I left work late but determined to use the remaining hours. The back of the cab was silent. I got to my to-call list, hitting deadends. I paused for those rare seconds in a Mumbai day when one thinks of absolutely nothing. Then I realised I was flying. Riding flyovers…
May you find peace in the grey of twilight when you travel the land of shadows.
I am a gardener.
My garden is paradise.
A woman’s body is the site of power games, moral policing, community identity. How does it experience pleasure which is an individual thing?
I broke a glass ceiling of my own, as a student representing my college on the campus festival circuit.
Let’s do the dating thing. I’ll say COFFEE? You’ll say Yup.
I feel like a character in someone else’s coming of age story. The kind about a young man discovering life, love and that, contrary to what his mama said, the universe does not revolve around him. I’m Sunday morning breakfast in a social calendar filled with boozy Saturday nights &…
I was 19 when I met him. He was too, just a day older, a fact that would serve as a bridge for us, looking for a way to say hello. I spotted him in a crowd outside an event where I was looking for someone else. He turned at…
This boxy is a box. It is not me. When you trap my identity in labels of gender, regional feature, skin colour, this body makes me feel like a prisoner.
Can you miss someone who died before you ever met them? Yes, if you are a reader. I miss Marsha Mehran.