WCMumbai 2016: The Community Manager – The Future Of The Blogger
I was a speaker at WordCamp Mumbai 2016. WCMumbai 2016 saw me with just my thoughts. No presentation, podium or speech.
Writer’s Diary
Books | Map Of Emotion | Poetry | Pop Culture
My First Publisher: Performing at LitCon 2015, Mithibai college
Tuesday was really special. I had a chance to perform at Mithibai college’s LitCon festival. The alma mater makes everything a magical experience. Even though the building has changed beyond recognition, it has echoes of my adolescent self, climbing out of windows, sneaking vada-paos into chemistry labs, reading books hidden…
Designing Your Own Happy
I primarily left the corporate world because of the people. I couldn’t bear the idea of living the rest of my life, centered around pettiness and politics and that’s all I saw around me. I drifted gradually into more creative circles. I met artists, writers, musicians, actors, performers. I also…
When A Writer Falls Silent
Writing is not healing. It’s catharsis. What does that portend for the person under the writer?
Ennui
The weekend draws nearer & my dread mounts. It looms the way Beast must have loomed to Beauty before she met his gentle side. There’s no workshopping ennui.
The Suicide Pact
The path to healing has plateaus more than valleys & troughs. This is a suicide pact with my life as a writer.
HeroPress: Who We Are
The people at HeroPress asked me to chronicle my journey into Wordpress. It turned into a personal saga.
G for Gym Rat
I hit the gym today for my first personal training session. And it brought up a sweet memory of a college crush.
F for Four Year Old Lessons
This is something I wrote at one of Rochelle’s workshops. I haven’t edited it too much and I might consider performing it. Then again, once I put it out there, I might not need to anymore. This is a delayed poem for the April 2015 A to Z Challenge. ~O~O~O~O~O~ Four…
C for Crying
I was going to slack off on C which is the real letter of today’s April A to Z Challenge. But then I read this and it pushed me to write what I did. Not even a tenth as good but it is poetry. — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — I stopped at 16It was time to leave…