It’s a sickness, this agitation. The itch of wanting to move, just move towards something, anything, has settled in my nerves, making my blood vessels heavy with responsibility to fight with myself, for myself, for nothing. Every breath seems like silk dragged across nails, not coming out the wholesome way it went in. It’s missing, … Continue reading My steel glass is home
I remember I was around eight years old when I was first exposed to this whole other world where women were naturally inclined to become soldiers. Ma and I were walking hand in hand to the market, she was laughing about my addiction to cream buns from this particular bakery we had crossed. “We’ll get them while going back,” she was assuring me, when a drunk man grabbed her and pulled. The shock of it broke our linked hands and she pushed him away.
Moving to Hyderabad was a well thought out plan. I was mentally prepared to leave home, and emotionally desperate to. Though getting accepted by the University of my choice was doubtful, I was prepared to leave and start living alone. I did this knowing my parents would miss me quite a bit, and they allowed … Continue reading Why I’m thinking of Home, Bangalore Days, and Radio Indigo
Every time I pictured myself, I’d see my stomach swallowing my belly button, like a jellyfish swallowing a baby jellyfish—though I wasn’t translucent. It made me giggle and sigh.
This piece is all those HP quizzes I’ve not competed in, all those HP t-shirts I refused to wear, all those HP discussions I’ve refused to be a part of, and all those HP stories I’ve left unwritten because they were mine and too personal to share. This piece is accepting that Harry Potter is everyone else’s as much as mine.
To My Grandfather Letter I On your one hundredth birthday, I’ll be twenty-five. I’ll be a quarter of your age and nowhere near the person you were at my age. You are ninety-five now and still going strong. You wake up early and make sure that not a minute of the life you sustain is … Continue reading A letter long due
It was in a small parlour in the right lobby of the first floor of the rickety mansion beside the lake. You know what “it” is? No? Well, then let me tell you the story of the 2’x2’ window that rested on the floor in a small parlour in the right lobby of the first … Continue reading Changing Hands
The hot stones beneath my bare feet were what urged me to toddle around the Belur temple, as fast as I possibly could, without compromising on the prayers I was forced to lisp along the way. This was my earliest power walk and I sometimes still walk like there are hot stones propelling me to … Continue reading Aware and back
Interchangeable. That's what people are. She's your friend? You'll replace her with another "she" with more money and more attitude. It's okay. You'll get over the loss pretty quickly. A few meetings will come down to a few phone calls--from her end, mind you--and a quick 'phone was somewhere else' will give her the hint … Continue reading Swaps and Switches
She’d cupped her hands around her mouth and nose, trying not to make a sound. Her tears didn’t stop. They kept getting crumpled over her eyelashes, seeping in between her nails and finger tips, but they didn’t stop. She stood outside the cracked door of her classroom, listening to what her best friends were saying. … Continue reading Happily exhausted