Emotional Icebergs

We Are All Icebergs, my friend. But some of us are just cooler than others.

Let me put it plainly: we are all walking, talking, tea-sipping icebergs. What people see of us? Just the tip. A polite nod, a half-smile, maybe a good shirt on a good day. But below that? oh ho! Below that is a whole bloody Antarctic continent of chaos, silence, and secrets that would make your mother faint and your therapist rich.

You think you know someone because they said 'Hi' at a wedding or liked your Instagram post? Darling, that’s like judging a book by its barcode.

Most of our social life is surface-level nonsense. Those handshakes, air kisses, birthday cakes... Beneath all that are rooms locked tighter than the neighbour’s liquor cabinet during prohibition.

And who built these secret chambers inside us? We did. With the bricks of childhood traumas, unspoken crushes, failed diets, and those dreams we quietly bury next to our grandma’s silverware.

We wear our 'acceptable' faces like we wear socks ..out of habit and hygiene. After a while, we forget we ever had toes.

And Families? yes, those lovely, loving strangers we grow up with. Papa(s) who express affection by offering you a second helping of curry, Amma(s) who communicate existential grief through overcooked dal. Children, meanwhile, are busy cultivating emotional bonsai trees in corners that no one visits.

Let's not forget .. Marriage. It's advertised as a sacred journey of discovery. But more often than not, it’s just two people expertly avoiding each other’s emotional basements. One says, 'I love you', and the other replies, 'Have you seen my socks?'

We crave honesty, yes ..but only the nicely gift-wrapped kind. None of that naked, raw, unpleasant truth, thank you very much. We like our intimacy the same way we like our neighbours ..close, but not too close.

Knowing another human being isn’t about data collection. It’s not a census. It’s more like being a pilgrim in the ruins of someone else’s forgotten temple. You sit quietly among the rubble, trying not to sneeze.

The real tragedy is that, we think Google is knowledge, Wi-Fi is connection, and love is ownership. But knowing someone .. like, really knowing someone.. that would be less like reading a book and more like admiring a mountain you’ll never climb. You won’t conquer it. You just stand in awe and try not to die from altitude sickness.

Yes, there are caverns in all of us that no flashlight can reach. Ancient hurts packed in deep freeze, like leftovers no one dares to touch. But that’s not failure.. it’s just biology with a touch of poetry. Eh?

The self, my friend, is a galaxy. A cosmic comedy of stars, scars, and the occasional black hole. And if you get to glimpse just one flickering star in another person’s soul, count yourself lucky and pour yourself a drink.

Sometimes .. if the gods are kind .. you may meet a handful of people who don’t insist on seeing your blueprints. They would ..just sit quietly in your boat, even if it’s leaking. They row with you into the fog, without asking you to explain the weather. With them, something magical happens. The iceberg softens, the waters turn from icy silence to warm tea, and suddenly, the voyage itself becomes the destination.

Maybe that’s the secret: we’re not meant to unravel each other completely. We’re just meant to travel a little while together .. curious, amused, and mildly drunk on the mystery.

In the end, we all melt. Some with drama, some with grace. But until then, try to honour the ice in others, and keep your own from becoming too lonely.

Now go forth, you little frozen mystery. And don’t forget to wear a hat. It's cold out there.