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Renuka Goria Books

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“When two people talk, their words live within a shared space—shaped by trust, tone, timing, and all the unsaid things between them. Pull those words out of that space, twist them around, strip them of their setting—and to me, that feels like a betrayal. It’s not just misunderstanding; it’s a kind of violence. Literalists scare me—not because they’re wrong, but because they refuse to see beyond the surface. They flatten meaning, ignore nuance, and use language to serve their own narrow views. Context isn’t a footnote—it’s the heart of everything.”

“The events happening in our life are random, we attach meaning to them, give reasons to justify why it happened, to save ourselves from drowning into madness. What compels me to make peace with this truth is the injustice that prevails all over the world, in private or public sphere. I don’t think if there is a God, amongst us or in Heaven, He will silently tolerate the pain and suffering of good, let them be massacred ruthlessly, while the evil flourishes and prospers. In this hopeless world where everything seems meaningless, the intended hope of religion to provide stability, contentment, and harmony has failed, and it itself lead the whole existence into unending vicious cycle of hatred and chaos.”

“We are yet to comprehend the unexplainable buried deep into the unreachable abysses of our minds. Something—swerving inside—which deprives you of peace even when you feel content with the life you have, something which casts the stormy dark clouds over your existence, something which devours your tranquility like a black hole does to whatever inches towards it. Incessant struggle with the lurking demons makes you realise your powerlessness, coercing you to make peace with the inconspicuous, the unexplainable, the inseparable embed within you. And it gradually thrives enshrouding the purpose of your existence.”

“Normalising and neglecting “mental suffering” has become a norm of our normal society. Shattered soul— a misfit, sadistic, lonely, depressed—is thrown into dark, chaotic dungeons to keep the society safe and sane. Isn’t it ironical? The normal society, which labels you as an abnormal—shamelessly discredits you, alienates you—exiles you—destroys your “self”—splits it into a labyrinth of “selves”—curses you with a specific self for specific space— leaves no choice for the helpless you, except the never-ending struggle. I think—when an individual has physical illness, we provide required medical care, if we don’t, we are “inhumane, cruel and apathetic”. Isn’t it “inhumane, cruel and apathetic”, if we neglect and normalise the mental breakdown of another individual, and just shrug it off! Think, Think, Think. When did you stop thinking? Why did you stop thinking? What made you stop thinking? How blessed you’re that your mind is at “peace”! When I started this never-ending and ever-troubling over-thinking? Why I can’t stop over-thinking? What has catalysed this over-thinking? Isn’t it a curse that my mind is never at peace!”

“Betrayal and blame often go hand in hand because when trust is broken, someone must bear the weight of responsibility. The one who is betrayed feels wronged and instinctively seeks to assign blame, whether to the betrayer or even to themselves. On the other hand, the betrayer may deflect guilt by shifting blame onto circumstances, misunderstandings, or even the victim. In this cycle, blame becomes both a consequence and a weapon, deepening wounds and making reconciliation difficult.”

“She woke up from a bad dream, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. The room was dimly lit by the early morning light seeping through the curtains. As she sat up, rubbing her eyes, she reached for her phone to call him. "Sorry for bothering you in your dream," he whispered softly, his voice a gentle balm to her frazzled nerves. Her fear slowly dissipated. "How did you know?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. He gave a small, knowing smile. "I could sense it in your voice. I just wanted to let you know I'm here." She nodded, feeling the warmth of his love wrap around her like a protective shield. "Thank you," she murmured, lying back down and letting the comfort of his words soothe her back into a peaceful sleep.”