“I’m Mahasweta, born and brought up in namma Chennai. Both my parents are Telugu, but they too were born here, so Chennai runs deep in our veins. My dad was 38 when he got married, my mom just 21. She married young to escape a cruel family, but fate wasn’t kind, she found herself in another toxic home. My childhood was filled with the sounds of arguments and the sight of my mother’s quiet endurance. There were nights I begged my father to stop hurting her, moments that etched themselves deep into who I am today.

When I was born, my dad got a government job in another city, so it was just me and my mom here in Chennai. She raised me single-handedly, playing both roles, mother and father, with fierce love. She gave me everything she never had: freedom, laughter, and security. She was more like my best friend than my parent. There was no mall, beach, movie theatre, or restaurant in this city we hadn’t visited together. From long walks on Marina to movie marathons and our usual ice cream stops, she made sure my childhood was filled with joy even amidst all the chaos.

She was the kind of mom who dropped me off for my first date, laughed at my silly jokes, and made every friend of mine fall in love with her warmth. Everyone adored her because she radiated strength and kindness. She’d always say, “I’ll never leave you alone with your father,” and I believed her. Until one Thursday in January 2018, when everything changed.

I was 18. I had just returned from a college exam, calling out to her from outside the house. She didn’t respond. I panicked and called my dad. We broke open the door and found her hanging in the hall. My world collapsed in that instant. The person who taught me to live, love, and laugh was gone. The pain was indescribable. My heart shattered into pieces I’ll never be able to put back together.

For a long time, I couldn’t understand why. She was my strongest person, my entire world. But over time, I realised even the strongest people can break silently. I had to learn to live without her, to rebuild myself from the ashes of that moment. Money was tight, life felt empty, and grief felt endless, but somehow, I survived. Ironically, she continued to protect me even after she left. Her life insurance helped me get back on my feet, pay my bills, and start my journey toward independence.

In 2020, I was diagnosed with lymph node tuberculosis. My dad tried to be there for me, but our relationship has always been distant, cold, and complicated. He’s a part of my story, but not the part that defines me. Through those years, I learned to depend on myself. Therapy became my refuge. I started healing, slowly, painfully, but steadily. I became deeply aware of mental health, of what silence can do to people.

Then, in July 2025, life tested me again. I was diagnosed with tuberculosis in my brain. For a moment, it felt like the universe was repeating history. But this time, I wasn’t alone in my fight. I had people around me who cared, who listened, who stayed. I’ve learned that life is unpredictable, but so is strength. Sometimes, it comes from the darkest places.

Today, I may not have achieved everything I once dreamed of, but I have peace. I have empathy. I have resilience. I am proud of the woman I’ve become, someone who chooses kindness even after being surrounded by cruelty, someone who gives love even when life tried to take it away.

And through all this, Chennai has always been my anchor. I spent 23 years in Lloyds Colony, Royapettah. Those neighbors were family. We shared food, laughter, and festivals like one big home. Even today, they call on my birthday, reminding me that some bonds don’t fade with time. That little colony has seen everything, my laughter, my tears, my mother’s courage, and my becoming.

Whenever I think of Chennai, I think of that colony, of mom’s laughter echoing through those narrow streets, of the sea breeze carrying her memory back to me.

Lloyds Colony, Royapettah, Chennai 14, that’s not just an address. It’s the heart of my story. The place that made me. The place that saved me. The place that reminds me that no matter how hard life gets, love, real love, never really leaves you.”