Just a name, right? Right.

Typing out his name while texting him seemed somehow sacredly intimate. Immeasurably more intimate than mentioning to him my list of crushes. It was a jerk of electricity to the soles of my feet and a tightening of my lungs. I don’t know if you read it like I typed it, deliberating before every letter, that … Continue reading Just a name, right? Right.

Alone in a public space

The first time I walked alone on Brigade, I wrapped a scarf around my face and threw on huge shades. I didn’t want anybody to recognize me. Even when I made purchases, I spoke in broken Hindi though I’m fluent in Kannada and the vendors were Kannadigas. It took a few more such outings before I could sign my real name on the feedback forms in restaurants. Nothing to be ashamed about, no?