A raised voice still startles me,

Silence in a crowded room still frightens me,

When illness finds me, I still long for my mother

as though I'm an infant again,

still tethered to her by an invisible umbilical cord,

wanting nothing more

than to find my way back.

I wear courage like borrowed clothing,

convincing the world that I've outgrown my fears.

But whenever life strikes again,

I still cry.

I retrace every decision,

search every road for a way home.

Not because I refuse to grow,

but because there is one place

where I never had to pretend to be strong.

I still want to go back to my mother,

if only for a moment,

so that I can feel weak again.

I'm still weak.

I grow weary

walking the same road,

again and again,

day after day,

only to arrive nowhere.

I still wait for my father

to gather me into his arms

as though I'm an infant again,

and carry the weight of the journey

I no longer know how to walk.

Not because I cannot keep going,

but because, for a little while,

I want someone else's strength

to be enough for both of us.

I want my father to walk the path for me,

so that I can feel weak again.

I'm still weak.

Some days,

the weight of becoming someone

is heavier than I can carry.

I still look for my brother

to nudge me forward,

to laugh at my fears,

to tell me, as he always did,

"Come on, we'll figure it out."

For a moment,

I want him to walk beside me,

to carry the part of the burden

I no longer have the strength to lift.

Not because I cannot go on,

but because I miss the certainty

that I was never walking alone.

I still long for my brother's shoulder,

so that I can feel weak again.

Pranav Sankrityayan

Note: Picture is AI generated. New at writing Poetry, used to write couplets in Hindi but trying this. Feedbacks will be appreciated. Thanks for reading in Advance 🫡

Will you come to me?

When you complete your goals,

When you climb every mountain,

When the applause fades,

Will you come to me?

When the battles you've chosen

Finally fall silent,

When ambition loosens its grip

From your tired hands,

Will you come to me?

When you've bought the house

You once drew in your notebook,

When your parents look at you

With nothing but pride,

Will you come to me?

When your calendar

Has no more wars to fight,

When there's nothing left

To postpone love for,

Will you come to me?

And if you do come,

Come not because the world

Has exhausted you,

Come because,

Through all your victories,

You realized you're incomplete,

Cause you don't have someone

To return home to.

Newspaper reading was something I picked up from my grandfather at an early age. There used to be articles and satires by Khushwant Singh which I used to enjoy very much. So, during a usual outing, we went to have dinner at a local restaurant. Afterward, while we were walking, I noticed another stall, so I went and checked out the books available there. My eyes were caught by Train to Pakistan, written by Khushwant Singh. I knew it must be about the 1947 partition because he used to write about it in his articles, so I bought it without a second thought.

In those days, I was exploring old songs as well, so I put on "Leja Leja Re" by Ustad Sultan Khan and Shreya Ghoshal. I removed the plastic, opened the book, and was surprised to see that it wasn't the book I was hoping for. Instead, it was a book called The Company of Women, also written by Khushwant Singh.

I thought What the hell and started reading it. Like my earlier article about 27 dresses I won't go much into the details of the book rather I'll use it as a broader base to convey my thoughts.

The Storyline

At the age of 84, Khushwant Singh wrote one of his most sexually explicit novels, drawing inspiration from his father's series of love affairs following a divorce from his mother. Regarded as the 'fantasies of an octogenarian,' the book stunned many critics and even led a lawyer in Chennai to file a lawsuit calling out its obscene content

The protagonist, Mohan Kumar, is a bright student who earns a scholarship to Princeton University, where he soon develops a reputation for having an unusually large penis. While I won't delve into his sexual affairs, Khushwant Singh certainly does, describing them in painstaking detail.

Upon returning to India, Mohan becomes wealthy and settles into married life. However, his passion for women remains undiminished despite his marriage to a nagging, ill-tempered wife. Following their separation, he places a classified advertisement offering to compensate women for their companionship and physical intimacy.

Each new woman brings a different experience for a few short days, but whenever one leaves, he quickly replaces her in pursuit of that same thrill. Ultimately, he takes his own life after discovering he has contracted HIV/AIDS from an encounter with a prostitute in Mumbai

To dismiss this book as merely a tale of debauchery and lust would be a mistake. Over time, you begin to see the human beneath it all- a man who fears emotional abandonment, craves validation, and leaps into new relationships to fill a hollow core.

"The opposite of loneliness is not sex. It is being understood."

That is how it is for most people on the wrong path. Occasionally, they hear an inner voice, but they quickly stifle it. To listen too long is to give it power, allowing inner turmoil to spark a revolution that disrupts their entire life. Many convince themselves they are simply past the point of return.

Mohan continually mistakes proximity for connection. Every affair promises a fresh start and an escape from loneliness, but desire is deceptive: it silences emptiness only briefly. Once satisfied, the same unanswered questions return. Blaise Pascal famously noted that "all of humanity's problems stem from man's inability to sit quietly in a room alone." Mohan’s tragedy is not his relentless pursuit of women, but his sheer terror of solitude.

Loneliness has merely changed its wardrobe.

Reassessing this book seven or eight years later, it feels strikingly modern. Today, we swipe instead of waiting, text instead of speaking, and collect surface-level exchanges instead of cultivating real companionship. We possess endless ways to reach one another, yet remain deeply alone- more connected than ever, yet profoundly isolated. 

Loneliness in men is shaped by changing social structures, fewer close friendships, delayed partnerships, and cultural expectations that discourage emotional openness.

"Men are taught how to pursue success, but not how to cultivate vulnerability."

We grow up believing that affection must be earned through achievement and that emotional dependence is a weakness. The result is paradoxical: we know how to impress, but few know how to confess.

Bell hooks wrote about patriarchal demands:

"The first act of violence that patriarchy demands of males is... the psychic self-mutilation of emotional repression."

This phenomenon is even more pronounced today with the increasing prevalence of dating apps, disposable relationships, and the search for instant gratification- resulting in emotional unavailability and a rising consumer culture in love.

Bodies may meet, but their souls remain strangers. And the question, "Who truly knows me?" remains unanswered because this inexpressibility is so persistent.

Every Woman Represents Something

Hook-up culture, porn, and the recent phenomenon of Instagram soft-porn reels have blinded the younger generation. They don't see a woman as someone who can reflect their true selves or introduce them to parts of their own personality they didn't even know existed.

Each woman in Mohan's life represents less of a romantic partner and more of a distinct hope: one promises validation, another escape, youth, or permanence. Yet no one can heal a wound she did not create; the emptiness persists because it originates.

Rainer Maria Rilke described this phenomenon well:

"Love consists in this, that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other."

First, two solitudes. Only then, love.

Beyond the Story

We have become experts at finding company and amateurs at building companionship. We start to judge ourselves (as men) by our ability to suppress emotion, measuring our worth by sexual success and defending against our own vulnerabilities- performing masculinity, but rarely experiencing it honestly.

That is why the novel resonates so strongly in modern times. Khushwant Singh anticipated a world where company is increasingly abundant, yet intimacy is increasingly scarce; where relationships are easier to begin than to sustain, and loneliness survives even in crowded rooms, where people mistake being chosen for being understood.

Khushwant Singh did not merely write about a man surrounded by women- he wrote about a civilization that increasingly confuses attention with affection, desire with intimacy, and company with companionship.

"The deepest loneliness is not the absence of people; it is the absence of being truly seen."

I think these are the reasons I couldn't forget Mohan. Not because of his sexual debauchery or because he loved too many women, but because he never discovered that no amount of company can substitute for genuine connection- either with another person or with oneself.

Sources: The Company of Women by Khushwant Singh; Wikipedia( for bibliographic and publication context), The protest of romance. Any errors or interpretations are solely of my own.

Pranav Sankrityayan

I had missed the first few seconds, but just below the top-right corner of the screen, the title "27 Dresses" appeared. The movie opened with a wedding scene. Being a teenager, I knew I had to watch it because, hey—there was bound to be a kiss after the vows, so why not? Little did I know that this movie would change something inside me, unlocking emotions I didn't even know existed.

But this isn't a movie review. It is more of a personal anecdote about how, even after so many years, I still view it as the catalyst that made me believe in giving without expecting anything in return. It taught me to always be available for the people I love, and to carry the slim hope that, in the end, the people I have helped will stand by me.

So let's begin! The movie revolves around Jane Nichols, who has been a bridesmaid 27 times. She knows every wedding ritual and every bride's preferences, ensuring that everything goes perfectly on the big day. The funny, yet bizarre part? She has kept all 27 dresses in her closet. To me, that closet is symbolic: each dress represents a moment when Jane chose someone else's happiness over her own. This is something many of us do without a second thought, and it hadn't crossed her mind either.

You might think this movie is just about weddings and dresses, but it isn't. Ultimately, it is about a woman who has become indispensable to everyone except herself. That is precisely why this movie has resonated so deeply with me at every stage of my life. And i’m not a woman. To explain why, I will break it down into a few themes and connect them to my own reflections.

The Habit of Being Needed.

Jane doesn't become a bridesmaid twenty-seven times because she loves weddings. She becomes one because she cannot say no. That inability is less about kindness and more about identity. She has learned to derive her worth from being dependable. Every "yes" earns appreciation. Every sacrifice reinforces the image of the reliable friend.

Outside cinema, our dresses look different. One person becomes the family member who solves everyone's problems. Another becomes the colleague who never refuses extra work. Someone else becomes the friend who is always available but never truly heard.

We become experts at showing up for others while quietly disappearing from our own lives.

When Care Becomes Escape

Jane spends so much time planning other people's futures that she postpones her own. She mistakes participation for progress.

The film gently asks a difficult question:Can helping others sometimes become a way of avoiding ourselves?

As long as Jane is arranging flowers, choosing venues, and fixing seating plans, she never has to confront her own fears- of rejection, vulnerability, or wanting something she may not receive.

Perhaps we do the same.

Keeping busy with other people's lives is often easier than taking responsibility for our own.

The Cost of Living in Someone Else's Story

The emotional turning point arrives when Jane watches her younger sister(Tess) become engaged to the man she secretly loves (Her boss: George)

Her sister lies to George so that he falls for her and he eventually does and proposes Tess.

For years she has watched everyone else find love while assuming her own desires could wait.That moment extends beyond romance.

Many of us watch others build careers while postponing our ambitions, celebrate milestones while delaying our dreams, or speak honestly while we remain silent to preserve harmony.

Some people spend their lives arranging the stage for everyone else's performance, only to realise they never stepped into the spotlight themselves.

The Harsh Reality Check

In the movie, the male lead, Kevin, is a newspaper columnist who writes under the pen name Malcolm Doyle. After spotting Jane at a wedding, he becomes intrigued by her. When he accidentally finds her planner—where she has meticulously organized every detail of her life—he decides to write an exposé on her. However, as he gets to know her, he realizes there is far more to her than just her obsession with weddings.

I actually decided to become a writer at that very age, simply because of Kevin. I was captivated by his anti-marriage tirades, the way he fell for Jane despite his cynicism, and, of course, the fact that he was always wearing a blazer. Although life ended up taking me down a different path, the dream of writing has stayed with me ever since.

Kevin tries to push her to introspect and develop the strength to say "no." But Jane, true to form, cannot help herself and agrees to plan her sister Tess's wedding anyway. She finally reaches her breaking point when Tess cuts up their late mother’s wedding gown to make it more "fashionable." Devastated and pushed to her limit, Jane snaps. She drags every single bridesmaid dress out of her closet, and—

At the wedding rehearsal dinner, Jane projects a slideshow that exposes Tess's true character to everyone—an act that, in my opinion, is far too harsh.

But that is exactly the point: if you are always playing the part of the "good guy" while people fail to respect or appreciate you, a crash-out is inevitable. Jane suppressed her feelings for so long that when she finally stood up for herself, she went completely overboard.

There is a vital difference between compassion and self-erasure.

Selflessness is beautiful.

Self-neglect is not.

Helping someone else cross the river shouldn't mean forgetting that you have a river of your own you wished to cross.

The Ending.

Jane finally choses herself. Not because she became selfish but because she realised that a person who never choses themselves eventually has nothing authentic left to offer others. Choosing yourself isn't betrayal, it is responsibility.

It is necessary to be there for everyone else but self care is equally important. The soothing and whitepill part of the movie is all her 27 friends appear in her wedding!

"There is wisdom in choosing yourself, but there is also grace in knowing that every heart you genuinely stood beside may one day stand beside yours."

All of us carry a wardrobe filled with invisible dresses.

Every promise made at the expense of our own dreams. Every opportunity declined because someone else needed us. Every "yes" spoken when our heart whispered "not this time."

There is dignity in serving others. Society survives because people care for one another. But compassion should never demand self-erasure.

Life asks each of us, sooner or later, to step out of the rows of bridesmaids and onto the path that is unmistakably our own.

The question is not whether we have worn twenty-seven dresses.

The question is whether we will ever have the courage to wear the twenty-eighth!

I try to write the quiet corners of being human- the ones we often walk without noticing. If it made you pause, even briefly, you'll enjoy upcoming one's.

Pranav Sankrityayan

After 2-3 encounters we got to know each other. His name was Akhilesh and he was from Bihar since I'm from East UP so our bonhomie developed and I become his regular customer.

I used to notice a horse tied nearby his cart. I thought it's his horse and he uses him to pull his cart.

Few days down the line I casually asked Akhilesh What you feed him?

Akhilesh's emotion got fueled up and he told me "Bhaiya, it's not mine, he's a marriage horse", his handlers have tied him here and they seldom comes to feed him , we sellers feed him with our surplus vegetable. I was shocked to know this. I took my groceries and went back home little disturbed. I wasn't looking for a story, I was just looking for vegetables.

I recalled George Orwells Quote-

“To see what is in front of one's nose needs a constant struggle."

On the next visit I saw the horse closely his eyes were speaking the horrors of his life, it's ribs visible beneath fading skin, legs resembling chicken legs. I was taken aback and started questioning few things, I'll try to answer it for you.

Why a White Horse?

For centuries the groom mounted a horse because it symbolised valour, warriorhood, nobility and prestige.

White colour was associated with purity, auspicious beginnings, prosperity and royalty.

Later in the subcontinent people used to take many horses in wedding procession to chase away dacoits who used to loot weddings.

Now the torture which they go through while thousands enjoy and have the time of their life.

Hidden Cruelties in Wedding procession

Illegal Spiked Bits: To control the horses amidst chaotic crowds, handlers often use banned, heavily spiked metal bits. These devices dig deep into the horse's mouth, ripping their tongue, gums, and lips, causing bloody wounds and extreme pain.

Sensory Overload and Fear: Horses are naturally prey animals with highly sensitive hearing and vision. The blasting brass bands, pounding drums (dhol), bright flashing lights, and firecrackers cause immense psychological trauma, panic, and a constant, suppressed urge to flee.

Severe Physical Neglect: Wedding horses are frequently malnourished, dehydrated, and overworked. They are often forced to walk miles on hard asphalt, stand still for hours under heavy, suffocating decorative clothing, and work even when injured.

Concealed Injuries: The elaborate, heavily embroidered costumes and saddles placed on the horses are frequently used by vendors to strategically hide raw wounds, whip marks, and skin infections from the wedding guests.

Abusive Housing: Outside of the wedding venue, these animals are often tied up for days in cramped, filthy sheds overflowing with feces, denying them the space to lie down or rest comfortably.

What are the safeguards in Indian Law?

Animal Welfare Board of India guidelines for the use of animals in public events.

Prevention of Cruelty to Animals Act, 1960, which prohibits unnecessary pain and suffering.

Transport and welfare rules requiring adequate food, water, shelter, rest, and humane treatment.

In several cities, local authorities and courts have imposed restrictions or required permissions for using horses in wedding processions due to concerns over noise, overcrowding, and welfare.

Laws can prohibit cruelty. They cannot compel compassion.

The Societal Issue.

We can't blame only the handlers as they are themselves poor, they too struggle to meet their ends add they get only a few days in a year to earn through this.

We should ask ourselves, why this tradition hasn't evolved? We see a lot more destination weddings, drones, LED screens and what not in weddings depicting technological advancements but why do we need a horse to carry a grown ass man? Why must the horse remain frozen in history?

The question isn't whether traditions should disappear.

It is whether traditions should evolve when they depend upon the suffering of another living being.

As Milan Kundera has beautifully put out that-

"The true test of humanity's moral character lies in its relation to those who are at its mercy."

And this isn't just about the horses, it's about every silent participant in the society, the voiceless, the downtrodden, every one of them.

Akhilesh still sells vegetables there, whenever I visit, I feed him Cucumbers and corn, and think "Perhaps civilizations are remembered less for how they celebrated joy than for whom they forgot while celebrating it."

The White Horse stands there quietly, nothing dramatic happens and as Albert Scheweitzer notes "Until he extends the circle of compassion to all living things, man will not himself find peace." I lay restless because, I realized I had found a mirror. It reflected not the suffering of an animal alone, but our remarkable ability to celebrate beauty while overlooking the life that bears it.

Every week, I write about the lives, ideas, and moments we pass by too quickly, not to provide certainty, but to help us see more carefully. If that resonates with you, subscribe.

Pranav Sankrityayan