Mahabharata: The Birth

The Mahabharata is the longest epic ever written, generally thought to have been composed in the 4th century BCE or earlier. It is either categorized as history or as myth; it is both, while being neither. The Mahabharata is itihasa. The text was originally composed in Sanskrit, where the central narrative is about two branches of a... Continue Reading →


The walls are closing in. You feel choked, like something is squeezing you into a little ball. You want to scream, you want to let people know but what will the people do. Out of nowhere, you'll feel punched out of breath, your teeth will cut against cheek and you will taste yourself leaking red... Continue Reading →

The Write Advice #1

I've been reading a lot of Black female writers lately. Their literature has an undeniable power and resonance to it, perhaps because of their unparalleled examination of relationships between races and genders and sexuality. An acute awareness of the political climate of their era is fluently woven into fantastic representations of myth and folklore. No... Continue Reading →

And with the thundering dispersal of the conference of old white clouds, a sky so blue graduates to hues of blood and bruises. Winds race to the horizon that smells faintly of a yellow candle burning in its center. (maybe its the pollution)        


i don't like how familiar i am with the exhausted sigh of autumn's last leaf. i don't like how easily recognizable the sound of broken dreams is to me. i don't like how the dying flower's last puff of fragrance resonates in my blood. i don't like how restful i feel in the company of... Continue Reading →

photographs from the family album

Navy blue sofas, faded at the rims A circular glass fixed on a short wooden tripod, nonchalantly sitting in the space between us; the table serves no purpose. It is too far from both our sofas to be useful for anything. Pretty much like our conversation, that ran out of life five seconds after it began.... Continue Reading →

That’s Not How You Get To Memphis

Ten. Ten minutes to go, and I was one essay away from the finish line. They had requested Mrs Sinha to give us a real question this time, because what business did third graders have with rewriting Snow White from the Wicked Witch's viewpoint, or imagining life with superpowers but just one day. What business,... Continue Reading →

पुष्प वाटिका

The Sun had begun its ascent westward. Nascent rays bounced on the edges of the jewelled sculptures, casting reflections all around the garden. Morning blossoms welcomed the flying swarms with tunes of fragrance. Sita hissed a rather unladylike curse at the bees teeming around her garland of pink chrysanthemums; their buzzing could’ve given away her... Continue Reading →

In the Side Margins of History

The silence brought on by the curfew was so stark, Subba could register the thudding of his own heart. Waheguru[i] only knew how long his poor heart could sustain before becoming a floating cadaver of carbs in a river of cheap oil, like the samosas[ii] he had wolfed down just a few hours ago. Mosquitoes buzzed... Continue Reading →

The Stealing of Kisses

The sun of late morning coloured Rehnoor’s eyelids red on the inside. She enjoyed the sun rays groping for the slightest taste of her skin that rested within layers of winter clothing. At the south of her neck a drop of sweat arose and tapered down to her chest before losing its way to gravity.... Continue Reading →

The Saga of Shining Shoes

​My shoes shine. Like a piece of the sun that melted because of its own heat and floated in  the space for a billion years, only to be caught in the vents of a Russian spacecraft that was aimlessly revolving around the earth to collect information that would be the same as yesterday and the... Continue Reading →

The Winter Has Come

an orphanage of contradictions  housing dreams of dramatic passions  I'm a tenant to my own dreams paying rent to a loud landlord in pieces of my metaphorical flesh and metaphorical courage more metaphor than blood am I diverse discrepancies tied in knots around a gift wrapped in ashes of a history textbook of mistakes. read me... Continue Reading →

Riding the second-wave

The year was 1960. Horns roared in her wake and the honkers swore incredulously.  Swerving through the curving roads, she drove on unabashedly. At first she couldn't understand why all these strangers were so antagonistic to her. She quickly checked her reflection in the mirror to make sure she was wearing clothes. All this open-mouthed... Continue Reading →

My tribe

We are merchants of empathy No breadwinners dine in our company. The poverty of our bodies nourishes our souls and flows in fragrant verses out of our very pores We make a craft out of untruths so fantastic Snatching snippets of inspiration to stitch our magic tricks In a jumble of phrases, we watch your... Continue Reading →


  Every crevice of this city has folded the smell of the sea and stored it deep inside its pockets. The minute you enter, your nostrils reluctantly submit to the overpowering freshness of the ceaselessly indecisive waves and your skin begins to itch for their salty dryness to carve their stories in your palms and feet... Continue Reading →

small acts of life

My sister and I have never been the kind you'd tag with #sisterhoodgoals, and we never will be. While I hold her singularly responsible for a staggering amount of unnecessary scolding that I received, I also hold her responsible for being my most unassuming inspiration. So this one evening, I am returning from work and... Continue Reading →

Love Loves Love Not – II

Pratyoush was a more hot-and-cold kind of lover. Some days he would seem so distant, as if he barely knew me. And other days, he would text me so much that I had to beg him to let me sleep. His parents had strictly prohibited him from seeing me or talking to me. Like that... Continue Reading →

Love Loves Love Not – I

My romance with Pratyoush Binoy Banerjee was epic in Bollywood-shattering levels. It was love at first sight for the both of us, young kids as we were of 7 or 8 years. My birthday party. Even then, the very sight of me walking towards him in that frilly yellow frock made him stammer and ramble.... Continue Reading →

Have you heard of the turbaned man?

That’s a terribly huge turban! exclaims the maiden from behind her veil. Biting her tongue the very next moment, she hopes that she hasn’t been heard; but she has been, loud and clear, in spite of the man’s ears being almost completely hidden under the twisted folds of his extravagant turban. The scene is abuzz with... Continue Reading →

The Garland Weaver

His hands smell of blood and rose, from all the times the callous needle dug into his flesh instead of the flowers. At 14, he has weaved more garlands than stars in the dreary summer sky. Blood doesn’t seep out of this wounds anymore, there isn’t much left of that in his frail weather beaten... Continue Reading →

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