This one Made Me Human

This month took a dirty turn.

The people I trusted — the people I genuinely loved, and I'm not talking about one person, I'm talking about a whole lot of them — turned at the same time. All of them.

I had been holding everything together until one line shattered it. If even a single cell in my body had known this was coming, I would have braced for it. But there was no warning. There are things you carry a quiet awareness of, things you're somewhat prepared for even when they happen. This was not one of those things.

Being a musician is hard. You are judged by your own people, and eventually, they hit their limit. The ones who support you today will judge you tomorrow. Not everyone has the courage to love. Not everyone wants to do things for love. Not everyone is stubborn the way you are. They are not you.

But I thought they were.

I still don't know what happened behind the scenes. But everyone who had been around me for two years — people I worked hard for, people I loved with everything I had — decided, somewhere along the way, that I was the villain. That I was the wrong one. I was simply disowned, and not a single part of my life saw it coming.

People outside India often call it the most cultural nation on earth. Let me tell you the truth: that same culture is being burned by its own people. There's no support system for artists here — no rules, no regulations, no clear path, no infrastructure, in any field of art. You have to figure it all out yourself. Living through that has always made me believe that FF should be a place where artists don't have to live this way — where the gamble isn't the only option.

Even artists fear that gamble. Art is one kind of risk. And the real world is a different, crueler thing entirely — I've been building for both at once.

There was always a fight in front of me — one that I knew. But there was another that I never saw coming — and it happened anyway.

They say pain makes the artist. This one made me human.

Like a father torn from his children. Like a husband whose wife was taken from him. The loss was that close, that personal, that family. I broke down. The tears were inevitable. The loud cries came whether I called for them or not — for a man who used to say, proudly, "I don't cry."

I do now.