School
“Dreams just need courage
Summary She was born in a forgotten corner of India, raised in poverty, told that her place was the kitchen, and marriage was her only destiny. But instead of giving up, she picked up a pen and started writing her way out. This is not a story of comfort. This is a story of courage. A rural Indian girl’s voice, reaching across oceans, to be heard by those who still believe in hope. “She was born in a forgotten corner of India, raised in poverty, told that her place was the kitchen, and marriage was her only destiny. But instead of giving up, she picked up a pen — and started writing her way out. This is not a story of comfort. This is a story of courage. A rural Indian girl’s voice, reaching across oceans, to be heard by those who still believe in hope.” About the Writer (Emotional & Honest) Riya Mandal is not your typical writer. She doesn’t own a laptop. Her phone has just 3GB RAM and crashes if too many tabs are open. She doesn’t write from a cozy coffee shop or an air-conditioned room. She writes from a tiny house in a rural Indian village — where internet is slow, electricity cuts are frequent, and expectations from girls are even lower than the monthly income. Her family earns less than $50 a month. She belongs to the SC category — a label that often comes with social hurdles in India. Her dream is not luxury or fame — just the right to study, to grow, to “choose”her life. Riya has fought against early marriage pressure, financial crisis, and even the mindset of “what can a girl do?” She has no fancy degrees — yet. But she has something far rarer: “grit, fire, and truth in her voice.” When most girls in her situation would give up, she chose to write on platforms like Vocal Media and Medium. Not for money — but for hope. For one reader somewhere in the world who might pause, read her story, and say: “She matters. Her dreams matter.” Every word she writes is a quiet rebellion. Every story is a seed of revolution. She’s not just telling her story — she’s telling the story of millions of unheard voices like hers. If you’ve ever felt powerless, voiceless, or invisible — read Riya. Because in her struggle, you’ll find your strength. When I did not run after my dreams, how can you people do it when I neither have food to eat nor good clothes to wear but still I am doing everything I can to achieve my dreams. Even the phone from which I am writing has been given to me by the government. Is your condition worse than mine? If you have problem with a girl like me then please help me and this story is mine only; I started writing because I was in dire need of money. I did not even have money for my college fees. It was my dream to become an advocate but I did not have the money to raise it. But I will not give up and will keep fighting, no matter how big the problem comes, I will not step back. Will you support me? I am in dire need of help right now. Please donate some money or share this article as much as you can. You might think that I am doing all this for publicity but it is not like that. I actually need financial aid. Otherwise my dreams will remain just dreams and I will be made a servant of someone's house after getting married. Please share like and comment.
By Riya mandal2 years ago in Confessions
CHILDHOOD . Content Warning.
Once upon a time, in a small village surrounded by tall trees and colorful flowers, there lived a young boy named Leo. Leo was full of curiosity, always eager to explore the world around him. He loved the sound of birds singing in the morning, the feel of soft grass under his bare feet, and the warmth of the sun on his face. He lived in a cozy little cottage with his family, and though they didn't have much, their home was always filled with laughter and love.
By proffessor hafeez2 years ago in Confessions
The Sound of Her Silence
The first time I saw Ayesha, she did not say a word. It was a rainy afternoon. I had escaped to a half-occupied bookstore between two rusted shopfronts on a quiet street in Dhaka. I wasn't looking for anything particular—just peace. The doorbell rang softly as I entered, and there she was.
By Bari Mir Rahamatul2 years ago in Confessions
The Unspoken Words
There are moments in life when life turns around, and yet you don't realize it until later. That was one of them. It started when I first saw her at the park. The weather was mild, the kind of day that enticed you to sit in the sun and watch the world go by. I had been going to that park daily for a month, trying to find peace, trying to escape the insanity that had consumed my life. I wasn't looking for anything or anyone, then she appeared.
By Bari Mir Rahamatul2 years ago in Confessions
The Art of Living Lightly: A Symphony of Small Things
I. Grand Theatre of the Everyday Life My dear reader, the Grand Theatre of the Everyday Life is not a dreadful affair to be suffered through, nor a burdensome ledger of duties to be tallied and settled. It is a theatre — no, a carnival — splendid and tragic, absurd and luminous, unfolding in your living room, at bus stops, in the slicing of apples and the tying of shoelaces. We are all actors, unwitting but dazzling, wearing bathrobes instead of cloaks, reciting soliloquies to our pets, and dreaming revolution between morning coffee and emails. What folly to think only philosophers wear long beards and live in ivory towers! Philosophy is not reserved for musty books and ponderous monks. It is found in the boiled egg, in a late train, in the laughter shared with a stranger. To live well is to philosophize well, not with the tongue, but with the soul. II. Of Toast and Transcendence You see, the way one butters toast — hurriedly, carelessly, or with reverence — speaks volumes of one’s inner life. Some rush through breakfast as though chased by time itself. Others arrange their morning rituals as priests might prepare for sacred rites. Why not pause a moment and ask: What if the divine hid in marmalade jars? What if the answer to happiness lies not in a grand purpose but in the precision of pouring tea without spilling a drop? Oscar Wilde once wrote, “To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.” And I say to you — dare to live, even in the smallest things. The universe may be large, but the joy of life often fits in a teacup. III. The Philosophy of the Shoe Rack Let us speak of shoes — those silent companions of our daily quests. The child’s muddy sneaker, the heel of the hurried woman, the slipper of the retired gentleman. Each pair carries a thousand steps, a thousand unspoken philosophies. Some walk with purpose, eyes on the horizon. Others shuffle, distracted, their feet lost in the fog of thought. Do you walk to arrive, or do you walk to wander? The humble shoe rack, chaotic or orderly, reveals the chaos or order of the mind. Are you someone who lines up your thoughts or lets them tumble like sandals on a summer evening? Philosophy isn’t a question of what you believe — it’s how you walk through your hallway. IV. Mirrors and the Myths of the Self The mirror is a philosopher’s favorite adversary. It shows us what we are, but never what we feel. It reflects a face, but not the poems behind it. Daily life, too, gives us mirrors — in moments of anger, love, embarrassment, and boredom. What do you see? We wake up each morning and wear not only clothes but identities. The serious father. The witty student. The tired employee. But who are we beneath the layers? Wilde might say, “Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.” But even being yourself is an act of interpretation. Do not trust mirrors too much. They can only show you what others might see. The soul, my friend, is best glimpsed in laughter, silence, and kindness to cats. V. The Poetry of Doing the Dishes Ah, the dishes — philosophers' enemies and poets’ inspiration. There is something rebelliously beautiful about scrubbing a pan while thinking of mortality. Soap suds and existential dread go hand in hand. But here’s the secret: in every mundane chore, the universe is humming. To clean is to create order. To fold clothes is to shape the chaos of existence into neat little stacks. Even gods would envy the power of homemakers who build worlds anew every morning with mops and music. Why must the meaning of life be grand? What if it is simply to do things beautifully? VI. Arguments with the Clock The clock ticks with the arrogance of a dictator. It tells us when to rise, when to eat, when to sleep. But time, in truth, is far more elastic. A single second of love can stretch into eternity. A year of monotony may vanish like mist. We should not live by clocks, but by wonder. Children know this well. Give them five minutes with a butterfly and they will remember it for life. Adults, meanwhile, spend decades chasing deadlines they cannot even remember. Time should be measured not in hours but in heartbeats — in those rare, full-moon moments when life feels too vast to name. VII. Conversations with Your Shadow At night, when the world grows quiet and your phone has nothing left to show you, there comes a moment — soft, strange, like the scent of forgotten flowers — where your shadow leans in to speak. “What do you believe in?” it might ask. “Whose voice do you hear when you are alone?” The truest philosophy begins not in books but in those silent self-dialogues — when you ask yourself why you are here, and what you truly fear. Be brave enough to answer. Be bold enough to change. VIII. On Loving Without Reason To love someone — a person, a plant, a poem — without needing a reason is the purest philosophy. Love makes no sense, and that is its glory. It’s the great rebellion against utility and logic. A child’s drawing, a grandmother’s recipe, a stray dog following you home — these are not efficient things, but they are essential. Oscar Wilde said, “The mystery of love is greater than the mystery of death.” And perhaps that’s all we need to know. In daily life, love wears quiet clothes. It brews tea. It checks if you’ve eaten. It holds the umbrella slightly more over your side than its own. IX. Living Lightly, Dying Fully The ultimate philosophy is not about avoiding death, but about not dying while you live. To live lightly does not mean carelessly — it means joyfully. It means forgiving swiftly, laughing deeply, and not waiting for permission to dance in your kitchen. Philosophy is not meant to weigh us down with questions, but to lift us up with meaning. Ask the questions — yes. But also water your plants. Write letters. Sing badly. Life is brief, but it need not be small. X. A Final Whisper So let this be your creed: Find magic in mornings. Hear poetry in traffic. Let your socks be philosophical. Speak kindly to pigeons. Wear your scars as medals. And never, ever apologize for feeling too much. For in the grand book of the universe, it is not the philosopher who has read the most who is wise — it is the one who has noticed the softness of the world, and chosen to be soft in return. And that, dear reader, is the art of living lightly.
By Reshal Manzoor 2 years ago in Confessions
Aren't Women More Than Just Wives in Punjabi Stories?
When Punjab is remembered, either pictures of gigantic, hulking men willing to fight for their motherland or the popular love stories come to our imagination. Punjabi literature can submerge both extremes of love and war it most delicately. While the literature of the wars is resistance against invaders or powers, love is also highly militant.
By Hridya Sharma2 years ago in Confessions
Shadows of the Heart
Chapter 1: The Encounter The city of Lumino was a whirlwind of neon lights and shadows. Underneath its vibrant surface lay a world of secrets, where love could bloom in the most unexpected places. Amongst the bustling streets was a quaint little café called “Fable,” famous for its eccentric décor and the unique personalities it attracted.
By MOHAMMED NAZIM HOSSAIN2 years ago in Confessions
What It's Like Having Dyscalculia
In elementary school, when we started learning our times tables is about when we started to notice that math was going to be an issue for me. I could not remember any of my times tables. I sat there and looked at the flashcards for HOURS, and still, I retained none of it. My parents were frustrated, it was the mid 1990s, and I was a girl with undiagnosed autism. There was NO WAY I was getting the help I needed then, because a lot wasn't known about dyscalculia, and it's an extremely rare thing. Dyslexia is far more common. Sometimes I wonder why I couldn't have just gotten a little dyslexia instead, you know? But I know people with that too, and I wouldn't want to struggle that way either. Anyway, one of the most horrifying and traumatic experiences I can tell you about me and math is that first hurdle I had to jump through, with times tables.
By Slgtlyscatt3red2 years ago in Confessions
Stranger in the Moonlight
Chapter 1: The Encounter The small coastal town of Seabreeze had always been serene, a place where time seemed to stand still. The calming sounds of the waves crashing on the shore and the soft rustle of palm trees swayed by the gentle breeze created an atmosphere that was perfect for reflection and romance. It was here that Mark Thompson, a handsome yet troubled man in his thirties, found himself after a string of failed relationships and personal hardships that had left scars on his heart.
By MOHAMMED NAZIM HOSSAIN2 years ago in Confessions
Can Neoliberalism & Feminism Intertwine?
You may have seen neoliberal feminism at work in the business world if you hadn't previously. You've heard, maybe, something about "defeating stereotypes" or "feminine leadership" being strategies for making women achieve their "unfulfilled potential." Women need to empower themselves most of all, as claimed by supporters of the movement. Differences are believed to stem from individual, and not institutional, factors. To better assist you with an understanding of the promises made by neoliberal feminism. Being a feminist has turned into a source of pride and cultural capital for film and music stars. The word has become ubiquitous on social media and the mainstream media.
By Hridya Sharma2 years ago in Confessions
