You are the cuffs of my hands
You are the shackles of my feet
You are the locked doors to my freedom
You are the noise to my peace
You are the darkness to my light
You are the tears of my eyes
You are the eclipse of my life
You are the black to my white
Attracted to the stars
I am firefly,
I am scared to touch it
I wont lie,
My heart is pumping
As i reach the high,
Just one touch
And i m ready to die…..
If only i could stop time
And go back in past
Correct my mistakes
And begin from the start….
Then there would be no tears
N no regrets in the heart
If only I get a chance
To choose my destiny
I would choose the best
I could ever be
Then when i’ll close my eyes
I’ll have beautiful memories
I often find myself worrying about the rising cases of depression among Millennials. After much reflection, I’ve come to a painful conclusion: the generation before us never truly understood — or accepted — our depression as real depression. To them, it was always something trivial. A waste of time.
Instead of empathy, we were often met with judgment. You’d be called a sadist, an overthinker, or someone too weak to handle life. But that raises a critical question: who is the real sadist here? The one who dares to bring the problem to the table, or the one who insists that pain is just part of life and shouldn’t be questioned?
Depression has existed ever since humans began to feel human emotions. Expressing what you feel shouldn’t be seen as wrong — unless, of course, it becomes inconvenient for others. And maybe that’s where we’ve been stuck.
Our generation has been suffering silently. We were never given the right tools or guidance to navigate our emotional landscape. We were taught to suppress our true feelings and just “act normal.” And now, the generation coming after us seems too practical, too desensitized, to fully understand what we went through — or what we’re still going through.
We’re caught in between: misunderstood by the past, and misaligned with the future. Still trying to find a way out. Still feeling trapped.
Amongst all the life-threatening illnesses we know, depression is one that grows silently—and often invisibly. We either keep moving forward with our lives, ignoring its impact, or we fail to acknowledge it as a serious issue.
India, in particular, stands out with an overwhelming number of people struggling with depression. Working men are exhausted—not just physically but mentally—from long hours, endless workloads, toxic office politics, EMIs and school fees.
For women, the struggle is deeper. They have long been among the most affected. The lack of acceptance in in-law households, combined with heavy domestic responsibilities, often takes a severe toll on mental health. Add to that the demands of modern work life, and the pressure becomes both physical and emotional.
Even the feeling of being alone—unseen, unheard—can be a form of depression. And sometimes, I wonder: once trapped, is there really a way out?
The truth is, the biggest way to fight depression is to fight depression.
Apart from that, there are small but powerful ways to ease the burden.
can help you reconnect with yourself. They don’t “cure” depression, but they can offer a path through it.
Because healing begins when you stop pretending everything is okay—and start taking care of what’s inside.
Some days, you’re just… alone.
Like, not just alone-alone. But no-one-to-talk-to, no-one-who-gets-you kind of alone.
So, you start scrolling your phone like a maniac.
You keep hopping from one app to another — Instagram, WhatsApp, Facebook, back to Instagram again like a fool.
Hoping, praying, maybe someone out there is also bored, lonely, and magically wants to talk to you.
But guess what?
Nope. Just you.
Just you and your phone screen reflecting your single, slightly oily face.
You’ve got a million things to say—stories, thoughts, overthinking spirals, chai-time drama…
But no one who actually listens — not the polite “hmm-hmm” kind, but really feels what you’re feeling.
And when someone does listen?
It’s like talking to a potato.
Zero vibes. Zero connection. Emotional Wi-Fi = disconnected.
Sometimes I wonder…
Is this an actual issue or am I just being a hopeless Bollywood-style romantic?
Anyway, yeah.
Lonely.
Lame.
Still funny in a tragic way.
To the woman who traded heels for home slippers, conference calls for crying toddlers, and freedom for fierce love — you’re not alone.
I didn’t see this coming.
Not the stretch marks, not the emotional meltdowns (mine, not the baby’s), not the endless mental load of “Did I remember to sterilize the bottles?” “Did I pay the school fees?” “Did I eat today?”
As Indian millennial moms, many of us grew up in the golden age of possibilities. We were told we could “have it all” — a thriving career, a loving partner, perfect kids, glowing skin, and a Pinterest-worthy home. Some of us did climb the corporate ladder, build our dream wardrobes, vacation abroad, or launch our businesses.
And then motherhood happened.
Suddenly, “having it all” turned into “doing it all.”
We entered motherhood thinking it would add to our lives. Instead, for a while, it replaced it. Our sense of self, our routines, our ambitions — paused. Or worse, felt erased.
The world around us didn’t prepare us for this version of motherhood. Social media showed glowing maternity shoots, adorable reels with sleepy babies, and aesthetic “mompreneur” home offices with toddlers quietly reading in the background.
Reality? You’re on day 3 of dry shampoo, scrolling job sites at 2 AM while holding a feverish child. The only thing quietly reading is the gas bill.
But here’s what no one tells you — this phase doesn’t break you. It remakes you.
Slowly, through the chaos, you’ll rediscover parts of yourself. Maybe not the same “you” from your pre-mom days, but someone deeper, wiser, stronger. You may find strength in places you didn’t know existed — like negotiating with a preschooler or standing up for flexible work hours without flinching.
Yes, your lifestyle may have done a 360.
But maybe that circle brought you right back — not to the old you — but to the real you.
Here’s what I want you to remember, mama:
This isn’t a detour. This is part of your story. You didn’t lose yourself — you’re evolving. And you get to define what your glow up looks like now.
So here’s to the moms who didn’t plan for this version of life — but are showing up, day by day, with love, grace, and a hell of a lot of strength.
You’re not behind.
You’re building.
And we see you.
From one messy bun to another,
A fellow millennial mom.
