Browsing All Posts filed under »Uncategorized«

Trying Out Brown Boots: Race And The Self

March 31, 2011


When I look into the mirror, I don’t see the ‘brown’ anywhere in me. I am aware of the colour of my skin and I know that it's not white. But I don’t see what I am supposed to see that makes me comfortable with ‘brown’ or ‘woman of colour’.

On Taking the Bus…

March 28, 2011


It’s never a random decision. Oh I think I’ll take the bus… nope can’t do. Not dressed like that anyhow. Being a girl in India means many things. It means you’re valued less, you’re harassed more. It also means that you have to be very very careful about how you choose to cloth yourself when […]

On writing more and thinking about writing less…

March 23, 2011


A million ideas live and die in my head everyday. Stories I want to write about the way I see people live their lives Entire epics stemming from the simple and fleeting moments of observation. Of people I see in the bus, on the road, at work. Stories I want to weave out of the […]


July 4, 2010


Almost all of my life has been ordered by this annual shift of season. Summer ends and a new year of school begins. School ends, college begins. College ends, there’s nothing to begin yet. The cycle of life one has become so familiar with has reached its first big breach.

A Strange Domesticity

March 2, 2010


Hypothesis: There is an affinity to belonging to the South Asian sub-continent. That unmistakable ‘it’ that brings us together like a weak thread of commonality that runs through different countries. After all, one surely cannot feel utterly foreign in a place that appears, smells and where everybody acts much like home. It’s really the same […]

In Conclusion

March 2, 2010


Resolution remains a fundamentally human craving. The sense of completeness that something has ended and ended well at that. Few feelings quite compare to that.

Penmanship Nostalgia

September 13, 2009


Handwriting is an extremely organic process. It’s stimulating, beautiful and spontaneous. It's something you do for yourself. Typing on the other hand is deliberate and organized. It'll never quite feel so artistic. It doesn't even feel sexy.