My Ode* to Attenborough: Reading his stories is not enough; they need to be heard, to be seen.
Life Without Walls: Symbols can never be the things they stand for.
The Past Never Fades: Last night, I dreamt about Nanaji, my grandfather.
Why I Felt Like a Hypocrite: By the end of this piece, you may not like me very much, but I hope you’ll accept all of me. And in accepting all of me, perhaps you’ll accept all of you.
Resistance: A Reflection on Mothers and Motherhood – Whenever I cry, I think of my mother.
Telling Our Stories: The Challenges of Memoir Writing – Guest Post for This Is Lit
Breath – I crave control, because it slips so easily from the gaps in my tightening fists.
Papa – It’s typical of my father to feel guilty about inconveniencing others, the key word being ‘others,’ meaning those other than his family.
The Agony I Crave – It’s okay to wander. In fact, wandering is all you’ve got. You can’t know where you’re going, but that doesn’t mean you stop moving.
Mastering the Art of Sitting – This kind of sitting, the kind that takes skill and builds vitamin D, is the kind that requires practice, perseverance, fresh air and a cloudless sky.
Diwali Can Be A Deadly Drug – For one day, we drug ourselves into believing that all is well, and deny the existence of the suffering and loneliness we swim in.
Adventures in Becoming Legal – He takes my partner’s name along with mine, but his name, my partner’s, stands alone, not requiring patriarchal validation.
Oh, Those Clever, Clever Fleas – Pest control was never my strong suit, but circumstances have led me to know more about fleas than I would have liked.
The Experience of Food, The Labour of Cleaning – There are lessons in living, lessons I learn by doing, not just reading. Like how big the arbi plant is, its giant leaves resembling the floating pods of the lotus plant.
The Complexities of Moving to a Simpler Life – Is it possible to feel claustrophobic in a space where there is nothing but space?
My Crimes of Convenience – At a traffic signal stand vehicles of metal, plastic, rubber, smoke, air-conditioning; the sedentary cow; a sporadic bullock cart; honk, stare, breathe. Amidst the resting are the movers, sailors of the streets, pirates outcast from the respectable, plastering chapped hands on windows, drugged babies on doors.
Notes on Unsettlement From a Washington Bedroom – There is a disconnect between the life I am living and the life I have lived; in negotiating both I can’t let go of either. I miss the chaos of traffic sounds, I relish the silence these walls gift me.
Knitting to be Here, Now – This is not me talking about knitting. Each tick clink tock clink tick pull tock push is time tick is life tock is being in the now tick and nowhere else but here.