White No brother's wrist to tie the thread, But still, we weave our bonds instead. Mothers, sisters, grandmothers too, In every heart, the promise grew. For every girl who walks this path, Through sun and storm, and shadow’s wrath, We stand as one, a sacred vow— To lift each other, here and now. We guard our hearts, our dreams, our place, In this world we leave a trace. A bond not bound by blood alone, But through the strength we’ve always shown. So here's to us, to all we bear, With love and grace beyond compare. In every thread, our stories blend, As women, let our spirits mend. ©twisha ray

twisha ray

Healing is a profound journey of recovery and growth, both physically and emotionally. It involves acknowledging pain, embracing vulnerability, and allowing oneself the time and space to mend. True healing transforms challenges into wisdom, and setbacks into opportunities for renewed strength. Remember, each step forward, no matter how small, is progress. As you heal, you are not just restoring yourself but also building resilience and hope. Embrace the process with patience and self-compassion. True healing is not just the absence of pain, but the transformation of it into strength. Embrace your journey with courage and patience, for each step forward is a victory in itself. ©twisha ray

twisha ray

Silence is the loudest scream. It is the unspoken words, the hidden emotions, and the suppressed thoughts that echo through the void. In a world where noise is constant, silence can be deafening. It is the quiet desperation, the stillness of a storm, and the calm before the chaos. In silence, the mind screams with a thousand unspoken words, a thousand untold stories, and a thousand unshed tears. It is the sound of the heart beating with a mix of fear, anger, and sadness. Silence is not the absence of noise, but the presence of emotions so intense, they cannot be expressed. Yet, in this silence, there is power. The power to listen, to reflect, and to heal. The power to find strength in the stillness, and courage in the quiet. For in the silence, we find the loudest scream of all – the scream of our true selves, yearning to be heard, to be seen, and to be free. ©twisha ray

twisha ray

White How long will Indian girls suffer in silence? Their voices suppressed, their dreams dismissed. Their bodies bound by societal chains, Their minds shackled by patriarchal pains. How long will they be treated as less than equal? Their rights denied, their futures unreal. Their laughter muted, their tears unseen, Their stories untold, their souls unclean. How long will they be forced to hide their face? Their identity erased, their autonomy replaced. Their choices dictated, their paths predetermined, Their lives controlled, their spirits diminished. But still they rise, they resist, they fight, For a future where they can shine with all their light. Where they can live without fear or shame, Where they can be themselves, free from blame. They march with candles, a beacon of hope, A symbol of resistance, a refusal to cope. With every step, they claim their space, With every voice, they break the chains of oppression's pace. How long? Not much longer, the time is near, When equality and justice will banish fear. When Indian girls will rise, and their voices will be heard, And their stories will be told, and their dreams will be unfurled. ©twisha ray

twisha ray

August's embrace, a paradox of fate, Warmth and chaos, intertwined like a twisted state, Sun-kissed days, that swiftly turn to night, Unpredictable winds, that leave us in their sight. One moment calm, the next, a raging storm, August's mood swings, leave us forever torn, Between the serenity of a summer's breeze, And the turmoil of a tempest's wild release. The air is thick, with an electric charge, As thunder booms, and lightning flashes large, The skies grow dark, with a foreboding hue, As August's unpredictability, our senses renew. Yet, in this turmoil, lies a beauty rare, A time of transformation, beyond compare, For in the heart of August's unpredictable soul, Lies a power that makes our spirits whole. So let the storms rage on, and the sun shine bright, For in August's unpredictability, we find our light, A time of growth, of change, of life anew, In the midst of chaos, our true selves shine through ©twisha ray

twisha ray

White No brother's wrist to tie the thread, But still, we weave our bonds instead. Mothers, sisters, grandmothers too, In every heart, the promise grew. For every girl who walks this path, Through sun and storm, and shadow’s wrath, We stand as one, a sacred vow— To lift each other, here and now. We guard our hearts, our dreams, our place, In this world we leave a trace. A bond not bound by blood alone, But through the strength we’ve always shown. So here's to us, to all we bear, With love and grace beyond compare. In every thread, our stories blend, As women, let our spirits mend. ©twisha ray

twisha ray

Healing is a profound journey of recovery and growth, both physically and emotionally. It involves acknowledging pain, embracing vulnerability, and allowing oneself the time and space to mend. True healing transforms challenges into wisdom, and setbacks into opportunities for renewed strength. Remember, each step forward, no matter how small, is progress. As you heal, you are not just restoring yourself but also building resilience and hope. Embrace the process with patience and self-compassion. True healing is not just the absence of pain, but the transformation of it into strength. Embrace your journey with courage and patience, for each step forward is a victory in itself. ©twisha ray

twisha ray

Silence is the loudest scream. It is the unspoken words, the hidden emotions, and the suppressed thoughts that echo through the void. In a world where noise is constant, silence can be deafening. It is the quiet desperation, the stillness of a storm, and the calm before the chaos. In silence, the mind screams with a thousand unspoken words, a thousand untold stories, and a thousand unshed tears. It is the sound of the heart beating with a mix of fear, anger, and sadness. Silence is not the absence of noise, but the presence of emotions so intense, they cannot be expressed. Yet, in this silence, there is power. The power to listen, to reflect, and to heal. The power to find strength in the stillness, and courage in the quiet. For in the silence, we find the loudest scream of all – the scream of our true selves, yearning to be heard, to be seen, and to be free. ©twisha ray

twisha ray

White How long will Indian girls suffer in silence? Their voices suppressed, their dreams dismissed. Their bodies bound by societal chains, Their minds shackled by patriarchal pains. How long will they be treated as less than equal? Their rights denied, their futures unreal. Their laughter muted, their tears unseen, Their stories untold, their souls unclean. How long will they be forced to hide their face? Their identity erased, their autonomy replaced. Their choices dictated, their paths predetermined, Their lives controlled, their spirits diminished. But still they rise, they resist, they fight, For a future where they can shine with all their light. Where they can live without fear or shame, Where they can be themselves, free from blame. They march with candles, a beacon of hope, A symbol of resistance, a refusal to cope. With every step, they claim their space, With every voice, they break the chains of oppression's pace. How long? Not much longer, the time is near, When equality and justice will banish fear. When Indian girls will rise, and their voices will be heard, And their stories will be told, and their dreams will be unfurled. ©twisha ray

twisha ray

August's embrace, a paradox of fate, Warmth and chaos, intertwined like a twisted state, Sun-kissed days, that swiftly turn to night, Unpredictable winds, that leave us in their sight. One moment calm, the next, a raging storm, August's mood swings, leave us forever torn, Between the serenity of a summer's breeze, And the turmoil of a tempest's wild release. The air is thick, with an electric charge, As thunder booms, and lightning flashes large, The skies grow dark, with a foreboding hue, As August's unpredictability, our senses renew. Yet, in this turmoil, lies a beauty rare, A time of transformation, beyond compare, For in the heart of August's unpredictable soul, Lies a power that makes our spirits whole. So let the storms rage on, and the sun shine bright, For in August's unpredictability, we find our light, A time of growth, of change, of life anew, In the midst of chaos, our true selves shine through ©twisha ray

twisha ray