bhaskar saikia

We’re taught from early on to fear the unknown.

It’s a quiet, persistent lesson—one that doesn’t always come in words, but through warnings, looks of disapproval, and the comfort zones society builds around us. Play it safe, they say. Don’t dream too big. You’re just one of many—nothing special. Why risk it all?

And slowly, we begin to shrink.
We make peace with the average.
We convince ourselves that security is enough, even if it costs us a sense of purpose.

But here’s the uncomfortable truth: the fear of the unknown is also the fear of becoming more than what we’ve been told we are.

Yes, it’s prudent to be cautious. But how often does caution become a cage?

When we surrender to this fear completely, we never discover new lands—not in the world, not in our minds, not in our hearts. We miss out on the unexpected friendships, the bold ideas, the uncertain paths that could have changed our lives. We remain where it’s safe and familiar, even if it’s stifling.

So I ask again, why fear the unknown?

If the unknown holds pain, it also holds possibility.
If it brings failure, it may also lead to flight.

No star was ever found by looking down.
No meaningful relationship began by playing it safe.

Perhaps the first rebellion is a quiet one: not shouting back at the world, but simply choosing to believe—despite everything—that there’s more waiting out there. That we are allowed to be curious. To be bold. To be different.

To not fear the unknown.
But to walk towards it.