Latest confessions
Fresh from the inbox. Names never included, stories never altered.
#024anonymous confession
My family in the village thinks I am a nurse in Mumbai. I wash dishes in 4 houses in Vasai West.
Female, 34, Nallasopara East. I came here 9 years ago after my husband died. Two kids. My mother told the village I work in a big hospital in Mumbai. I never corrected her.
I work in 4 houses, two in Papdy and two in Stella. I take the 8:40 slow from Nallasopara every morning. Dishes, mopping, clothes. One madam gives me her old sarees. Another one counts the sugar after I leave. I smile at both.
Every month I send 12,000 home. My son is in 10th standard now. He tells his friends his mother is a nurse in Mumbai. He says it with so much pride that I cannot take it from him.
Last Diwali I went home. My mother introduced me to a relative as my daughter, the nurse. I just folded my hands and smiled. On the train back I cried quietly. Not from shame. From tiredness.
I am not a nurse. I am a maid who raised two kids alone and never missed a month's money. If that is not something to be proud of, I don't know what is. But I will let them keep their story. It is easier than the truth.
#025anonymous confession
My best friend died 3 years ago. His mother still gets her medicines every month. She thinks it is a government scheme. It is me.
Male, 28, Virar West. We grew up in the same chawl in Bolinj. Same school, same bench, same dreams. In 2023 we were coming back from a friend's birthday in Vasai, each on our own bike. At Virar phata we split ways. Two minutes later he texted me: reach home safe. I replied: you too. I reached home. He didn't. A truck hit him on the highway, 10 minutes from his house. I still have that chat on my phone.
His mother is 61 now. Blood pressure, diabetes. Medicines cost around 2,800 a month. After he died, I started paying the medical store outside Virar West station directly. I told the chemist to tell her it is some scheme for senior citizens. She believes it.
I am not rich. I work in a courier company in Sativali. Some months it hurts. But that night he told me to reach home safe, and I did. He was the one who didn't reach. So now I keep his mother safe instead. That is how I answer his last message.
Last month the chemist almost slipped. He said your son's friend in front of her. She asked which friend. I changed the topic and my hands were shaking for one hour after.
I will never tell her. If she finds out, she will refuse the medicines out of pride, and I cannot let that happen. Some debts you don't repay. You just carry them quietly. Do you also have someone you take care of in secret?
#026anonymous confession
I cancelled my wedding 10 days before the date. The cards were printed. My mother still doesn't look at me the same way.
Female, 23, Vasai East. We live in Evershine City. Arranged match. Good family from Borivali. He seemed nice. Everyone said I was lucky. The hall was booked on Ambadi Road, 400 guests.
10 days before, he called and said, very casually, that after marriage I should quit my job. My mother will need help at home, he said. Like it was already decided. Like I was furniture being moved.
I said no on that call. He laughed. He thought I was joking. I was not joking. I told my parents that night. My father cried. My mother said, what will people say. Nobody asked what I wanted to say.
The cards were already printed. My father went to every house personally to say the wedding is cancelled. He is 58. He did that for me. I will never forget it.
It has been 8 months. My mother still serves me food without looking at my face. But every morning I go to my job, my own job, and I feel free. If you are a girl reading this and someone is deciding your life for you, please speak before the cards are printed.
#027anonymous confession
My daughter got a job in Dubai. Everyone congratulates me. Nobody asks why I cry after they leave.
Male, 52, Nallasopara West. I worked as a peon in a bank near the station for 31 years. Retired last year. My daughter is my only child. She got a job in Dubai in March. Good salary. Everyone in our building congratulates me.
The house is so quiet now. My wife and I eat dinner and the only sound is the fan. Earlier there was always her voice, her music, her fights with us about small things. On Sundays we used to go to Suruchi beach, all three of us. I miss the fights.
She video calls every Sunday. She shows us her room, her office. She looks happy. I smile and say very good, very good. After the call ends, I go to the balcony and cry. My wife pretends she doesn't hear.
Last week a neighbour said, you must be so proud. I said yes. I am proud. But pride and loneliness can sit in the same chair. Nobody tells you that.
Parents spend their whole life pushing their children out of the nest, and then sit in the empty nest wondering what to do with their wings. If your parents are alive and near, go sit with them today. They are waiting.
#028anonymous confession
My kids think their father works in the Gulf and will come home one day. He left 5 years ago. He has another family now.
Female, 41, Virar West. I run a small beauty parlour in the lane behind the station. Two kids, 14 and 11, studying in a school in Yashwant Nagar. Their father left 5 years ago. He didn't even fight. He just stopped coming home one day.
For one year I told the kids he is in the Gulf for work. Then one year became two. Then I found out through a relative that he remarried in his village. I never told them.
My son asks when papa will come. I say soon, when his work finishes. He is 14 now. I think he knows. Children know more than we think. But he never asks twice. That is his kindness to me.
I work 12 hours a day in the parlour. Facials, threading, mehendi in wedding season. My hands are always tired. But my kids eat well and study well, and that is enough.
Some day I will tell them the truth. When they are old enough to not hate him for it. Till then I will keep the Gulf story alive. A mother can hold a lie for years if it protects her children. Would you do the same?
#029anonymous confession
I failed the police bharti 4 times. Now I guard a mall in Thane. I still stand like a policeman.
Male, 31, Vasai East. Since childhood I wanted to wear the khaki uniform. I ran every morning on Suruchi beach road. I studied at night under a streetlight because our room had one bulb.
I gave the bharti 4 times. First time I missed the running by 12 seconds. Second time, written exam by 4 marks. Third time, I cleared everything but there were no vacancies in my category. Fourth time, I was overage.
Now I am a security guard at a mall in Thane. Same standing for 10 hours. Same namaste sir. My mother tells neighbours I am in private security. She says it proudly. I let her.
Sometimes kids in the mall salute me playfully. I salute back, properly, like I was trained. For one second I am what I wanted to be.
I am 31 and I guard shops instead of streets. But I still get up at 5 and run. Some dreams don't die, they just change their uniform. If you also missed your dream by 12 seconds, I understand.
#030anonymous confession
My brother thinks our parents pay for his cricket coaching. It is my salary from a mobile shop. I quit my degree for him.
Female, 26, Naigaon. I was in second year of BCom when our father fell sick. Someone had to earn. My brother was 16 then, and his coach said he has real talent. Real.
I joined a mobile shop outside Naigaon East station. 11,000 a month. His coaching fees are 4,000. He trains at an academy near Vasai fort. Kit, shoes, train fare for matches. I do the maths every night before sleeping.
He doesn't know I quit college for him. He thinks I wasn't interested in studies. I let him think that. A boy should not carry guilt when he walks out to bat.
Last month he scored 87 in a district match. He called me first, before our parents. Did you see the score, he asked. I was at the shop. I went to the back room and cried.
He checks his kit bag every night before sleeping. What he doesn't know is that I check it after him, to see what needs replacing. One day he will play in a big stadium. I will be in the crowd, and nobody will know the girl clapping the loudest paid for the bat.
#031anonymous confession
I borrowed 2 lakhs from my father-in-law for business. I used it to pay off my own father's debts. He still doesn't know.
Male, 36, Vasai West. My father ran a small hardware shop on MG Road. When he died 2 years ago, I found out he had borrowed money from 6 different people. Total 2 lakhs. The lenders started coming to our house in Papdy.
I was ashamed. My father was an honest man. I didn't want his name spoiled in our area after his death. But I didn't have 2 lakhs. My salary covers our house and nothing more.
So I told my father-in-law I want to start a small business. He gave me 2 lakhs from his retirement money. He was so happy. My son-in-law is a businessman, he told everyone.
I paid every lender. Every single rupee. My father's name is clean. But every time my father-in-law asks how is the business going, I feel sick. I say slowly, slowly. There is no business.
I lied to an old man who trusted me, to protect a dead man who deserved it. I don't know if that makes me good or bad. I pay him back 5,000 every month from my salary. In 3 more years the lie will be over. Till then I live inside it.
#032anonymous confession
My best friend and I haven't spoken in 4 years. I still write her letters. I never send them.
Female, 30, Virar East. We were friends since 5th standard in our school in Manvelpada. Same bench, same tiffin sharing, same secrets. In college we both liked the same boy. I told her first. She went behind my back.
We had one big fight. Terrible things were said. She said I was jealous of her. I said she was a backstabber. We stopped talking that day. That was 4 years ago.
The boy married someone else. Neither of us got him. Sometimes I laugh about it alone. We lost a 15-year friendship over a boy who doesn't even remember our names.
I have a box under my bed. 23 letters. Birthday letters, sorry letters, I miss you letters. Every time something big happens in my life, I write to her first, in my head.
Last month I saw her at Virar station. She was with her baby. She looked happy. I hid behind a pillar like a fool. If you are reading this and you also have a box of unsent letters, maybe send one. Before the pillar moment comes.
#033anonymous confession
I drive a school bus. I know 42 kids by name. My own two children call me once a month.
Male, 44, Saphale. I have driven the same school bus for 11 years. Same route, from Saphale station towards Kelva. I know which kid likes the window seat, who forgets their water bottle, who cries on Mondays.
There is a small girl in 2nd standard. Her mother packs her tiffin with a smiley face made of jam. Every day I look at it and think of my own kids' tiffins. My wife used to do the same.
My son is in Pune, my daughter married in Nashik. They call once a month. Baba, how is health. Baba, take medicines. Two minutes. Then busy.
The kids on my bus fight to sit behind me. They call me driver uncle and tell me their secrets. Don't tell teacher, they say. I keep every secret. I am the safest person on that bus.
42 children trust me with their secrets, and my own two don't have time for a third minute on the phone. That is life, I suppose. If your father drives a bus, or did anything with his hands for you, call him today. Not for two minutes. For ten.
