Raining Me

I am open walking wounds. I’m awash in the pain of those who hurt me. Because to bleed is to also stain & to infect. But you know, it hurts much more to fester alone, to bear wounds silently, to hide sores in pretence. In the feeling will there be healing. These too, will pass. And on the other side

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When Mumbai Awakens Again

I’ve been tentatively getting out. December was for cautious celebrations of a dinner here, a lunch there, a bookshop browsing. It has felt scary to hope, guilty to celebrate after the pain of the last two years. January’s third wave was yet another cautionary tale. But also a lesson that we have to re-negotiate our way into the new normal,

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Better Days

For some months now, Clubhouse has been my new social media toy. It has also been my solace, my refuge during the soul-shattering COVID-19 second wave. I’ve made friendships of a very different kind from any I’ve had before (even counting the pioneering days of chatrooms, blogs & Twitter). Hearing people’s voices through the dark desolation of a pandemic and

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New Breath, New Life

This post was written on Diwali but it feels appropriate for now too. I bought this saree last year ironically. I have trouble with festivals because any religious occasion comes tainted by misogyny, casteism & fundamentalism. It was the first Diwali in 4 years I was spending in the city, after having run away from the pollution & allergy triggers.

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