Matte Finish
She perfects her face. She polishes her demeanor. There is a matte finish over her entire being. – A poem on the sheen finish of our lives.
Map Of Emotion
Navigating complex emotions of jealousy, ambition, insecurity, joy, fear, peace, anger, happiness, betrayal, contentment, disappointment, love.
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Enter At Your Own Peril
Be careful how deeply you look into people. The most negative emotions run skin-deep. As you get under their skin, you start to meet their motivations, their desires and their shortcomings. You should probably stop right there. Because any deeper and you come face to face with their fears, their…
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Dipping My Toes
On Facebook while I wait for E Vestigio to turn up for our Sunday evening catch-up/gripe/giggle dinner-date. Clearing out pending messages, updated status (blah, I’m running out of exciting things to claim I’m doing) and even looked into Twitter. And now this idle mind turns to mischief. So I use…
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Sensitive
Sensitive is simply how much you allow yourself to. To illustrate, a poem from long ago. Who do you suppose is being referred to here?
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Older And Wiser
“Does it get better?” she asks. She thinks because I’m older, I’ll also be wiser. Can I give her an honest answer?
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Things I Wrote At Sea
I sailed the sea to the Greek islands and Turkey, promising myself I wouldn’t blog or stress or do any of my usual. Two days in, I reached for my pen.
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Finding My Religion
I spotted this on the Mains and Crosses blog a while ago. I must stop to explain why I picked up this picture and decided to write a post about it. I am not religious; haven’t been for many years now. That picture is not visible on the blog anymore…
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I Am Jill ‘s Last Wish
I started with a wish and turned it into a story. This is a revised version after Kavita Bhanot’s workshop on fiction writing.
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Real Women Don’t Cry
A love story and a heartbreak story may go on to become the origin story of a real woman. I saw one play out before my eyes when I was in college.
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Photographs
I was burrowing through my closet the other day. Buried beneath the long-forgotten scarves and shawls and tee-shirts, I found an album. Just before he left for his first trip back home to Delhi, he asked me, What shall I get you from there? And I said. Yourself. Lots of yourself….
