The Never-Ending Question “Who am I?” If I had a rupee for every time I asked myself this question, I’d probably be rich enough to never need a career plan. I’m eighteen. That awkward stage where kids younger than me already seem to have their lives figured out—career goals, startup ideas, even backup dreams in case their first dreams fail. Meanwhile, I’m standing here debating between becoming a singer or a potato. Honestly? Potato sounds peaceful. Potatoes don’t need LinkedIn profiles. Life in Bangalore (Or, How I Only Know One Route) When people hear the word “wanderer,” they imagine sunsets, airports, and Instagram-worthy captions. Not me. My version of wandering is standing in my balcony, watching autos speed by. I’ve lived in Bangalore my entire life, yet I only know the route from school to home. That’s it. If you asked me to navigate beyond that, I’d probably panic and call my mom for directions. And yet, the same people who’ve seen me faint in malls now expect me to move a...

Okay, before you start panicking, this is not a prank. This post isn’t sarcastic. No roasting, no trolling, and no chaotic opinions. Just… me. Sitting on a bench. Talking to a tree. (Yes, I know how that sounds. Just go with it.) The Real Stuff I went out to feed my pet, Laddo, on the balcony—she has a habit of treating the whole house like her personal food court, so the balcony's just easier to clean. I wasn’t planning to stay, but the weather had other ideas. Bangalore, in its usual unpredictable glory, gave me a hot day, surprise rain, and then this perfect, quiet cold that makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, the world’s trying to calm you down. That’s when I saw this tree. It was shedding. Its dry leaves clung on as if they didn’t want to let go. And under the dull moonlight, with the stars silently watching, I sat there… and weirdly, compared myself to it. The tree stood tall, even with everything falling apart around it. It had only a few leaves left—kind of like me a...