Preety's panaroma

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Are you happy?

A princess, that’s what I thought I was. Not that I was raised as one or treated like one. I believed I would be okay and respected, I would get along and have fun. Like a champagne glass, it all broke. Life broke it down for me. How little control I have over my thoughts and my life. Wind, no it was a tornado that swept me far from the direction I was heading to. I am glad the route I am on will one day align with the way to my destination. The effort so many people made to get me going on this path has my heart and tons of gratitude. I had never thought I would be walking this path.Generations of prayers, mistakes I made and the choices I made compounded and took me here. To the way that looks pretty but bloody at the same time. It was not pretty. It was muddy, windy and freezing but liberating. A different world awaited and I was exposed to the unfiltered rawness than the abstract ones.Everything I believed was challenged, and my values were questioned. Joined a college but got some

Living with dying

It was June evening, perhaps it was quite chilly. I don’t really remember the weather for my mind was already preoccupied with what I recently heard in news. ' An actor who entertained us committed suicide?', the question was all my brain cells could think of for the next day.' A person who seemed normal, who had all the material possession one could wish for, who was loved and supported my millions ended up committing suicide after being depressed?' all sorts of questions had covered my senses. It was clear to me that people have a constellation of thoughts which are seldom discovered by the outer world. For me, it shows that that carefree laughter was full of hidden pains. Time gradually passed, I started questioning myself, 'what is life? what one truly wants in life? Is it material possession or fame or what? '. I finally reached a conclusion and I asked myself again 'when was the last time I became myself?'. In today's society, glamour and rum

Ocean

Blue, free, large waves, everything that represents freedom. Calm and collected simultaneously turbulent and chaotic, the ocean stands high and mighty. One day I wish I am as free as the raging ocean, we pray. We look up to the ocean and find peace and life in it within the chaos it creates. Soaring high waves, a symbol of freedom that's what we take it as. The mightiest wave still is compelled to return to the cold sand. Do we call it flying but not losing the ground or the chain that binds it? The soaring is not a product of will but circumstances. Can it reach out when it wants or to what it wants? Is it free as people think it is? What if the mighty soarings were cries of desperation and the tsunamis were yells for help? The waves struck the stone and forced it to back down. we only ever thought about how pretty it looked, the admiration it holds and the reflections it creates—the reflection of the moon on the ocean. Never judging a book by its cover really comes into play h

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