Vedanti by Kasturi Sinha
You might be focusing too heavily on the struggles or dark aspects of mental health.While it’s important to acknowledge the challenges, balance this by emphasizing the importance of seeking help, the effectiveness of treatment, and stories of recovery. Highlighting the potential for improvement can make the tone more hopeful.
Here is a story for you:
Vedanti sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the shadows that clung to the corners of her room. They were darker tonight, more oppressive, as if they knew she was alone. She ran a hand through her hair, tugging at the strands, trying to pull herself out of the spiral that was dragging her down.Vedanti was alone, her thoughts swirling like a storm cloud. The room was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old floorboards and the ticking of a clock that seemed to echo in the stillness. The walls, once a warm beige, appeared darker now, as if they absorbed the gloom that hung in the air.
It had started as a dull ache, a heaviness in her chest that she couldn’t shake. At first, she thought it was just stress, just a bad week at her institution where she stood as a Research Scholar but the weight didn’t lift. It settled deeper, growing heavier, until it became a constant companion, whispering lies into her ear. You’re unworthy. You did the crime. You deserve the punishment. No one wants you anymore. No one would miss you if you were gone.
She tried to ignore it, to drown it out with noise and distractions, but it always found a way in. It seeped into her thoughts, tainting everything with a bitter edge. Defamation, attack on her pride, rage on her merits, allegation on her soul, accusation on top of the voice created a whirlpool of emotions within her as she was trapped in a malicious web created by a black widow. Friends became distant, authorities seemed indifferent, and soon, she was alone with her shadows under the blanket of helplessness.
Vedanti couldn’t remember the last time she felt anything other than this heavy, suffocating emptiness.She didn’t know why the darkness loomed within her. She felt lost, floating in a sea of emotions without an anchor to hold onto.It was as if a shadow had moved into her mind, filling every corner with darkness. She used to laugh, she used to care about things, but now even getting out of bed felt like an insurmountable task.The shadow had been there for a long time, lurking in the background, but it had grown stronger over the years. It fed on her doubts, her fears, and her loneliness. It whispered in her ear, telling her that she was hopeless, that no one cared, that the world would be better off without her.Vedanti tried to fight it. She tried to push the thoughts away, to fill her life with distractions, but the shadow was always there, waiting. It was patient, relentless, and every time she thought she had escaped, it would pull her back into the darkness.
Tonight was no different. The shadow’s voice was louder than ever, its grip tighter. She felt the weight of it pressing down on her chest, making it hard to breathe.“Why fight it?” the shadow whispered. “There’s nothing left for you here. Just give in, and all the pain will stop.” Vedanti closed her eyes, tears spilling down her cheeks. She was so tired. Tired of the battle, tired of pretending everything was okay. The shadow’s voice was so convincing, so soothing in its promises of peace.But somewhere deep inside, a faint spark still burned. It was small, barely more than an ember, but it was there. It was the part of her that remembered what it was like to feel alive, to feel joy. It was the part of her that still hoped, even when everything seemed hopeless.
One night, when the shadows seemed to crawl across the floor towards her, she reached a breaking point. She couldn’t do it anymore. She couldn’t fight the darkness alone. With trembling hands, she picked up her phone and typed a message, her heart pounding in her chest.
“I’m not okay. I need help.”
But rather than pressing the send button she stopped thinking, nothing and no one could help her and kept the phone on her study table. Again with a trembling hand, Vedanti reached for her phone. She scrolled through her contacts, her vision blurred by tears. The shadow tried to stop her, its voice growing frantic, but she ignored it. She found the number she was looking for and pressed the call.The phone rang, and for a moment, she thought no one would answer. But then, a voice on the other end said, “Hello?” It was a simple word, but to Vedanti, it felt like a lifeline. She broke down, sobbing into the phone, unable to form coherent sentences. But the person on the other end didn’t hang up. He stayed with her, listening, offering comfort, and in that moment, the shadow’s grip loosened, just a little.It wasn’t much, but it was enough for a small span of time. Enough to remind Vedanti that she wasn’t alone, that there were people who cared, that she still had a chance to find her way back to the light.
To anyone looking in, it was a peaceful scene. But inside Vedanti’s mind, a storm kept raging. For months, she had felt the heavy humiliation of something she couldn’t name. It started as a quiet whisper in the back of her mind, but now it was a constant roar. She would try to focus on her work, but the thoughts of inadequacy and self-doubt would intrude, louder and more insistent than before.
“Why can’t you just be normal?” the voice would say. “Everyone else manages just fine.”
Vedanti wanted to argue, to push the voice away, but it was hard to fight something that felt like it was part of her. She had tried everything—long walks, mindfulness exercises, even talking to friends—but the storm inside her head only grew.
One day, she decided to paint. She wasn’t an artist by any means, but she had always loved colors. She thought that maybe, just maybe, she could find some peace in mixing them, in creating something beautiful out of the chaos she felt. She set up a canvas and began, without any plan or design, just letting the colors flow. The first brushstrokes were hesitant, small swipes of blue and green. But as she painted, the movements became bolder, the colors more vibrant. She didn’t think; she just painted. Reds clashed with purples, yellows bled into oranges, and soon the canvas was a riot of colors. It was messy, wild, and intense—just like her mind.When she finally stepped back, she was breathless. The painting was far from perfect, but it was hers. And in that moment, she realized something important: the storm in her mind was not something she had to fight alone. It was a part of her, and she could find ways to express it, to understand it, rather than just trying to silence it.
She made an appointment with a therapist the next day. It was scary, but she knew she needed help. She needed someone to guide her through the storm, to help her find the calm within the chaos. As she walked into the therapist’s office, Vedanti felt a familiar knot of anxiety in her stomach, but she also felt something else—a flicker of hope. For the first time in a long time, she believed that things could get better, that she could find her way back to herself.The storm wasn’t over, but Vedanti was ready to face it. One brushstroke at a time, she would paint her way to peace.
The gasping shadow didn’t disappear, not entirely. It was still there, lurking, waiting for another moment of weakness. But Vedanti knew now that it didn’t have to win. She had a choice, and this time, she chose to keep fighting.
