Everyone says:
“Pichi rathalu”, “Time waste”, “Just focus on your studies.”
But I say:
Writings born from pain are never random.
They carry pieces of my silence,
echoes of my battles,
and truths too heavy to speak aloud.

"The happiness given by ours, real and permanent cannot be valued in words and deeds."

"Sometimes,
it’s not necessary to show people in which aspect you are the best and prove that you are talented.
Some things remain precious when hidden."

They call it pichi rathalu.
They laugh. Say I’m wasting time.
Say I should just focus on studies, like everyone else.

But they don’t know.
They don’t know these pages hold my pain—
not drama, not attention-seeking.
Real pain. The kind that keeps you up at 2 AM.
The kind that chokes you when you're trying to smile.

I write because if I don’t, I’ll explode.
I write because it’s the only thing that listens without judgment.
Because no one asked me,
“What happened?”
They just said,
“Be strong.”
“Move on.”
“Stop being so emotional.”

So I bleed on paper.
That’s not madness. That’s survival.

Let them call it anything.
This—
this is the only thing keeping me alive.

They say, “Just study, forget all this.”
But how do you forget
what saved you?

These writings—
they aren’t just thoughts.
They’re survival.
They’re scars made beautiful.

Let them call it anything...

He need not bring us luxuries,
As he never failed to fulfill our needs even without asking;
He need not be taking us on holiday,
As the quality time he spends with us is more than enough;
He may not take us to restaurants often,
As his handmade dosas never fail to taste delicious;
He may not be fashionable and trendy,
As he never judged our fashion sense;
He need not give us valuables,
As he gave us enough value education;
He may not be by our side always,
As he taught us well to stand on our own feet and to face the society;
He may not hold power in the community,
As he earned immense respect with his kindness and ethics;
He may not teach us how to make money;
As he never forgot to teach us how to save it;
He may not work in a reputed organization,
As all he care about is his family and not money or his career growth;
He may not be expressive,
As we can witness it in his actions;

He may not be anything as he is everything for us!!
And admiring his contribution may take my whole life.

I may never express to him how much I admire him, care for him and love him;
But one fine day, I will convey him how much his happiness means to me through my success.

I believe in self-love.
I believe we shouldn’t depend on others for happiness.
But in the long run, we all need someone—
Someone who admires our efforts,
Someone who showers love and care,
Someone who stays loyal,
Someone who lifts us when we fall,
Someone to lean on—when self-care isn’t enough.

Is it too much to ask for just that?