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My first attempt at suicide was when I was 14 years old. It happened because my mother told me I should just kill myself—that I was useless, a failure, and mediocre. When I writhed in pain afterward, I ended up at the hospital, only to receive another word to define me. The first one, *mediocre,* was given to me by my mother when I was nine, a word I didn’t even understand back then. And now, while I lay in the hospital, crying in agony, they called me *spoiled.*...
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Last week, my exams got over, so I decided to walk around the city. Woke up early, packed some sandwiches for breakfast, and headed to Yamuna Ghat to click a good sunrise picture. Got there around 7 AM, but the sun didn’t rise at all. No sunrise, no nothing. So, I figured, why not just keep walking?
Started from Yamuna Ghat and made my way to Chandni Chowk. Stopped for some Chole Kulche. After that, I took the metro and got off at cp from there, I walked to...
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