My Writing Journey: The Story That Took Four Years and Found Its Voice Internationally
My writing journey with my first non-fiction book, The Death Within, began with uncertainty filled with silence. A silence that was rather crammed with unheard-of screams hailing from the brunt of the imposed societal beliefs and status queues. In 2019, I sat in front of my laptop with a blank page in a Word document, a heart full of questions, and a mind unsure if my thoughts would ever take the shape of a book. But the seed of my writing journey had already been planted a year earlier—during one of the darkest and most unforgettable chapters of my life.
The story begins in 2018, while I was pursuing my master’s studies in India. I lived in a university hostel where a heart-wrenching tragedy struck twice. In 2018 and 2019, two 18-year-old computer science students—bright, full of dreams—put an end to their own lives, one after the other. I still remember the hallways they walked, the rooms where they studied, and the quiet loneliness that lingered behind their smiles. Their absence, however, left an echo in the hostel so that I could not escape.
My Indian friend, Hardik, shared the story of one of them, who was his best friend, and it broke me in ways I cannot fully describe. It was a story I did not want to hear, yet it was one I could never forget. I kept asking myself, “Why couldn’t the world see their silent pain?” That invisible weight, that hidden sorrow, was what I came to call “the death within.”
In 2019, I was finally inclined to write so as to escape from the inner suffering I was enduring within. What started as an attempt to process grief slowly became something larger. The Death Within was never just a book—it was my way of exploring the unspoken struggles people carry, the quiet battles fought in isolation, and the human need for empathy. Writing became my refuge, my way of listening to the pain that words often fail to capture.
The journey was long and demanding. For almost four years, I wrote and rewrote, carrying those stories with me. Many nights, I wondered if any of it would matter to anyone beyond myself. Yet, a quiet voice kept telling me to continue. I held on to the belief that things of value are only valued where they are truly meant to be.
Then came July 26, 2025—a day that felt like the closing of a circle. In Phoenix, Arizona, I held the International Impact Book Award for The Death Within in my hands. In that moment, I thought of those two young students of Hardik’s voice sharing their story, of the long nights I spent staring at my laptop in silence. That award was not just recognition—it was a tribute to the quiet persistence, the unspoken pain, and the hope that someone, somewhere, would listen.
The Death Within began as a whisper from a painful memory. Today, it has become a voice that carries meaning. This journey taught me that the most profound stories are born not from ambition but from the courage to sit with grief, to understand it, and to share it. After years of patience, reflection, and hope, my story has finally found its place.
