She Didn’t Sit There to Relax

✍️ By Subhasri Devaraj

Image cretaed BY Subhasri Devaraj (Author)

The swing groaned softly under her weight—not in welcome, but in quiet protest. Kavitha didn’t sit because she wanted rest. She sat because there was nowhere else to go. The sunlight creeping across the marble tiles didn’t comfort her; it just reminded her the day had started without asking permission.

The brass lamp still flickered from the early puja, but it didn’t feel sacred this morning. Just routine. She held a glass of tea she didn’t want—too strong, too sweet, just like yesterday’s. Her saree clung to her in the humidity, stiff with starch and obligation.

Outside, life roared—a pressure cooker whistle, motorbikes in the street, a baby crying in the neighbor’s flat. But inside, Kavitha felt like a ghost moving through a museum of her own choices. She caught sight of the brass statue on the shelf—Lakshmi, maybe Saraswati. She couldn’t remember. They all looked the same now.

She took a sip of her tea, not for warmth but to prove she still could.

And for just a second, she imagined walking out. Leaving the swing, the puja shelf, the expectations behind. But she didn’t move. Not yet.

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🧠 Disclaimer:

✋ No AI Here:
This blog post was written 100% by me, Subhasri Devaraj, without the use of AI writing tools.
Every word is real, personal, and written from scratch — just like a proper conversation over filter coffee. ☕
No bots. No auto-generated fluff. Just me, talking to you

⚠️ No content here is copied or auto-published. I don't post anything I wouldn’t say to a friend.

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