The Constitution of a Wound

Two days ago, I was walking to the parking lot after having an intense conversation with an old friend about something that was weighing on her and I started laughing to myself. It has been a week of intense conversations with friends about trauma, ageing, anxiety, quality of life and work, loss of money, loves... Continue Reading →

Beparwah

After a point of time, even I get bored of hearing myself tell the same stories but to different set of people. As if explaining my life to different people is a desperate measure to be understood. They’re the same stories — about a food not eaten, an anecdote from my past, the literature festival... Continue Reading →

The 3 Minute Podcast

During the lockdown, I did a lot of things that were uncharacteristically me. One of them was running a podcast. It started about as a very nascent thought. As someone who hasn't been a fan of podcasts, I imagined this to be a small podcast, running for only 3 minutes, hence the name. However, when... Continue Reading →

Fire and Rain

Many moons ago, a switch went off in my brain and I was compelled to become this person who had to do something productive every single day to survive. It could be an hour of exercise, writing in my journal, cleaning my cupboard, reading a book or an essay that lends something to my writing... Continue Reading →

Hallelujah

Earlier this week, I found myself completely unstitched, and then sewed up back again by the end of it. While trying to keep up, I thought of Kintsugi and what it would mean to glue our broken souls with liquid gold. If we could see souls, all of us would be walking skies with glowing... Continue Reading →

Yellow Brick Road

“What is the worst thing that ever happened to him?” her sister asks her. And the answer is nothing ever has. “That’s the problem,” she says. “He’s just a nice boy from Ohio. He has no idea how to fix something like this.” - Dept. of Speculation, Jenny Offill In a commencement speech, Joseph Brodsky,... Continue Reading →

Fields of Gold

A few days ago, I had a thought about Elizabeth Gilbert and Cheryl Strayed. One that I forgot. Something about them being soul sisters, except that they are not. I didn't make a note of the thought, maybe because I was sleeping, too knocked out to actually give a fig or because I was binge-watching... Continue Reading →

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