Written Traces

"Punished for their own choices" By Arushi Bhaskar, Indian Express While I can understand the pressure behind the creation of catchy headings having myself been into the industry of content creation I cannot help but to point out that except for the fact that both the murders have happened all the rest are nothing but a narrative of most erring. But what were the choices? The choices of Ayushi Yadav Ayushi Yadav, 21, a girl in her graduation years falls in love with a classmate and decides for a clandestine marriage in Arya Samaj and returns home and spends a whole year at her parent’s house, meeting the boy in public places then returning again to the parent’s house and doing it over throughout the year all the while expecting the parents to approve the marriage and do what ? Keep them both at their house ? Or send them off to the boy’s house ? A surreptitious marriage, was that all that the choice entails? What about the boy? Doesn’t he have something to contribute to t...

I don't like to forget that. Why is that? As opposed to the unanimous mandate , i don't.  It's not like i can't, i so willingly just don't want to. As bad as it might be for a memory to lock i would still very much like to have it, remember it , rehash it and cry for it.  It's oddly satisfying. It really is. I love it , love doing it. I love to cry, whenever i get a chance and whenever no one is around i just remember all the things leading to the end and cry. The harder the gasp the more satisfying the whole process of purging my inside gets.  It really clears up. I can feel how light my heart gets after that. I vouch for it.  The convention doesn't always work. What they say can also sometimes be something you should do the exact opposite of.  The need of remembering is as simple as this, If i don't remember, i will forget. You don't have to be the quickest of a cat to get that. And if i forget , i will be forgetting the end. Then it will be someth...

It all started almost 2 years back. Before, it wasn't healthy. Infact it was all toxic. The talks, the texts, the remarks, the comments, the consolation, the condemnation, all were the same as they felt no different. There wasn't any soothe in the words nor could the words be any more implaling. Even after all the introspection i still can't answer what kept me that long? What was i waiting for? What was i getting from being gaslighted. I laughed at the lamest jokes.  I did my best to go through a full song of k-pop. No xenophobic but i hate Korean means of entertainment, no hard feelings BTS , it's just I don't dig. Not even once during the whole existence did i feel happy.  On the surface, yeah, i am a good perfomer. Call it whatever the hell you want but it takes a real genius to pretend to enjoy a circle or company for 8 effing years. I guess i just did not want to be left alone. I thought the tick tock of the clock, coming from the silence of my room would swal...