The Ring

The Ring. So do you know the hype behind it? That ain’t just a round stuff studded with stones or dyed in silver, there’s more to it, something deep, so deep that it hardly strikes the minds of us, the Normies.

“If I had to choose between his ring and my books, how good should the ring be in order for me to get over my books? Or is it that its goodness was never a yardstick for preference? Does the glitter of the ring matter or does the glow in his heart matter? And if that glow matters, then how intense should the glow be, to surpass the burning flame of books within me? Also, if your flame of books can be dimmed by someone, then was it even your heartfelt goal?”

All these questions were thrown at her face. She was asked to choose between life and life, love and love, happiness and happiness. The former love didn’t seem to help her. How would he? He didn’t even have a hint of what she was going through. The latter love, her books, had always helped her find a way out. They always advised her to go for the one that brought a shine to her eyes. But they didn’t tell her how to decipher between the various types of shines: the shine of finding someone for life and the shine of doing something in life. The books told her to never fall apart but also told her to adore a person who could mend her fallen pieces. All the various answers she had, popped up a question. A question of choice; a question of priority.
She thought of her dad. His extravagant dreams for her. Again, a tear found its way to her cheeks. She knew that he was least bothered by the hype about the ring. For him, cross-roads never existed. The only goal was to become the person you have dreamt of. He never appreciated the idea of a person walking his daughter through this journey. According to him, it was her journey. He wanted her to accomplish it without any distractions. Little did he know that those can also be termed as helping hands instead of distractions. She sank further. Usually, her pillow used to come to her rescue, on hopeless nights which only saw tears. But now, even the pillow couldn’t console her. It had seen her best and worst times. But today was different. It wasn’t the worst time. It was the last time. She looked for answers everywhere, but her quest wasn’t sufficed by anyone or anything. She picked the pen for one last time and scribbled down her feelings. The unsaid ones finally found their way out from her heart. The burden of questions sank her further down. That night, the walls saw the rope around her neck and took a silent note of yet another suicide of a young growing soul. Only if the society had loosened its noose around her life, she wouldn’t have tightened the noose around her neck. Some “maybe”s and “what if”s were always left at a cliff-hanger.

They opened her crushed note:

“One day, I wanted to stand on my own,
Embrace my life with love and pride,
Walk down the aisle with the love of my life,
Enrich my soul with books and smiles.

But destiny had other plans.
I stood on a crossroad with vague hopes.
I knew my one day was just a dream.
The society gave me wings but never let me fly. It gave me hopes but never let me dream. It taught me ethics but never let me apply them in my own life.

I want to fight back.

But what’s the use of fighting against someone who doesn’t even agree to the norms of the fight?
I would be pulled back whether I win or lose.

Being stagnant was an option.
Quitting and freeing myself from the clutches of this society was the other option.

I refuse to be stagnant.


Isn’t it high time to relook into our norms and “justified ethics”?


Gayatri Srinivasan






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