Home – A Reflection in Chaotic Time

Ladies and gentlemen, tragedies unfold every day—yet what we see and hear is curated by the media. They decide what gets coverage, driven by the promise of TRPs. And unfortunately, we’ve become conditioned to respond only to what trends. I'm not a sensationalist reporter here to deliver breaking news, nor am I trying to dramatize this post. If there’s emotion, blame the heart.

Have you picked up a newspaper recently? Surely, “Game of Thrones” isn’t the only conversation happening at your workplace watercooler. Flip through any daily and you're bound to find pain—accidents, deaths, medical mishaps, or yet another looming pandemic. There’s grief. And then there’s life.

But do we really celebrate life? Not often. You know who does? Cancer patients. They celebrate life in ways many of us forget to. That’s what brings me to the point of this piece: Home.

Today, home feels like the safest place in the world—our haven, our escape, our constant. In a world shaken by airline crashes, terrorism, kidnappings, rape, and honour killings, unpredictability has become our only certainty. One moment, you're sharing breakfast with your family, and the next—who knows?

I don't intend to sound pessimistic. But how did we reach a place where expressing freedom became dangerous? How do we justify killing in the name of religion? And why do good people often leave too soon? These are questions with no real answers—only heartbreak and empty attempts to make sense of chaos.

But it’s made me think: Life must be celebrated. Not clung to out of fear, but truly lived.

For me, every time I turn the key and step into my home, I feel an overwhelming sense of peace. It’s my sanctuary—safe, comforting, imperfectly perfect (nagging mom included). It holds love, warmth, food, and best of all—my bed.

And speaking of love—making love, giving love, receiving love—it’s what we all long for, often silently. It’s not unity, peace, or even religion that binds us in joy or in grief. It’s love. Always has been. Love is the only poison we willingly consume. It doesn’t come with a price tag or a prescription.

This post is dedicated to insert future tragedy or global heartbreak here. I hope, in some small way, it brings you comfort—and a reminder that love and home are still the two safest places we can hold on to.