The Honey Orbit

Some nights, when the world outside is asleep and all that’s left is the sound of my own heartbeat, one question keeps circling in my head  "Am I disappointing them?" And quietly, just beneath it  "Was I ever really a good kid?" I grew up with more love than I probably deserved. Every small dream I dreamt  they turned it into reality. Even when they couldn’t fulfill their own dreams, they chose mine instead. Always. I never had to ask twice. They gave me everything  not because they had everything, but because I was everything to them. They never made me feel small for failing. They didn’t yell when I didn’t get the job. They never said “Look at others, why not you?” They said “It’s okay, next time.” And that quiet acceptance… it hurts more than any harsh word ever could. Because now, when I look at them… they don’t ask anything. They just smile gently. They say “We trust you.” But their eyes, they say what their mouths never do. There’s a kind ...

As a kid, I thought becoming a woman meant, wearing a saree without becoming tangled in it, walking like those shampoo ad girls, and carrying a purse that swung like it had its own personality. I'd steal mom's dupatta, apply lipstick like paint, and stand in front of the mirror thinking, "Yes. This is it. This is maturity." Spoiler: It was not. Becoming a woman didn’t come with theme music or a sparkly moment where the universe applauded me. No spotlight. No drama. Instead, it came like a slow software update full of lag, confusion, and random emotional crashes. Now I’m 22. Technically an adult, practically still confused. Half the time I’m giving advice like a therapist, and the other half I’m googling “is it okay if we eat only chips for lunch.” Some days I feel unstoppable, independent, bold, like main khud ki favourite hoon energy. Other days I cry because the pani puri guy didn't show up. It’s weird. My body changed before I mentally approved it. Em...

Somewhere along the way, we started drawing lines. Men on one side, women on the other. Who suffers more? Who works harder? Who’s better? But the truth is we were never meant to be opponents. We are different, But not enemies. We’re designed to complement each other emotionally, mentally, spiritually. One isn't less. One isn't more.  Let’s stop the fight. Let’s start the healing. Let’s fall back in love with each other, with understanding, with being human. This invisible war didn’t begin with just one moment. It crept in slowly through pain, through injustice, through misunderstood experiences. Yes, patriarchy has hurt women in deep, lasting ways. And yes, unrealistic expectations have crushed the spirit of men, too. But somewhere in trying to be heard, we started shouting over each other. We forgot that healing doesn’t come from blame it comes from understanding, from compassion, from unity. We are not enemies. We are complements. The feminine brings softness, emotio...