Sadhana Bhadoriya

A new semester stretches out before you, a blank canvas of possibility. You’re filled with determination: This time will be different. I’m going to stay on top of everything, ace my classes, and finally conquer that subject that always trips me up. But by midterms, that initial motivation often fades, replaced by the familiar stress […]

The alarm clock blares. A groggy hand slaps the snooze button. Nine minutes later, it happens again. Finally, you jolt awake, already late. You scramble—clothes, backpack, a granola bar clutched in your teeth. You burst into your first lecture breathless, brain fuzzy, and already playing catch-up. Sound familiar? For many students, mornings are a chaotic

The project looms. It’s important, it’s valuable, and it’s massive. You know you should start, you’ve even carved out the time, but instead of diving in, you find yourself reorganizing your bookshelf by color, suddenly fascinated by the inner workings of your vacuum cleaner, or falling down a three-hour internet rabbit hole about the history

The semester is about to begin, and amidst the frenzy of buying textbooks and sorting out timetables, one crucial decision awaits: how will you keep your academic life from descending into chaos? For generations, the answer was simple—a trusty paper planner. But in our modern, smartphone-glued-to-our-hands world, a powerful challenger has emerged: the digital planner.

Your heart pounds as you stare at the digital hydra—your learning management system. For every assignment you check off, two more appear. A research paper here, three chapters of reading there, a problem set, a discussion post, a looming exam. The deadlines swirl in your mind like a toxic soup. Your stomach clenches. You feel

The essay is a special kind of beast. It demands both the wild, unstructured creativity of brainstorming and the sharp, disciplined focus of structured argumentation. It’s this very duality that makes it so susceptible to procrastination, writer’s block, and the siren call of digital distraction. You find yourself staring at a blinking cursor, an hour

It’s a universal student experience: you finish reading a dense chapter in your biology, history, or economics textbook. You turned every page, you even highlighted some key phrases. You close the book with a sense of accomplishment. But then, a few hours later, a classmate asks, “So, what was that chapter about?” Your mind goes

The student-athlete might be the most impressive—and the most stretched. You’re not just juggling academics and sports; you’re navigating two high-performance careers simultaneously. Each one demands total commitment, peak physical and mental conditioning, and a relentless schedule that seems designed to ensure you fail at one, the other, or both. The constant, low-grade hum of

You’ve done it. You’ve made it to university. The lectures are fascinating, the campus is buzzing, and your freedom is… absolute. But then, the first wave of assignments hits. A reading list longer than your arm, a lab report, and the faint, distant drumbeat of midterms. Suddenly, that freedom feels a lot like free-fall. How

Of all the skills we cultivate throughout our lives, reading is perhaps the most fundamental—and the most taken for granted. We learn the mechanics as children, stringing letters into words and words into sentences. But for many, the transition from “reading” to comprehending efficiently hits a wall. You find yourself at the bottom of a