THY ELOQUENCE

In 2025, a case was reported in California where a lawsuit was filed by the parents of a teenager who ended his life, allegedly at the encouragement of ChatGPT, an AI chatbot. The lawsuit was filed against OpenAI.   What started as an innocent search for help with homework and suggestions for his Japanese art hobby soon turned into a tragic example of how AI can risk human life — and how algorithms can never replace the soothing effect that can be achieved through a human therapist.   According to the lawsuit, Adam began using ChatGPT in September 2024. Like many teenagers, he was curious and a little lonely, using the chatbot to talk about his interests in Japanese comics and music. Over time, he began to see the AI not just as a helper, but as a therapist and “his best friend.” By January 2025, his conversations turned darker. He spoke to the AI about his suicidal thoughts. Instead of suggesting professional help for his mental state or helping him come to terms with h...

The HANNAH BAKER way.  Inspired from the book- Thirteen Reasons Why. 
 Has there ever been a person you liked so much but the only thing you could ever do for the sake of Lord is talk to them. Even if it was a simple light-hearted conversation, the best you could do was to drop in a little ‘hello, how are you’.   Why?  Because liking someone means liking their particular trait which  you wish you possessed before. It could be anything - personality, looks, smartness anything that makes them unique in your eyes. And starting a conversation with this cool version of your built-up perspective requires real courage.  We all are always waiting. Waiting for someone to know us, understand us and believe us like no one ever could before. Unfortunately, this turns out to be one difficult task especially in a world where trust comes at a high cost.  Those who do find this ‘trust’ in this world are rare and have fortunately hit the jackpot of fate.
And before you know...

I think about ghosts a lot. Not the conjuring, biblical Hollywood crap, the quiet ones lingering in my room. Sitting at my bedside, hoping I'd take my antidepressants today and staring at myself in the mirror while I apply concealer to the eyes that haven't known peace in twelve years. Quietly watching my new clothes with tags still on, bought in the desperate hope of finally stepping out of my bed and staring at the toothbrush I haven't picked up for two days in a row. Living beneath the scars on my arms, on the days they ooze with blood, on the days they seem like distant memories. I often romanticise the morning after I kill myself, hoping, praying to wake up as one of them. To finally exist freely. To fulfil my lifelong dream of being invisible. I will probably die with an open tab of JavaScript tutorials and unsolved LeetCode problems. That's a miserable way to die. Underachiever. Failure. Just not good enough. I wish I could go back in time and be her again, th...

 The story of Indian fashion traverses millennia, one marked by the interplay of power, identity, and resistance. At the heart of this story, the medium of cloth has woven itself into the tapestry of Indian civilization to serve not only as a form of adornment but also as a tool of political maneuvering and cultural assertion. Prestige was already attached to cloth in the Indus Valley Civilization around 2500 BCE. Archaeological finds of fine cotton fabrics reveal that weaving was not just a craft but a social status; mastery over thread symbolized mastery over community and trade. As empires flourished, textiles became an emblem of political might. This integration of fabric and power found its zenith during the Mughal Empire, wherein textiles were, in fact, the very language of majesty. Silks embroidered with gold and silver thread, intricate brocades, and luminous muslins were crafted not merely to please the eye but to claim sovereignty. A robe from Akbar's court could speak to...

What if the trend we’re following is the death of real listening? Am I listening because I love it, or because everyone else does? There’s this strange silence I feel when I scroll through Spotify playlists these days — like déjà vu on loop. Everyone’s “On Repeat” looks the same: Travis Scott, Seedhe Maut, The Weeknd, maybe AP Dhillon or Drake to keep it “vibe certified.” It’s not that I don’t like them — I do. I’ve rapped along to “Highest in the Room” at 2 a.m. and screamed Seedhe Maut’s “Nanchaku” and “Hola Amigo” in the metro with my friends. But sometimes, when the loud noise fades and the reels stop scrolling, I left with a strange silence. A SILENCE that asks, is this really me Somewhere between algorithm-curated playlists and “What are you listening to these days?” small talk, I lost the real essence of me. Because deep down, my real playlist doesn’t live on the Explore page. It lives in Rahat Fateh Ali Khan’s voice when he sings “O Re Piya,” in Lata Mangeshkar’s tremble that f...

Yesterday, while wandering through old memories tucked between pages of old albums I stumbled upon a photograph of myself... Wrapped in oversized colourful dupattas and lots of innocence. I looked like a tiny dreamer trying to be a fashion icon in my own little universe. At first i thought - oh! That silly younger me , but then something made me pause. A gentle thought whispered in my mind -WHAT REALLY IS FASHION? Is it just about following the world? Or showing the world who you are. Is it just the clothes we wear? Or the language through which we express ourselves. Is it just following the trend? Or discovering one's style, embracing beauty in every shape and shade.             "It's childhood spark in frill and bows,               A confidence that quietly grows              A mirror of soul inside,              When shy heart learn to walk with pride...

If I had a penny for every time I heard someone say in the past few years, “Man, they don’t make movies like they used to”, I’d have enough cash to bribe Bollywood into making one decent script. It’s a natural rite of passage for the older generation to haughtily disapprove of anything the youth come up with. We’ve all grown up witnessing Bhide from Taarak Mehta ka Oolta Chashmah’s holier-than-thou “ Humare zamaane mein… . (translated to: back in my day…)” that earned him more jibes than respect. But what’s peculiar now is the rising trend of even the youngsters distancing themselves from the contemporary media — identifying themselves with tags such as an “old soul” and clinging to things that belong inherently to other generations. In an age where every brand, product, and story is tailor-made for the youth, how has the industry managed to fumble so gloriously that their very demographic wants to renounce itself from it? Cinema, of course, has taken a major hit. You can’t have a ...