Me Yakshu

 I walked through a life filled with obstacles, each one rising like a wall before me. Some were built by circumstances, some by people who doubted me, and some by my own fears. At times, I stumbled and at times I broke, but each fall carved a lesson into me. The tears I shed were not signs of weakness; they were silent chapters of my becoming. Pain forged my determination, and doubt sharpened my inner voice. Everyone around me had a version of what my life should look like. They offered maps, advice, and judgments, but none of them matched the fire that burned within me. So, I refused their versions and began to frame my own.

My path was not smooth; it was filled with storms, thorns, and shadows that tried to crush my spirit. People demanded proof of my progress. They wanted results, validation, and explanations. But I learned that my journey is not a performance to satisfy their eyes. It is mine—every stone laid by my effort, every direction chosen by my instinct, every scar a signature of my resilience. I realized that I do not need to justify the way I walk, because it was never meant to be theirs to understand.

After many obstacles, I stood on the road I built with my own hands. It may not look like anyone else’s, but it carries my truth. I framed this path, not to prove a point, but to honor my fire, my choices, and my strength. And that is enough, because it is mine.

Yakshu’s Story

Yakshu was born into a world that already had a script written for her. From her earliest days, she was framed within the visions of society. Relatives whispered what she should become, neighbors watched how she behaved, and her family, without malice, drew invisible circles around her life. The circle was gentle at first, disguised as love, tradition, and guidance. Yet with time, it became a cage—one that dictated what was right for her, what was wrong for her, and what dreams were acceptable.

She smiled through it all, carrying the weight of unspoken expectations. At school, she was told to be brilliant, but not too bold. At home, she was asked to dream, but only within boundaries. Her choices were measured not by her desires, but by what others would say. Slowly, she began to lose her voice under the noise of opinions. Society’s version of her life was loud; her own version was silent.

But silence does not mean absence. Deep inside, Yakshu nurtured a fire that no cage could extinguish. The more she was pulled into the family’s circle of “should” and “must,” the stronger her spirit grew. Every obstacle—every restriction, every judgment—became fuel. She realized that if she didn’t step out, she would never truly live. And so, she chose to fight—not with rebellion, but with resilience.

Yakshu fought quietly at first. She educated herself beyond what was offered. She questioned rules that never made sense. She stood firm when her choices were dismissed. With every small step, she carved space for her own identity. People doubted, criticized, and tried to drag her back into the familiar circle. But Yakshu no longer feared their shadows. She knew her path was not theirs to define.

Her victory was not about proving them wrong; it was about proving herself right. She framed her journey out of courage, not compliance. The path she created did not resemble the society’s vision—it resembled her. She became what she was always meant to be: a girl who turned obstacles into stepping stones, and expectations into lessons.

Yakshu’s story is not about escape—it is about becoming. She showed that no circle, however strong, can contain a soul that knows its own fire. And when she stood tall, not for validation but for truth, the world saw not just a girl, but a force who chose her destiny.