It always starts innocently enough. You decide to take a break, maybe a fifteen-minute scroll through nothingness, maybe a nap that dissolves time entirely. Then, right on cue, the guilt slithers in. That itchy little whisper: shouldn’t you be doing something right now? We’ve turned idleness into a moral crime. Stillness feels dangerous, indulgent like eating ice-cream for dinner or ignoring an urgent email that probably wasn’t urgent at all. We even disguise our rest as productivity to make it acceptable:
“I’m recharging”
“It’s part of my creative process”
“Self-care Sunday.”

As if simply being needs a justification.

We live in fast-paced times where an individual’s worth is measured in output. In posts published, tasks checked, and in steps counted. So when you do nothing, it feels like letting yourself and the world down. Even rest now comes with progress bars. My fitness kept prompting me to “track recovery” alongside “track fitness.” Imagine that! You must perform even in your sleep. Somewhere between capitalism and caffeine, we absorbed this belief that stillness is laziness. That if you’re not moving, you’re falling behind. But behind whom, exactly? The answer changes daily. Sometimes it is that influencer with the perfect morning routine, sometimes it is a colleague who is thriving on burnout, and sometimes you beat that imaginary version of yourself who never wastes a second.

Doing nothing has become an act of defiance because to sit quietly, without producing, improving, or proving, is to reclaim your humanity in a world that monetizes every breath. Maybe the problem isn’t that we’re tired. Maybe it’s that we’ve forgotten how to stop without feeling like we’re doing something wrong.

Somewhere along the way, someone decided that rest had to be earned. Like it’s a prize you get for surviving your own overcommitment. You work yourself raw. Then once you’ve proven that you are suffering enough, do you get to sleep, to read, to breathe. We have to wait till the inbox is empty, the dishes are done, the to-do list resembles a battlefield cleared of enemies. And when we finally sit down, it is not peace that we feel. It is relief edged with guilt. Because apparently, we can’t even stop without a reason.

We wear exhaustion like a badge of honor. We compliment people for being “so busy,” as if depletion is a virtue. “I haven’t slept properly in days” has somehow become a humblebrag and an offering to the gods of productivity. Meanwhile, our nervous systems are waving flags of complete surrender.

What’s tragic is that rest was never meant to be a trophy. In nature, it is a rhythm. The tide goes out. The moon wanes. Even seeds stay dormant before they bloom. No one scolds them for being “unproductive.” But humans? We schedule burnout like it’s a recurring meeting. The irony is painful: we chase momentum but refuse to see that even motion has pauses built in. A heartbeat, a breath, a drumbeat… they all depend on space between sounds. Take that space away, and what’s left isn’t rhythm. It’s noise.

So maybe it’s time to stop treating rest like a reward for endurance. Rest isn’t what you get after you’ve lived. It’s how you live. It’s the pause that keeps the music from collapsing into chaos.

There’s a quiet kind of rebellion in closing your laptop while the world screams “hustle.” No fireworks needed. Just a simple act: choosing to stop. We’ve been trained to believe that rest is the absence of progress, that stillness equals surrender. But what if… just what if, stopping isn’t the end of motion, what if it’s the beginning of meaning?

Rest, in its purest form, is refusal. Refusal to be consumed. Refusal to perform with burnout as proof of value. Refusal to run a race no one actually wins. To rest is to say: “I’m still human, even when I’m not producing.”

That’s not laziness. That’s resistance.

Look at any creative or revolutionary life, and you’ll see the pattern. Artists vanish between projects. Writers retreat after the noise. Rest isn’t what comes after greatness; it’s what allows greatness to exist.

Agust D goes silent before a storm of music.
SRK disappeared for years, before delivering a comeback that will go down in history.
{Ofcourse I had to tie-in my two favourite men 😀}

There’s something beautifully subversive about rest that’s unapologetic. Not “I’ve earned this,” but simply, “I exist, and that’s reason enough.”

Here’s the cruel joke: we say we want peace, but we can’t stand what peace feels like.

Stillness, true stillness, is a confrontation. When the noise stops, the mind doesn’t sigh in relief. Instead it panics. Suddenly there’s space, and in that space comes everything we’ve been running from: boredom, anxiety, unprocessed grief, the sound of our own thoughts echoing too loudly.

That’s why rest feels wrong. Stillness reveals what we are trying to avoid.

We’ve wired ourselves for constant stimulation. We can’t even stand in an elevator without reaching for our phones. Our brains, marinated in dopamine hits and notifications, have forgotten the flavor of quiet. We call it “doing nothing.” Anything but what it really is: existing without distraction. It terrifies us, because we’ve built our identities around doing. Ask someone who they are, and they’ll tell you what they do. Jobs, hobbies, achievements. Rest strips that armor off. It forces us to ask: who am I when I’m not performing usefulness? So we stay busy to avoid ourselves. We call it discipline, ambition, drive… anything that sounds better than fear.

So, how do we rebel gracefully without giving up life?

You don’t have to renounce society, move to the mountains, or delete every app to reclaim rest.

You just have to stop apologizing for being human. Rest doesn’t have to look like lying in a meadow with your phone on airplane mode (though that sounds divine). It can be quiet resistance threaded through ordinary hours… a refusal to make every second productive.

Here’s how to start rebelling without burning down your life:

1. Schedule rest first, not last.
Treat rest like a meeting with your sanity. Put it on your calendar before the work, not after. If you wait till you “deserve” it, you never will.

2. Redefine success.
Try measuring your days by energy instead of output. Did something restore you today? That counts more than the number of emails you sent.

3. Take micro-pauses.
Tiny rebellions does wonders for you. Stare out the window for five minutes. Breathe without purpose. Listen to music without multitasking. Be unproductive with intent.

4. Let boredom breathe.
You don’t have to fill every silence. Boredom is the compost heap of creativity. Leave it alone long enough and something wild might grow.

5. Rest publicly.
When someone asks how your weekend was, try saying “I did nothing,” and resist the urge to justify it. Watch their face twist in confusion. That’s their system short-circuiting.

6. Remember the body knows before the mind.
If your body is screaming for rest, believe it. You can’t think your way out of exhaustion. You can only stop.

At some point, you stop chasing and start noticing. The light on the wall. The sound of your own breath. The way time expands when you stop demanding things from it. You realize the world doesn’t fall apart when you step away. The emails keep arriving. The projects keep orbiting. The planet keeps spinning, almost insultingly fine without your supervision. And somehow, that’s not depressing. It’s relief.

Because maybe the point was never to keep up. Maybe the point was to wake up.

The real power lies in knowing when to stop, and daring to stop anyway.

So rest. Not because you’ve earned it, but because you exist.

Rest because the world has enough noise, and your silence might just be the most radical sound in it.

Rest because you can.

Somewhere along the way, silence became a problem to be solved. Sitting alone at a party? Someone must come to your rescue. Not participating in a group activity? Clearly, you need encouragement. Quietly enjoying your own space? Oh no, we can’t have that. Because in a world that glorifies constant interaction, stillness is mistaken for loneliness, and solitude is seen as a cry for help.

As an introvert, I’ve spent years dodging well-meaning but relentless attempts to make me more social, as if my natural state is something to be fixed. At social gatherings (the ones I can’t avoid, anyway), I’m perfectly happy sitting in a corner, observing, or simply existing without feeling the need to contribute to the collective noise. But that’s rarely an option. Someone always thinks they’re doing me a favor by dragging me into a conversation, a party game, or—worst of all—to the dance floor. Because in their mind, I can’t possibly be enjoying myself if I’m not talking, moving, or otherwise proving my engagement.

It’s exhausting. And frankly, it’s time for a perspective shift.

This blog post isn’t about how introverts can “come out of their shells.” It’s not another list of ways we can learn to navigate a world that never stops talking. We have enough of those already. No, this is for the extroverts—the ones who thrive on energy, who can’t stand silence, who equate stillness with boredom, and who feel the need to fill every moment with noise.

Let’s flip the script. What if, instead of pushing introverts to be louder, extroverts learned to be quieter? What if you discovered that peace exists beyond constant conversation? That silence doesn’t need to be awkward, and not everyone is desperate to be included?

This is your guide to embracing the lost art of silence and, more importantly, learning when to just let introverts be.

No, We’re Not Broken: Myths About Introverts

For some reason, introversion is often treated like an unfortunate condition—something that needs to be fixed, managed, or overcome.

“You should speak up more!”

“You just need to get out more...”
“You’d have more fun if you joined in!” 

“You just need to come out of your shell!”

These are the well-meaning but utterly exhausting phrases introverts hear all the time.

So, let’s set the record straight. Here are some of the most persistent myths about introverts—debunked, once and for all.

1. Introverts are just shy.

No, introversion and shyness are not the same thing. Shyness is about fear of social judgment, while introversion is about energy. An introvert can be completely comfortable speaking in front of a crowd and still want to go home afterward and sit in silence for three hours.

2. Introverts don’t like people.

We like people. We just don’t like all people, all the time, in all settings. There’s a difference. Introverts value deep, meaningful connections, but the idea of filling every silence with small talk is pure torture.

3. Introverts don’t have fun.

Just because we don’t express excitement the same way extroverts do doesn’t mean we’re not enjoying ourselves. We don’t need to scream, jump, or dance to confirm that we’re having a good time. Sometimes, the best kind of fun is sitting in a quiet café, reading a book, or having a one-on-one conversation that doesn’t involve yelling over loud music.

4. Introverts are bad at socializing.

Introverts can be great at socializing. They just do it differently. Instead of bouncing from one person to another, they prefer quality over quantity—fewer interactions, but deeper ones. Also, they don’t believe in talking just for the sake of talking. Silence is perfectly fine, and no, it’s not awkward.

5. Introverts need to ‘come out of their shell.’

This is probably the most frustrating myth of them all. There is no “shell.” This is our personality. An introvert sitting quietly in a group isn’t waiting to be “saved” from themselves. They’re just… fine. Imagine that.

6. Introverts don’t like attention.

Not necessarily true. Some introverts love being in the spotlight—on their own terms. Many actors, musicians, and public speakers are introverts. The difference is, they need time to recharge afterward, whereas extroverts might thrive on the attention and seek more of it.

7. Introverts can’t be friends with extroverts.

Introverts and extroverts can be great friends—as long as there’s mutual respect. The key is understanding that introverts don’t always want to hang out, and that’s not a sign of disinterest. Sometimes, silence is just our way of being present. Almost all of my close friends are extroverts - they understand that I'd rather just observe than participate.

8. Introverts are always quiet.

Oh, we can be very loud—when we actually have something to say. Give an introvert a topic they’re passionate about, put them with the right people, or just catch them in the right mood, and they’ll talk your ear off. The difference? We don’t feel the need to fill silence. If there’s nothing important to say, we’re perfectly happy just existing in the moment.

Now that we’ve cleared up some misconceptions, let’s move on to the real challenge—helping extroverts embrace quiet and resist the urge to fix what isn’t broken.

Silence Isn’t Awkward—You Just Don’t Know What to Do With It

Let’s talk about silence. That vast, terrifying void where no one is talking, no music is playing, and—heaven forbid—no one is performing social energy exchanges every five seconds.

For some people, silence is peaceful. For others, it’s an unbearable abyss that must be filled with noise, chatter, or the first random thought that pops into their head (“So, uh… crazy weather, huh?”). If you fall into the second category, I have news for you: silence is not the enemy. You’ve just never learned how to sit with it.

Think about it. When was the last time you sat with someone in comfortable silence? No checking your phone, no feeling the urge to fill the gap, no background noise—just existing in the same space without pressure. If that idea makes you itch, then congratulations, you’ve just found your next personal growth challenge.

The truth is... silence only feels awkward if you believe it should be. But it doesn’t have to be. It’s just another form of communication—one that introverts are fluent in. Sometimes, the best moments aren’t the ones crammed with endless words, but the ones where you can just be.

Now, if you’re wondering, “Okay, but what am I supposed to do with silence?”—don’t worry, we’re getting there. Up next: a few practical tips on how to embrace quiet, respect introverts’ space, and maybe, just maybe, discover the joys of shutting up every once in a while.

How To Be Quiet (Without Exploding):

So, you’ve made it this far. You now know that introverts aren’t secretly miserable in silence, and you’ve accepted that not every moment needs to be filled with words. Great progress! But what now? How do you actually do quiet? How do you resist the overwhelming urge to fill every silence, drag introverts into activities, or—let’s be honest—just keep talking?

Don’t worry. I got you. Here are some practical ways to embrace quiet and, in turn, become the kind of extrovert that introverts actually enjoy being around.

1. Learn to sit with silence.

I know, I know. Silence feels weird at first. But instead of rushing to fill it, try sitting with it. Let a conversation pause without scrambling for a follow-up question. This maybe a perfect time to 'reflect' internally. Trust me, it won’t kill you.

2. Stop assuming quiet = uncomfortable.

If an introvert is sitting alone, they’re not silently begging you to rescue them. If a conversation has a lull, it doesn’t mean the vibe is ruined. If you let go of the idea that silence is awkward, you’ll realize it’s actually… peaceful.

3. Don’t force social activities on introverts.

Look, we get it—you love a good party game, group activity, or spontaneous karaoke session. Good for you. But if an introvert is clearly not interested, let them be. Stop with the “Come on, just try it!” If they wanted to, they would.

4. Lower your volume.

This one is simple. Just… talk a little softer. Not every conversation requires maximum enthusiasm, vocal projection, and hand gestures that could knock over a drink. Sometimes, a calm, normal-toned conversation is enough.

5. Respect the “Irish Exit.”

You know that moment when an introvert just disappears from the party without saying goodbye? That’s called an Irish Exit. And no, it’s not rude—it’s survival. If they’ve had enough socializing for the day, respect it. No dramatic “Where are you going?!” Just let them slip away in peace.

6. Be mindful of personal space.

Some extroverts love physical touch—hugs, shoulder pats, leaning in close. Introverts? Not always. Before you invade an introvert’s bubble, read the room. If they stiffen up when you go in for a hug, maybe… don’t.

7. Give introverts time to warm up.

Introverts don’t always jump into conversations with the same energy as extroverts. Instead of bombarding them with questions or expecting instant engagement, let them ease into it. The more comfortable they feel, the more likely they are to actually want to interact.

8. Accept that “No” is a complete sentence.

If an introvert declines an invitation, don’t push. Don’t guilt-trip. Don’t launch into “But why not? It’ll be so much fun!” Just accept the answer and move on. They’ll appreciate you for it.

9. Text first. Always.

Before calling, or video calling, or just showing up, send a text. Give the introvert a chance to mentally prepare. Unannounced social interaction is a crime against introverts, punishable by days (or even months) of avoidance.

10. Try doing something quiet for a change.

Instead of planning yet another loud, high-energy gathering, try a low-key activity—reading in the same room, watching a movie without constant commentary, or just taking a quiet walk. You might be surprised how much you enjoy it.

At the end of the day, this isn’t about changing who you are. It’s just about recognizing that not everyone thrives in constant noise and interaction. Respecting introverts’ need for quiet isn’t just about making them comfortable—it’s also a chance for you to experience a different kind of peace.

So, take a deep breath. Embrace the silence. And maybe, just maybe, learn to enjoy the sound of nothing.

A torn jacket belongs to someone else

Smells like old spice and sweat

Giving me all the warmth needed to survive this lonely, cold night

While I dream of the dream.

An overused t-shirt, 

So big, it could fit both of us…scent of tears and ocean

Hugged me in those nights

You were too busy to look at the starts

A second-hand copy of my favorite book

With blemish yellow pages and taste of old monk

Provided me with the comfort, I was looking in you

While I sleep, in the lap of clouds

 The light is what guides you home, the warmth is what keeps you there. - Ellie Rodriguez

A messy hair bun, a laptop, an overused notepad, a mobile with a Joker back cover, and a blue pen, this has been my life for the last 3 years. No matter where I am, these treasures never leave me to take a hard day alone or to smile with me on the sunny ones.

I am sitting on my bed, thinking about squeezing in some workout (well, thinking about it for the last 5 years, still haven’t started) while a familiar face is smiling at me. Mr. Khan (The King Khan), has been there on my wardrobe for as long as I could remember, and he has never failed to make me feel good about myself, even on those days, when I can’t even get out of bed.

This bed, this wardrobe with Shahrukh pic on it, used to be my home, not my room, but home. However, last few years, there is a thought in the back of my mind, hiding in the dark corner, peeping from time to time.

And finally decided to address it head-on.

Where is my Home?

Since I could remember, the room, I had in our old, dampy, half-broken railways quarter was my world. I had an old radio. I used to listen to Radio-Mirchi nonstop on it. My favorite show was when they used to play old Hindi songs (I forgot the show's name). I loved that tiny corner beside the radio, listening to songs, dreaming of dreams, and hoping for a place of my own to call HOME.

That dampy room was the witness to all my firsts, endless chatter with friends, my first journaling, first love, first heartbreak, my exams, sleepless night, and on and on.

And then the inevitable came, I left my hometown; Kolkata, to pursue my MBA in Hyderabad. I stayed in college hostels, and working women’s hostels, and shared a flat with roommates. But never, ever, I felt at home.

Then I got married, and rented beautiful flats for living, still, what was the thing missing…I still couldn’t figure it out. It’s like…

I have been to the unknown and felt most lost when I reached home.

No matter how comfy the bed is, and how familiar the faces were, I was not home. I have taken deep dives into the darkest corners of my mind, yet could never find an answer to the ever-haunting question…where is home?

I am still looking for my home, and I have no idea….

what is it or where is it or never the less who it is?

Over the years I have realized, my home was that corner beside the old shabby radio, my home was the salty torn bedsheet, the picture of Shahrukh.

What I have been looking for, for the last 13 years is not an address, but rather a warm cozy hug from you (Who are you?) to drench my soul with love.

The teenage girl, in that homey little corner, with stars and moon in her eyes listening to “yeh tera ghar, yeh mera ghar”, will not stop, until she finds her home, no matter where it is or who it is.  

“I am homesick for a place I am not sure ever exists. One where my heart is full. And my soul is understood. I am homesick for you my LOVE”

It’s too much, 

Thing after a thing

Drowning in this black hot coffee, not enough

Being in that super-hero suit is not good anymore

Golden liquid doesn’t burn me as it used to.

The smoke coming out of my lungs are a voiceless scream

Living life in break and escape rooms are…well, not living

Holding my breath so I can breathe one day is merely surviving

My shivering frozen heart waiting for you seems like a lifetime

I forgot what is normalcy 

Hiding behind the sound of my bluetooth seems exhausting

The dark cozy room fails to provide comfort

Writing about it doesn't vent as it used to

The sound of your voice is lightyear far...

It’s just too much, 

Thing after a thing, and a thing 

Have you ever been told - ‘You are too sensitive’ by people you consider as friends and family? That you over-react to things and situations?

If your answer is yes, then this post is for you.

If you have said it to someone close to you, then this post is for you too!

Photo Credit: Brighter Places

What does it feel like?

To be told that what you experienced moments earlier, never happened.
To be told that everything is only in your head.
To be told that you were being too emotional.
To be told that you were over-reacting.
To be told that you were the one forgetting things.
To be told that you were not good enough for anything.
To be told that you were too stupid to ever succeed.
To be told that you were a waste of space and a terrible drain on resources.
To be told that you couldn't take a joke after constant body shaming.
To be told that it wasn't their intention to hurt you while repeating the same thing for the 100th time.
To be told that it was your fault that you were hurting.

Everyday…
For months…
For years…
For close to a decade!

At first I fought. I took it up as challenge. I tried to prove them wrong. 
But how does one fight something that is being planted in their mind and doesn't actually exist? How does one win a challenge that shouldn't have been placed at all? How does one prove something that shouldn't need to be proven in the first place? 
And how long does one have to fight (alone) and keep proving things?

I am sure I knew the answer while growing up. But then I fell in love - Yes, Blindly! - and lost my way in the tornado that my life was. Constantly working. From the moment I woke up, till I crashed into my bed.

Working (from home) a job, handling a household and shouldering the responsibility and welfare of 6 other fully grown adults, day after day… Working up to 18 hours a day to deal with everything (and never less than 12 hours a day) to be able to take care of all the responsibilities that were suppose to shared by your life partner, (yet you find yourself handling them alone) - 7 days a week and 365 days a year is bound to have some effect on a human being. Everyone knows that, right? Apparently not everyone.

Cooking, cleaning, meetings, and promotional activities - constantly laced with comments and rebukes that aimed at reducing the family nurturer, the 'ghar ki Lakshmi' in to something less than a sentient being still happens in the 21st Century.

All that along with intermittent love-bombing!

You go into a shell - the survival mode. Always being prepared and trying to reduce any chances of triggering another round of 'how useless you are tirade'. You start to dim that spark, that is so eternally you, so that every one else is under the spotlight while you hide in the shadowed corner. You do not let the spotlight be ever on you - even though it is your story, your life! Shrinking into a ball, not taking up space and yet making it easier for people to kick around.

And should you dare to question it, i.e., if you still have some semblance of self left, and ask why - the society around you (some even in guise of friends) will gather to remind you that all you are good for is to keep your mouth shut, adjust and compromise. A 'failure of a being' has no right to ask questions. You only get to continue to try and prove your worth in exchange of being 'allowed' to breathe.

Would you consider stop breathing if that is the only way to end the hurt and pain?

Many do!

But there is another way… Stand up, break the invisible shackles and walk away! 

(read invisible shackles as: expectations forced on you by those close to you and the society; the constant self doubt drilled into you; the crippling fear you feel; the unshakeable belief that you cannot make it on your own; the anxiety of how could ever do anything right on your own; the mind blowing concept of what will people say… in short - whatever it is that is holding you back in a life that is slowly sucking your spirit out.) 

It is hard! The hardest thing you will probably do... When you finally have had enough, and realise that staying on will eventually kill you, much before your time; and when other people will reiterate that all you can do is stay and compromise. Try and remember, that there ARE people who will support you and help you... So, keep at it till you find someone who'll throw the life jacket when you are drowning. And then, swim... swim for the shore - your life!

And it starts getting better almost immediately.

Its been over a year since I walked out… And, now all I know is what it feels like…

To be told that you are strong.
To be told that you are a heck of a fighter to have survived.
To be told that you are worth more than ten of them.
To be told that you are loving and caring.
To be told that you have a right to take up space.
To be told that you deserve to have your needs met.
To be told that you are inspiring.
To be told that you have an amazing sense of humour.
To be told that you are a responsible person.
To be told that your are a logical and practical person.
To be told that you are loved.
To be told that you are seen.
To be told that you are cherished.
To be told that you are wanted and desired.

It is good for your body. It is good for your mind. AND, it is the most liberating thing for your spirit.