Hello Mr. panic button , I know… I know It’s a crazy critical time right now. Everybody has always made such a big deal about 10th ke boards and 12th ke boards that the results feel like an even bigger deal than it honestly is. But don’t you worry I am here now.

I understand that getting lower marks than expected can hurt. Especially when you worked hard and imagined a completely different result. It’s okay to feel disappointed. You don’t have to immediately become some enlightened baba going, “One sheet of paper does not decide my future.” But for now, give yourself a couple days to accept the result. You can mope, eat junk food, cry to MITSKI or Arijit depending on your music taste. But after that, we move. 

Once you have dealt with and accepted your own feelings, it is time for the next step. Talking to your parents. Yes thoda scary hai but sometimes thanks to our overactive imagination, we overthink things into something that is not even real. Maybe your parents do not think it is that big of a deal but their silence has made you think of a whole other storytime where they are on the phone with every single relative doing a full rona-dhona session about where it all went wrong.

So the second step is to stop assuming. You live in the same house as them, get up, get out of the room and go talk to your parents. And go in there with zero expectations. They might be happy, they might be sad or they might start with ‘We are not angry, just disappointed,’ which honestly is a whole other horror movie. Deal with it once you know how they actually feel. Sitting in your room manifesting a different marksheet is not going to work, trust me, we all tried.

And if they do get upset, let them. Do not argue, do not explain yourself for forty five minutes, just listen. You can have a conversation once everyone has had chai and calmed down.

Now back to you. First things first, please check your options before panicking. Or better yet, just check your options and completely cancel the panic. Cut-offs shift every year, waiting lists move, and honestly there is a whole other universe of good colleges and courses that you might not have reached yet. So do your research. You will surprise yourself.

Also if something on your marksheet genuinely does not add up, you can apply for re-checking or re-evaluation. Half of the stress is not even the marks. It is the fear that someone will go, ‘AcHaAaA you think the teacher made a mistake?’ but do not let this one slip just because you’re afraid of the chaar log kya kahenge.

And if you are thinking about entrance exams, gap years, switching streams, moving to the mountains and becoming a photographer or literally any other path or even if you are confused about what to do next, talk to someone who has actually been through it. A senior, a counsellor, a cousin, just someone real. There are way more options than the three everyone keeps talking about. We all know what three I am talking about.

One last thing and I promise I will stop. Put your phone down. Your mental health does not need to hear ‘Guys I barely studied’ from someone who solved 14 sample papers for fun.

You are going to be fine. Now go drink some water, have that conversation with your parents, and take the next small step. One thing at a time.

11:00 a.m.

The CBSE website was supposed to open at 11.

It is now 11:37.

I have refreshed the page so many times that even Google Chrome is judging me personally. At one point my laptop froze and I genuinely whispered, “Please don’t do this to me,” like it was a dying character in a movie.

The website keeps showing:
“Error.”

Thank you. Very helpful. Revolutionary information.

Mumma has walked into my room at least 19 times pretending she “just came to keep clothes.” Sure. And I’m Shah Rukh Khan.

Papa suddenly cares deeply about internet speed.

“WiFi theek chal raha hai?”
“Roll number ready rakho.”
“Laptop charge pe lagao.”

BRO I KNOW.

Meanwhile my relatives have unlocked Olympic-level timing.

“Beta result aaya???”

No aunty. The Education Ministry called and said they’re waiting for my permission first.

And why does result day make the whole house feel like India vs Pakistan finals? Everybody becomes weirdly serious. Even my younger brother was sitting quietly in the corner eating Kurkure and staring at me like I was about to get voted out of a reality show.

I tried distracting myself for some time. Opened Instagram. Biggest mistake of my life.

People had already started posting:
“Hard work pays off”
“Proud of myself”
“98.6%”

Brother ewww.

I immediately closed the app because suddenly I was convinced I had failed every subject including English, which is embarrassing because this diary entry itself is in English.

By 11:42 my body had fully betrayed me.

Hands sweaty.

Heart beating way too fast.

Leg shaking like crazy.

Stomach doing cartwheels.

I kept getting random thoughts every two seconds:
“What if I fail math?”
“What if everyone scores better than me?”
“What if my result doesn’t load and technically I remain academically unborn forever?”

And the worst part is that waiting somehow feels worse than the actual result.

Because when you don’t know what’s about to happen, your brain becomes Netflix. It starts creating dramatic storylines nobody asked for.

Suddenly I was imagining:

• becoming “the disappointing cousin”
• deleting WhatsApp forever
• avoiding eye contact with society
• running away to the mountains and starting a peaceful goat farm

All before a PDF even loaded.

Apparently this whole panic mode is called the fight-or-flight response. Your brain thinks something huge and dangerous is happening, so it releases stress chemicals like adrenaline and cortisol.

Which is honestly so dramatic because no tiger is chasing me.

It’s literally marks.

But your body doesn’t know the difference. So your heart races, your palms sweat, and your brain starts overthinking every life decision you’ve ever made since Class 3.

At around 11:51, the page finally loaded for TWO seconds before crashing again.

I almost screamed.

Mumma from outside:
“AAYA??”

ME:
“NO IT LEFT AGAIN.”

By then the entire family had gathered behind me. I could FEEL people breathing near my shoulders. Why do Indian families watch results together like it’s a public event? Please let me fail privately if needed.

Then finally.

FINALLY.

The page opened properly.

My marks appeared.

I just stared at the screen for a solid five seconds because my brain stopped processing numbers. Everything went weirdly silent for a moment.

And then?

Nothing dramatic happened.

The world didn’t end.

Nobody fainted.

The ceiling fan continued spinning peacefully.

Mumma just said, “Achha hai,” after causing me emotional damage for four hours straight.

Honestly, after all that panic, the actual result felt almost anticlimactic.

But those few minutes before checking it?

Actually terrifying.

I think I aged emotionally by at least 12 years before noon.

You know that feeling when you’ve been “studying” since 9 a.m., your back is in pain, your water bottle is empty…AGAIN, your highlighters are fighting for their lives… and yet by 9 p.m. you feel like you’ve achieved absolutely nothing?

Yeah. That.

From the outside, I look productive. I’m at my desk. I’ve got sticky notes. I’ve even made a timetable that looks like it belongs on Pinterest. If productivity had a photoshoot, I’d be shortlisted.

But internally? It’s giving “buffering…” I read one page and immediately think, “What if this exact line comes for 5 marks and I forget it?” I solve five math questions and instead of feeling proud, I fixate on the two I got wrong. I take a 15-minute break and my brain goes, “Wah. Aise aenge marks?” It’s not that I’m not studying. I am. I’m just also overthinking. Constantly.

The other day I studied biology for three hours. THREE. And at the end of it, I genuinely couldn’t tell if I had learned anything or just stared at a wall all day. I felt guilty, frustrated, and slightly betrayed by my own brain.

So I called my friend Rhea.

I didn’t plan to have a serious talk. I just wanted something that wasn’t my thoughts screaming “boards boards boards.” But three minutes in, I blurted out, “Do you ever feel like you study all day and still feel like you’ve done nothing?”

She didn’t even hesitate. “Bro. Every day.” And honestly that “bro” healed something in me.

She said she spends half her time imagining the exam hall instead of focusing on the chapter. I admitted that I measure productivity by how long I sit, not by what I understand. If I sit for eight hours, I think I should feel accomplished. So when I don’t, I assume something is wrong…with ME!

At one point she said, “Okay, close your book. Tell me what you remember.” I panicked. “I don’t remember anything.” “Just try.”

And when I forced myself to talk, I actually remembered stuff. Not word-for-word definitions. But concepts. Examples. Connections. Things had gone in. They were just hiding under layers of stress.

That’s when I realised something: I’m not studying peacefully. I’m stress-studying. I keep re-reading because I don’t trust myself. I don’t move ahead because “what if I forget?” I don’t celebrate small progress because it doesn’t look dramatic enough.

We decided to try something basic. Study in shorter bursts. Take actual breaks without feeling like we should be sent to jail for it. And after every session, explain the topic out loud like we’re teaching it to someone else.

The next day, I tried it.

Was I suddenly a topper? No. Did I still get distracted by my phone? Obviously. But at the end of the day, instead of thinking “I did nothing,” I wrote down three things I had actually done.

1. Finished one chemistry chapter.
2. Solved 12 math problems (even if 4 were wrong).
3. Finally understood that one physics concept that SHOULD BE IN JAIL.

Seeing it written down felt different. Not dramatic. Not filmy. Just… real.

I think exam burnout is weird because it doesn’t always look like crying over books. Sometimes it’s just sitting there all day and feeling like an NPC in your own academic storyline. You’re present, but not convinced you’re progressing.

Talking to Rhea didn’t magically fix my life. I still have days where I spiral. I still compare myself to that one friend who claims they’re on their fourth revision (respectfully, I don’t trust them).

But now, when my brain says, “You did nothing today,” I pause.

Did I actually do nothing?

Or did I just not give myself credit?

Sometimes the answer is that I need to focus better. And sometimes the answer is that I’m just tired and scared and putting too much pressure on myself.

Either way, I’m learning this slowly: effort doesn’t always feel epic. Sometimes it feels messy. Sometimes it feels mid. But it still counts.

And if you’re sitting at your desk right now feeling the same way, just know you’re not the only one. We’re all out here trying. Thoda sa overwhelmed, thoda sa dramatic, but still trying.

And honestly? That’s not nothing.

Do you have anything on your mind? Share with us in the comment box below. Remember not to put any personal information in the comment box.

Heyyy. Very valid question. Because let’s be honest you’re not the only one confused about this one. Gaslighting is one of those words that shows up everywhere. Reels, rants, comment sections, random conversations in school. Everyone uses it very confidently but  … but the moment you ask, “Okay, but what does it actually mean?” suddenly everyone needs water, WiFi, and time to think.

So let’s talk about it properly. 

What gaslighting actually means

Gaslighting is when someone makes you doubt your own thoughts, feelings, or memory.

And no, it’s not dramatic. There’s no big fight, no dhum tana nana na in the background, no moment where you dramatically realise the truth while staring out of a window.

It’s more like this. You’re sure about how something felt. Then five minutes later you’re thinking, “Wait… am I being dramatic?” even though nothing actually changed.

You didn’t imagine it. Your brain is just being messed with.

Let’s say you tell a friend, “I felt really bad when you ignored me all day.”

They reply, “What are you talking about? I didn’t ignore you.”

Now you’re mentally opening WhatsApp, Instagram, your memory, your soul. Did they actually ignore you or did you just overreact? Did they reply late or did you check too fast?

If this happens once, fine. If this becomes a pattern, welcome to overthinking season.

Why gaslighting is about control

Gaslighting is not just lying or remembering things differently. It’s about always needing to be right.

One person becomes the final authority on reality. The other starts collecting screenshots like evidence, over explaining feelings, and practising conversations in the shower that may never even happen.

That’s not communication. That’s emotional chess, and you didn’t even agree to play. Gaslighting does not only happen in romantic relationships.

It can happen in friendships when someone says something rude and later says, “I was joking, why are you being dramatic?” It can happen in friend groups where your reaction gets more attention than what actually caused it. It can even happen at home when your feelings are dismissed as unnecessary drama.

Basically, if the sentence starts with “Why are you reacting like this?” instead of “Why did I do that?” take note.

Common gaslighting lines you might recognise

These phrases deserve their own playlist because they show up so often.

“You’re overreacting.”
“That never happened.”
“You’re too sensitive.”
“Why do you make everything such a big deal?”

Hearing these once in a while is normal. Hearing them every single time you speak up is not.

How gaslighting usually makes you feel

Gaslighting often leaves you feeling confused and weirdly guilty. You might apologise even when you’re not sure what you’re apologising for.

You may stop bringing things up because explaining yourself feels tiring. Staying quiet starts to feel easier, even though it shouldn’t.

If silence feels safer than talking, something is off.

Gaslighting versus normal disagreements

Disagreements are normal. Different opinions are normal.

In a healthy disagreement, someone might say, “I don’t see it that way, but I get why you felt bad.” In gaslighting, the response sounds more like, “Why are you like this?”

One response listens. The other shuts things down.

If someone keeps making you doubt your memory, your reactions, or your feelings, pause and notice it. You’re not “too much.” You’re just responding to something real.

You deserve relationships where you can talk without feeling like you need screenshots, witnesses, or a full presentation to be taken seriously.

Always.

Got a question or a doubt? Then come Ask Disha! The coolest Trusted Adult in India, Disha, will answer all your queries on Growing Up! Post them in the comments box below or send them to our Insta inbox! Disha will respond to them in upcoming columns. Please remember not to put out any personal information. 

OMG Tanisha. I can relate to you! I mean there was a time when people asked me about my boyfriend and I told them, bro, i want to focus on my studies and so I am single and people reacted like you just revealed a secret plot twist? “Really? But how?” “Are you sure?”
“Koi toh hoga.” As if a boyfriend is like Aadhaar – everyone must have one. 

But don’t worry, you Disha baba is here! I will tell you exactly what to do in such situations and how to handle them. But first off, let’s get one thing clear – not having a boyfriend or girlfriend is completely okay. You are NOT boring or weird. And no, you are not “missing out on life”. Okay. Deep breath taken. Now let’s talk.

The same old script

One major reason for this reaction is society’s obsession with relationships. Movies, reels, cousins, even random aunties have taught us that if you’re not dating, your life must be… empty. Tragic. Background music missing. 

Life is shown as a straight path where romance is a compulsory milestone. 

So when someone is happily single, people panic. System error. Page not found. Not because being single is wrong, but because it challenges what they have been taught is normal.

What they hear vs what you mean

People confuse being single with being lonely. Single is a status. Lonely is a feeling. They are not twins. At best, they’re distant cousins.

You can be single and focused on yourself, busy building your life, enjoying friendships, and liking your own company. 

And plot twist: People in relationships can be lonely too. Yes. Even with matching WhatsApp wallpapers.

Among teens, comfort with being alone is often misunderstood. Think of the person who always needs to be talking to someone, crushing on someone, or texting someone. Silence makes them uncomfortable. 

Now think of someone who is okay spending time alone, listening to music, studying, or just existing peacefully. 

The first person might assume the second is lonely, when actually they are simply comfortable with themselves. Unfortunately, self-comfort is rarely celebrated, so it gets treated as a problem.

Label lagao, please

Ever notice how some people can’t be alone for five minutes? They need someone to text. Someone to crush on. Someone to update.

Silence scares them. Now imagine someone who is okay sitting alone, studying, listening to music, or just existing without constant notifications.

Guess who gets labelled “sad”? Yep. The peaceful one. Because being comfortable with yourself is still very underrated.

People love labels. Single. Taken. Complicated. It helps them relax. When you don’t fit neatly into a box, they don’t know what to do with you. So instead of questioning the system, they question you.

But life isn’t a Google Form you must fill correctly. There is no relationship syllabus.Some people date early. Some people focus on goals. Some people don’t want the headache right now. Some people just… don’t want one. All normal.

The idea that everyone must reach the “relationship chapter” at the same time is completely made up.

Why they low-key can’t handle you

Here’s the real reason. When you’re single and fine with it, it makes others uncomfortable. It quietly asks a dangerous question: “What if happiness doesn’t need a relationship?” Instead of thinking about that, people joke, tease, or say, “You’ll change your mind.” Much easier.

Final reality check

Being single is not weird. It’s not a waiting room. It’s not a defect. It’s just a phase of life. Or a choice. Or both. You don’t owe anyone a boyfriend. You don’t owe anyone an explanation.
And you definitely don’t owe society a love story at 16. You’re fine. The system is just dramatic.

Got a question or a doubt? Then come Ask Disha! The coolest Trusted Adult in India, Disha, will answer all your queries on Growing Up! Post them in the comments box below or send them to our Insta inbox! Disha will respond to them in upcoming columns. Please remember not to put out any personal information. 

Whenever someone says “year-end reflection,” most teens imagine sitting with a notebook, staring into space, and suddenly remembering every awkward thing they did since January. Some imagine a teacher saying, “Write five goals for the new year,” and instantly feel the urge to sleep. Others picture a motivational video telling them to wake up at 5 am, drink green juice, and become a new person on 1st January.

This article is not going in any of those directions.

Reflection does not have to feel like homework or emotional pressure. It can actually be gentle and even slightly funny. Think of it like a small puzzle where you are not trying to solve your entire life. You are only picking a few pieces and noticing how they fit into your year.

Here is a calm, step-by-step, overthinker friendly guide to looking back at your year before 2026 arrives.

Step 1: Small wins only rule

Most people begin reflecting by thinking of everything they did not do. Did not top the class. Did not keep up with morning workouts. Did not stop procrastinating. Did not magically become less awkward in front of a crush.

Here, we ignore all of that. We focus only on tiny wins that actually happened.

Maybe you finally cleaned your school bag after months of pretending it was fine. Maybe you survived a group project without fighting with the bossy classmate. Maybe you remembered to drink water on your own. Maybe you learned how to do something small that used to scare you. These small wins are important because they show real growth, not social media style achievements.

Reflection becomes more enjoyable when the goal is simply to notice the little things that made your year feel brighter.

Step 2: The three moments of choice

You do not need to choose your best memories or your most productive ones. Just three moments that stayed in your mind.

Maybe you laughed so hard with a friend that your stomach hurt. Maybe you cried but felt supported afterward. Maybe you ate something so spicy that you questioned every life decision. Maybe someone said something kind that you still think about.

These small pieces of the year tell a much more honest story than big achievements. They remind you that your year was full of feelings, experiences, and moments that made you a little more you.

Step 3: The one thing you learned by accident

Life teaches you things even when you are not trying to learn. These lessons do not need to sound smart or deep.

It could be something as simple as realising that sleeping at 2 am every day is not a personality trait. Or that you do not need to reply to every message instantly. Or that some friendships feel lighter when you stop trying so hard. Or that getting a dramatic haircut during exams is never a good idea.

Even one simple lesson can make your year feel meaningful.

Step 4: Something that felt heavy 

Every year has something that feels heavy. Maybe it was exam pressure. Maybe it was a friendship drama. Maybe it was stress at home. Maybe it was loneliness. Maybe it was just the feeling of being overwhelmed for no clear reason.

Naming the heavy things is not about reliving them or trying to solve them. It simply helps you recognise what used up your energy. Once you see it clearly, you walk into the new year with slightly more understanding of yourself.

There is nothing to fix here. Only something to gently notice.

Step 5: Something you want more of

This is not a goals list. This is not a resolutions list. This is not a punishment list for everything you failed to do.

This is one quiet question. What do I want more of next year

Maybe more sleep. Maybe more laughter. Maybe more calm mornings. Maybe more confidence in speaking up. Maybe more time with people who make you feel like yourself. Maybe more kindness toward your own mistakes.

Choosing what you want more of is a softer and kinder way to guide your next year.

The grand finale

Some years are for thriving. Some years are for learning. Some years are for surviving. All three deserve recognition.

School, friendships, exams, crushes, moods, expectations, disappointments, and unexpected joys all happened in one year. And somehow you moved through all of it. That is not a small thing. That is something to celebrate quietly and honestly.

Reflection is not about being perfect. It is not about proving anything. It is simply about noticing your life. You do not need to enter 2026 as a completely new person. You can step into it as the same person you already are but with a little more understanding, a little more softness, and a little more space to grow at your own pace.

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Tara. She wasn’t trapped in a spooky castle or cursed by a witch. Nope. Her tower was more modern and, honestly, way sneakier: it was her own home, ruled by ultra-strict parents who had rules for literally everything.

No phone after 9 PM. No hanging out with friends on weekdays. No loud music. No late-night snacks. Basically, no fun without parental Wi-Fi approval. Tara felt like Rapunzel stuck in a tower… except her tower had Wi-Fi, and instead of a magical braid, she had… homework and guilt.

At first, Tara thought she could outsmart it. She imagined a Tangled-level rescue: a friend, a sibling, maybe even a mysterious stranger on a motorbike (okay, Flynn Rider) who’d swoop in, hand her a starbucks with her name on it, and tell her, “Let’s goo.”

Reality check: Flynn Rider never showed up. And swinging out the window on a braid? Not an option. Her attempts to sneak out always ended in her parents catching her mid-text or mid-sneak snack raid. Tara was officially grounded, again.

Even her hobbies started betraying her. Painting? Meh. Guitar? More like “ugh, why bother.” Texting friends? Exhausting. TikTok scrolling? Somehow more stressful than her algebra homework. And the real plot twist? Her brain had joined the parental team. “You’re lazy.” “Why can’t you be like your cousin, Aisha, who’s running a YouTube channel AND learning French?”

Then one evening, Tara had a moment. She grabbed her notebook,yes, an actual notebook, not Notes on her phone and started scribbling: the frustration, the boredom, the feeling that she was trapped in a real-life TikTok reel called “Teen Trapped at Home: Day 437.”

She realized the tower wasn’t just her parents’ rules, it was also her own expectations. She’d been comparing herself to everyone online: cousins, friends, strangers making viral videos. And honestly? She was exhausted.

And then came her Rapunzel glow-up moment. She didn’t need a dramatic escape. She needed a strategy:

• Asking to stay out a little longer without sending a 50-message group chat to plead.
• Negotiating music time in her room without blasting it so loud it triggered the parental alarm system.
• Scheduling short “freedom breaks” to paint, play guitar, prank her brother, or binge-watch a show she actually likes (yes, even reality TV counts).

Suddenly, the tower didn’t feel like a trap. Tara realized walls aren’t always prison walls—they can be practice spaces for negotiation, patience, and tiny rebellions that don’t get you grounded for life.

And slowly, things changed. She didn’t magically become the queen of independence overnight. Some days she still stared at the ceiling, thinking, “Why am I like this?” But now she had tricks up her sleeve, moments to laugh, and a legit sense of control.

The twist? Tara didn’t need Flynn Rider, a magical braid, or some epic escape. She realized the real rescue was her own courage, her creativity, and a little bit of teen-level strategy. The tower hadn’t disappeared but she had figured out how to live in it without losing herself.

Moral of the story: sometimes the hero isn’t the mysterious stranger or the viral trend. Sometimes it’s just you… learning how to wiggle, sneak, negotiate, and laugh your way out of a TikTok-length tower moment.

The End

Last year on Diwali, the loudest thing in my house wasn’t the crackers outside, it was my cousin Rohan screaming because someone cheated in cards. My nani was yelling from the kitchen, “Do NOT enter the house with your slippers on!” My uncle was showing off his “scientific technique” to light rockets safely and then promptly burning his eyebrows.

It was chaos. It was crazy. It was home.

But this year? It’s different.

No cars lining up outside. No cousins fighting for the good mattress. No smell of burnt chaklis or over-fried gulab jamuns. Just… a quiet house with fairy lights trying their best to glow like nothing’s wrong.

My phone wasn’t exploding with “Aaj ka plan kya hai?” messages. Instead, it was full of “Sorry yaar, can’t come this time.”

Rohan shifted to Bangalore for college. My bua’s family has some “issues” going on, so they’re skipping this year. And my little brother, who once danced like a malfunctioning robot to every Diwali song, now had only one plan – a gaming tournament at 8PM. Do Not Disturb.

I tried to distract myself. I helped mom clean, I hung the lantern outside, I even arranged diyas like Instagram aesthetic reels… but midway through, I just stopped. I stood on the balcony yesterday, fairy lights shining around me, and for the first time ever… It didn’t feel like Diwali.

Was it just me? Was I being dramatic? Do festivals stop feeling festive when we grow up? Or was this what everyone secretly felt but never admitted?

The conversation

I didn’t say anything to anyone, but my mom noticed. Moms have that superpower. 

She walked in with a box of diyas and paused. “Tu theek hai na?” 

I tried to fake it. “Yeah yeah, just tired.”

She raised an eyebrow. Moms can sniff lies better than dogs sniff biscuits.

After a moment, I sighed. “It just… doesn’t feel like Diwali. I thought festivals were supposed to be fun. But this time I’m just… not feeling it.”

She didn’t give me a lecture. She didn’t say “Be grateful! At least we’re together!” No emotional blackmail. Instead, she sat beside me and quietly said: “You know, when I was your age, I felt exactly like this.”

That surprised me. Moms feeling like us? Rare content.

She continued, “One year, everyone got busy. No relatives came. The house was clean, food was cooked, lights were on… but my heart felt switched off. For a moment I thought,  maybe Diwali is only fun when you’re small.”

I looked at her. “So what did you do?”

She smiled slightly. “I cried a little. Then I got angry. Then I got up… and decided if the old Diwali wasn’t coming back, I’d make a new one. I invited the neighbours for tea, played music loudly, made laddoos with Papa. Guess what? It was different. But it was still Diwali.”

It wasn’t easy but I decided to take charge of Diwali myself. 

I picked up my phone and texted my cousins:

“9PM. Video call. Ludo or Truth-or-Dare. Don’t be boring.”

Rohan sent five skull emojis and a “Loser will do a Diwali dance challenge.” Accepted.

I barged into my brother’s room and declared, “We’re making a new Diwali playlist. EDM meets Aarti version.” He rolled his eyes but secretly smirked.

Then I sat outside and started making a rangoli, not perfectly, not beautifully. Just honestly.

And you know what?

The silence didn’t go away. But it didn’t feel lonely anymore.

If you’re feeling this too…

Maybe your Diwali looks different this year.
Maybe fewer people. Maybe someone is missing. Maybe you are in a new place, trying to smile when your heart isn’t fully there.

It’s okay.

Festivals don’t stop being special just because they’ve changed. Sometimes… they’re just waiting for us to grow into a new version of them.

So if this Diwali feels different. Light your diyas anyway. Call your people anyway. Laugh even if it’s quieter.

Because Diwali isn’t only about who’s around you.

It’s also about the light you decide to keep inside you.

Happy Yours-Your-Way Diwali.

Once upon a time, there was a princess who wasn’t cursed by a spinning wheel. No dark fairy came to put her into an endless sleep.

And yet… she found herself lying in bed all day, staring at her phone, scrolling through endless reels she didn’t even enjoy.

The people of the kingdom whispered among themselves.
“She’s become lazy.”
“She’s wasting her life away.”
“Look at the other princes and princesses. They’re achieving so much. Why can’t she?”

The princess heard their whispers, and worse, she heard them inside her own head too. Every morning she promised herself: “Today will be different. Today I’ll study, meet my friends, fix my hair like I used to.” But when the moment came, her body felt too heavy to move. Even her thoughts seemed stuck in a fog.

Her favorite movie no longer made her laugh. Her best friends’ texts, once the highlight of her day, felt like work she couldn’t handle. Even brushing her hair, which she had always taken pride in, felt like too much effort.

And the cruelest part of the spell? It wasn’t just the exhaustion, it was the guilt.

When she rested, a voice whispered: “You’re lazy. You’re failing. Everyone else is doing fine, why can’t you?”
When she scrolled, another sneered: “Even strangers on the internet are more productive than you.”

The kingdom thought she was simply sleeping. But the truth was far from it. She wasn’t asleep. She was burnt out.

One evening, tired of the guilt, the princess did something unusual. She didn’t wait for a prince or anyone else to rescue her. Instead, she picked up a journal. She began writing everything she had been feeling. The emptiness, the fatigue, the way even saying yes to a walk felt impossible.

She admitted that she wasn’t just avoiding homework or chores. She was avoiding everything, her friends, her favorite hobbies, even herself.

And as her pen scratched the pages, a realization struck her. This wasn’t laziness. This was something different. Something deeper.

She remembered a line she had once read:

• Laziness = not wanting to do something.
• Burnout = wanting to do it, but feeling like you just can’t.

Suddenly, it all made sense. She wasn’t weak. She wasn’t careless. She was exhausted.

Her mind had been running a marathon every day, full of worries about her marks, her future, her image in the kingdom, her comparisons with others. Even her “breaks” weren’t really breaks, just endless scrolling that left her feeling more drained.

She realized she wasn’t cursed by a fairy. She was trapped by her own constant pressure, her own overthinking. And that kind of spell doesn’t break with a kiss.

So, no, Sleeping Beauty didn’t need a prince to wake her up.
She needed rest. She needed to take tiny steps, like breaking down a giant mountain into small pebbles. She needed real breaks. Cycling in the fresh air, playing with her dog, annoying her brother, or reading a book for fun. She needed kindness towards herself when she couldn’t keep up.

And slowly, day by day, the spell began to lift.

She wasn’t magically fixed. Some days she still lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if she was falling behind. But now she didn’t drown in guilt for it. She allowed herself to pause. She reminded herself that healing wasn’t the same as failing.

And maybe that’s the real moral of the story:
Sleeping Beauty wasn’t lazy. She was burnt out.

And what she needed wasn’t a prince, but patience, rest, and the courage to ask for help.

The End

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Honestly, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve said this out loud or screamed it inside my head. It usually happens after yet another conversation with my parents that ends in a lecture, a misunderstanding, or sometimes just silence. Every time I try to talk to them about what I’m feeling, it somehow turns into something else. One moment I’m just saying I’m tired, and the next they’re telling me I’m lazy or wasting time. The conversation derails, and the real reason I started talking just… vanishes.

After a while, I started avoiding these conversations altogether. Not because I didn’t want to talk, but because I wanted to avoid the drama that followed. But here’s the thing, as teenagers, we do need to talk to our parents. We need support, we need someone to tell us that it’s okay to be confused or tired or unsure. We need their affirmations. But whenever we try, something goes wrong. It’s like our words and their meanings get lost in translation.

When I say, “I’m tired,” I don’t mean I’m physically lazy. I mean I’m mentally exhausted, with school, friends, choices, expectations, and sometimes even with myself. When I ask for privacy or space, I’m not hiding anything; I just need time to be alone with my thoughts. But it somehow becomes a question of trust. And avoiding them doesn’t help either. It leaves me with guilt. Like I’m letting them down. Like they’re angry at me. And slowly, the frustration and guilt mix together and make me feel like I’m not enough. Like I’ll never be good enough in their eyes.

But deep down, I know they aren’t wrong either.

They grew up in a completely different world. One without constant pings from social media, fewer choices to make, and fewer people to compare themselves to. They had struggles too, just of a different kind. Maybe that’s why it’s hard for them to understand what it’s like to be us, trying to find ourselves in a world that keeps changing every second. They didn’t have to make five life decisions by the age of 17 or live under the constant pressure to ‘do more’ and ‘be more.’

Sometimes I feel like they want to help, they just don’t know how. And we need help too, but not in the way they’re used to giving it. So when they check our phones or tell us we’re on the wrong track, it feels like an attack. And we start saying “It’s alright” even when it isn’t, just to end the conversation.

And the gap gets wider.

But I don’t think it has to stay this way forever. We’re not against each other — we just see things differently. Same world, just looking at it from different sides. 

And maybe the only way to come closer is to start talking again. Like really talking. Not arguing. Not saying “you don’t get me.” Just calmly explaining what’s on our mind. And actually listening too (even if it’s kinda hard). We can also try saying things in a way they’ll understand like writing it down, talking when things are chill, or even sending them a meme or video that can sometimes explain what we feel better than we can.

It won’t be perfect. It won’t be instant. But it’s a start.
Because I know, even if they see south and I see north, we’re still looking at the same sky.

And that has to count for something.

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