The Last Beating Heart
I don’t know if you ever have days when you feel like you’re the only beating heart in the world.
Books, Film, Fashion, Food, Music, Performance & all things popular culture
I don’t know if you ever have days when you feel like you’re the only beating heart in the world.
If you were a place, where would you be?
Gully Boy was rife with triggers. Musicians have hurt me. But we’re storytellers together.
I spotted this tree at the junction of a rapidly disappearing Mumbai and the greedy new city emerging in its place.
It was respite from the morning’s fight, a common occurrence in the horror story I lived in. It didn’t feel right.
The past is technicolour and we are the prisms that make it so.
The 60s talked of free love. Millennials say fuck-buddies or if they want to be nice, friends-with-benefits. How do we navigate our many lovers?
Today I didn’t feel cool, collected or in control. Today I was incomplete.
I have opened my bookshelf after a long time. Books are the best.
My years working in Chinchpokli were checkered with the ruins of the past as well as the promise of flamingos. It shaped me in so many ways.