When Fear Borrows a Name
On Delhi NCR roads, it’s common to hear a strange introduction during conflict: “Do you know who my father is?” Especially after an accident. Especially when the police arrive.
It’s not about lineage. It’s about survival. A loud declaration meant to signal: I am too big to be harmed.
Strip away the city, the cars, the uniforms—and you’ll see something ancient. An animal baring its teeth, hoping the other one backs off. It is a desperate attempt to hide the fear of vulnerability. Millions of years of evolution, and fear still runs the show.
The Civilized Mask
When I look honestly at my own fear, the first answer that appears is survival. But I’m not fully convinced that’s the whole truth.
Fear of the unknown. Fear of the future. Fear of death. They don’t knock. They hum in the background—constantly.
Instead of facing them, I distract myself. Anything will do. Screens. Thoughts. Noise. Instead of overcoming fear, I let fear see through me.
The body reacts before the mind can speak— racing heart, sweat on the forehead, clarity gone. Often, I’m not afraid of something specific. I’m afraid of fear itself—because I don’t even know if there’s anything real to be afraid of.
All this sounds neat on paper. In real life, it barely helps.
The Fear of Getting It Wrong
One fear, in particular, has its grip on me: the fear of making mistakes. We often call this professional anxiety, but it feels deeper. If you’ve ever reported to someone, you already understand.
The dread isn’t the mistake itself. It’s the feeling that you don’t know how to prevent the next one. From the outside, it looks like carelessness. From the inside, it’s panic.
And the irony is brutal: The more afraid you are of mistakes, the more mistakes you make. A downward spiral. I keep hoping there’s an end to it. Sometimes I fear the end will simply be me.
Knowing the Problem, Missing the Exit
I tell myself I know the problem. But if I’m honest, I don’t know the solution. Days turn into months. Months into years.
I keep fooling myself that I’ll figure it out tomorrow. This fear runs so deep that even the thought of ending it terrifies me. I’ve tried to defeat it. I’ve lost—every time.
Loud Lives, Quiet Panic
Then I look around. People just like me. Only louder.
Confidence performed at full volume. Carefully curated lives on social media. The best moments, edited and displayed— as if happiness needs witnesses to be real.
If you’ve truly made it, do you really need to announce it? The need to look happy is often proof of its absence.
Staying With the Question
I’m on a journey—not of fixing, but of understanding. Of thinking deeply enough to touch the root of this fear.
Maybe there’s a tool there. Maybe not. But pretending no longer helps.
If any part of this felt familiar, I invite you—not to agree—but to look inward. To join me in thinking. In exploring. In quiet mindfulness.
Or at least— Just think over it
[VIDEO EMBED COMING SOON]
