Stuck Voyage of 20's

(Some truths arrive quietly, but once they do — you can never go back to before.)

Truth has a strange way of revealing itself.

It's like a puzzle — scattered pieces that don't make sense until they suddenly do.

And once the picture forms, you can't unsee it.

Avantika was in her early 20s now, no longer the eight-year-old girl tucked in the corner with her math notebook. But some things hadn't changed. She still had that quiet discipline, that intense focus, that hunger to understand the world through the safety of logic and books.

From the very beginning, she had always stood out — the girl who chose storybooks over skipping ropes, and equations over games. While other kids ran out to play in the evenings, Avantika stayed indoors, curled up in a corner with a novel or her math problems, completely content.

She was always the "teacher's pet" — sharp, polite, and always first in class. Some classmates admired her. Others rolled their eyes. But Avantika never really cared.

---

One Diwali, when the house buzzed with color and noise, Avantika sat cross-legged on her bed, solving math problems while others made rangolis in the courtyard.

Her father, Devendra Thakur, watched from the doorway — a tray of sweets in one hand, his forehead creased in amusement.

He stepped in quietly and ruffled her hair.

> "Avu beta, come on. It's Diwali! How come you're here doing math while everyone else is decorating the house?"

She looked up, puzzled by the question.

> "But I am enjoying, Papa," she said, pencil in hand. "What's better than solving sums on a holiday? Why waste time making rangolis when they'll be gone tomorrow? But the things I learn today — they'll stay with me forever. This is what will help me in life, right?"

Her tiny voice was serious, her logic unshakable.

> "Also, please tell Mama not to call me to play with firecrackers in the evening. These people don't even realise how badly they pollute the environment," she added with a dramatic sigh.

Devendra chuckled, half-impressed and half-concerned.

> "As you wish, Madam Environmentalist Mathematician," he teased. "I'll tell everyone to stay away from your mission to save the planet — one equation at a time."

He bent down and kissed her forehead.

> "My little weirdo," he whispered fondly.

That evening, he realized something profound — he'd never have to worry about her grades. But maybe… just maybe, he'd need to teach her how to enjoy life too.

---

As Avantika grew up, her love for books only deepened. She excelled in all subjects — except one: sports. Running, jumping, even stretching during P.E. felt like punishment. She despised outdoor games and found no thrill in physical activity.

Where others found energy, she found exhaustion.

Over time, her world grew smaller. More internal. She preferred quiet over crowds, solo walks over group chats. By the time she entered her 20s, her mother began to notice something — Avantika wasn't just introverted anymore. She seemed withdrawn.

One Sunday evening, while Avantika stirred tea in the kitchen, her mother, Phalguni, finally asked.

> "Avu beta, are you alright? You've been avoiding people lately. You don't go out anymore, and even during family get-togethers, you look... uncomfortable."

Avantika didn't look up.

> "There's nothing wrong, Maa. I just find it harder these days… to talk to people. It's like… I don't know what to say. I don't feel that spark anymore."

Phalguni tilted her head. "But you were never like this. You were the first to stay in touch with everyone. What's happened now? Look at the other girls your age — they're all out having fun. You can't spend your life hiding behind tea and textbooks."

Avantika exhaled. A long, tired sigh.

> "I don't know, Maa. Sometimes I just want to leave the room the moment someone walks in. And if anyone talks to me, I feel like... like covering my face and running away. I don't know what's wrong with me."

Phalguni blinked.

> "Beta, are you getting your PMS? Or maybe it's just hormonal. Don't worry — every girl feels like this at some point. You'll be fine soon."

She smiled, patted Avantika's cheek, and walked away, humming an old song.

But Avantika stood there frozen.

> "It is serious, Maa," she whispered under her breath. "This isn't PMS. This isn't just a mood swing. It's something deeper. And I don't even have the words for it."

That evening, something inside her shifted.

---

For the first time, Avantika questioned the life she had built.

Books had been her refuge, her safety net. But now, that net felt like a trap.

She didn't know how to exist beyond her achievements.

She didn't know how to feel — not with people, not with herself.

The delusion that adulthood was simple, structured, and achievement-driven… was fading.

She wasn't lost in her studies anymore.

She was just… lost.

She realized that being an adult didn't mean having it all figured out.

It meant carrying questions — and learning how to sit with them.

This phase of her life was more than confusion.

It was a truth-revealing chapter.

Her first lesson in the eternal verities — the quiet, undeniable truths that life doesn't allow you to ignore:

That even the adults are still figuring things out.

That it's okay to feel stuck.

That strength is not always loud — and weakness is not always failure.

The puzzle was only beginning to come together.

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