Sneha S

Day after day, I worked—monotonous, mechanical—earning, surviving, yet starving the soul. Somewhere between playing the dutiful daughter, the devoted sibling, I lost the woman who danced with colors, weaved melodies, and devoured books like oxygen. I, who once reveled in the poetry of nature, yoga’s quiet wisdom, and the art of creation, had faded into routine. Cooking, planning adventures, spinning stories, nurturing friendships—these were the vibrant threads of a life I abandoned.

But no more.

This journey into art is my rebellion, my resurrection. A love letter to the missing soul within me. A quiet, defiant whisper: 'At every end, life begins again.