one of my favourite cafés, there was a small dreamcatcher shop. Every day while passing by, I would look at those dreamcatchers and feel curious.

Sometimes what holds us back first feels like home.

One day, I was in the kitchen at my parents' house doing something ordinary when my eyes wandered toward the drawing room. The hall lights were off. Everything looked darker than it really was — and then I saw something that stopped me.

Not of things, but of feelings I didn't want to lose.

I was born and raised in a village, and stayed there until I was around 13–14 years old. As a child, I would spend hours walking through those fields — not looking for anything in particular, but somehow always finding something.

What started as a routine slowly became something more.

Recently, my father went through angioplasty after we found out he had two blockages. The doctor advised him to walk at least 2 km every day. So now, in the evenings, I go with him — and these walks have become something I didn't expect.