Raya's Realm

It’s been 2 days since I started working as an intern in my college, and today I met a new friend, a Tamil Sri Lankan girl. During a casual conversation, she mentioned a sport she enjoyed playing back in Sri Lanka called Elle (pronounced ˈelːeː, written as எல்லே in Tamil). I had never heard of it before, and that instantly sparked my curiosity. So later, I looked it up and started reading about it and honestly, I was surprised by how interesting it turned out to be. Elle is a traditional bat-and-ball game that’s been part of Sri Lankan culture for centuries. It’s somewhat similar to cricket or baseball, but with its own set of unique rules and style. Historically, Elle was played mostly in rural areas, especially during harvest seasons or village festivals, on open grounds or paddy fields. It was more than just a sport; it was a way for people to gather, celebrate, and strengthen their community ties. Men, women, and even children participated, and it became a part of the country’s cul...

People today can be so hard to understand. Most of the time, they don’t even realize what they’re doing.. let alone what they’re trying to fix. The chaos they create? They're usually completely unaware of it. And worse, they rarely stop to think about how their actions ripple out, affecting everything around them. Wars happen across the world, and in those moments of destruction, the soldiers step forward..standing between their country and chaos. Imagine a battlefield, bomb blasts, people screaming, bloodshed, smoke rising, and an atmosphere soaked in grief. Even after the war ends, the damage lingers. Recovering, both physical and emotional takes time. But a soldier chooses this path. They make a conscious decision to fight for their land, knowing the cost. Now, imagine a different kind of war. One with no guns, no borders, and no orders. A war that rages quietly, every single day. A war not against nations, but against the self. In the middle of this silent battlefield stands a ...

This morning, I had a dream. A disturbing one. A lorry carrying jackfruits was climbing a steep, 45-degree bridge. Suddenly, it lost control due to overweight and tumbled down, killing several people. I saw the crash, the panic, the screams, and a strange weight in my chest that followed me even after I woke up. I shook it off thinking that it's just a random nightmare. But then I saw the newspaper this afternoon and I was literally shocked to see what was waiting for me..  On the morning of July 14, 2025, in Andhra Pradesh, a lorry loaded with mangoes overturned on a steep slope in Annamayya district, crushing nine people to death and injuring over ten others. It was hauntingly similar to my dream. A heavy fruit-laden lorry with mangoes instead of jackfruits. A steep terrain. A sudden crash. Lives lost. I didn’t watch the news. I didn’t read anything beforehand. I had no way of knowing this would happen. Yet my mind dreamt it... hours before it occurred. I kept asking ...

It was the time when I boarded public transport from my native town to reach Chennai. I couldn’t find a seat on the bus, but a lady with her husband was willing to offer one. Having no other hope of finding another seat, I sat next to her. She seemed to be a woman in her 50s and her husband in his mid-50s too. As per my usual habit, I plugged in my headphones and began listening to music. The divine flow of melodies filled my ears, until she suddenly interrupted it. I assumed she had something important to say. But instead, she asked about my whereabouts... my native and the place I was traveling to. I answered a few of her questions but didn’t mention exactly where I was from. She seemed a bit of an extrovert, but I’m not. The lady looked somewhat fat, but her husband was the complete opposite. I didn’t have even an inch of space to set myself free on that seat, so I stretched my hand out to hold onto the metal bar near me in order to maintain my posture. Then again, I took my headpho...

When the world goes silent and our eyes close, another begins...a world unfiltered, uncensored, and deeply honest. Dreams are not just random visuals... they are the secret diaries of our souls. In the stillness of sleep, the emotions we locked away in our heart find their voice. Regret walks beside us, fear becomes a shadow, and joy paints rainbows and skies. This post isn't just about dreams, it's about the truths we dare not speak, the wounds we try to hide, and the heart's quiet cry for release. Last night, my mind painted a scene I can't shake off...a dream, or maybe something more. It started in a classroom, familiar yet oddly silent. I was sitting next to my close friend, Jez. We weren't just classmates...we were observers, characters in a dream unraveling quietly, like a thread being pulled from the edge of a sweater. Across the room, I noticed someone....my past best friend. My best friend from the 5th grade. I don't speak to her anymore because we had ...

Public transport has always been a space where strangers share fleeting moments of their daily lives, some lost in thought, others immersed in their devices, and many just trying to get through the journey. On this particular day, as I squeezed into the overcrowded bus on my way to college, I was mildly disappointed about not securing a window seat. Resigned to standing, I let my gaze wander, observing the people around me. That’s when I noticed her, a woman, likely in her mid-30s, boarding with her two young children. Wanting to ease her burden in the packed bus, I offered to hold her child’s school bag and continued listening to my music. But in the midst of the ordinary, something disturbing caught my eye. A man standing ahead of me was sneakily taking inappropriate photos of the woman and posting them somewhere. A surge of anger and disgust filled me. My instinct was to call him out, to expose what he was doing. But then came hesitation—what if no one believed me? What if I became ...