Where every story finds its ink.
It was a bright Saturday afternoon when my sister Divya, her friends Pallavi and Nandini, and I decided to cycle to a nearby farm to bring home some fresh sugarcanes, about thirty minutes from home.
Since childhood, Divya and I had accompanied our parents to the farms, so we knew every road and turn by heart.
There was a time when Rashmi was a dream girl, full of ambition, passion, and purpose.
She had always wanted to do something great, to reach new heights in her career, to make her family proud.
She believed in love and in building a home filled with laughter and care. But somewhere along the way, life took a turn she had not imagined.
I still remember the day I found out I was pregnant for the very first time.
I had just returned from Paris after a work trip. At first, I thought the stomach aches were just a sign my period was coming. With my cycles always irregular, I didn’t pay much attention. But as days turned into weeks, a little voice inside me whispered: What if you’re pregnant?
I dedicate this story to my Grandma – my dearest Ajji – whose love, generosity, and tears at every goodbye still live in my heart. đź’«
Every Saturday afternoon felt like a festival to me. My mama—my mother’s brother—would arrive on his Suzuki bike, and I’d hop onto the front seat, grinning from ear to ear. He wasn’t just taking me for a ride; he was carrying me to the world where my heart truly belonged: my grandmother’s home.
Moving to a new city is never easy — especially for women carrying invisible storms.
Akshatha hoped for a fresh start. But after countless job rejections, her confidence began to unravel.
Meera arrived with her husband, yet the sharp sting of her in-laws’ criticism followed her like a shadow.
Sumedh and Rekha were an ambitious couple. They saw how well their NRI friends were living abroad and began looking for similar opportunities.
Sumedh worked in research, so he applied for positions outside India and received a job offer in Canada. Rekha had several years of IT experience in India and was confident she could find work too. With a sense of excitement and hope, they packed up their lives and moved to Canada. Soon after settling in, Rekha found an IT job, and they enjoyed the comfortable lifestyle they had imagined.
Meera held her newborn close. The baby’s soft breath warmed her chest.
But the room wasn’t filled with love. It was filled with voices.
Her in-laws gave endless instructions. Her husband scrolled on his phone.
And Meera’s voice was lost in the noise.
Akash and Aniruddh were twin brothers—but they were not identical in any way, not in looks, not in interests, and certainly not in behavior.
Aniruddh was brilliant with numbers. He had won so many medals in math competitions that one showcase wasn’t enough to hold them all. He was often the center of attention at school events.
Aarav was no ordinary boy. He was curious. He was also thoughtful. Every night he loved to sit by his small bedroom window. He gazed at the sky. The cool night breeze carried the scent of jasmine from the garden. The silence of the stars always filled him with wonder.
But one night was different.
The stars shimmered brighter than ever, and Aarav felt his heart race. His palms tingled, and his eyes widened as the stars whispered his name:
“Aarav… Aarav…“
Shivani and Shriya were good friends in the first grade IB Program at St. Joseph School. Shivani was soft-spoken and thoughtful-a gentle presence who valued friendship deeply. Shriya was lively and talkative, always quick with a joke and full of energy.
When Shivani finished preschool, her mom, Madhura, considered enrolling her in the ICSE syllabus, which was well-known in India. After listening to teachers talk about the newly launched IB Program, she changed her mind. The program focused on creativity, critical thinking, and cultural understanding. Inspired by their explanation, Madhura chose IB for Shivani.