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I was seventeen years old when my mother first told me that I would bring shame to the family. It was something I was used to hearing from my father, grandmother, aunts and uncles but for the first time, it felt like the ally I had always relied on was no longer available to me.
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Love exists in every thread of the universe.It exists when you look at a blooming flower.It exists when you see yourself in the mirror.It exists when your mother scolds you for spending too much time in front of the mirror.And it exists when your father peeks into your room as you apply kajal in your…
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Katyayini had been summoned an hour ago to the room of M. Jogi to record her last words. The nurses suspected the woman would die any minute and it was a tradition to call a Keeper of Last Words. Their job was to faithfully recreate what was spoken by a person on their death bed.…
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I was brainstorming for the letter J with Claude and it came up with an idea that joy may have big meaning in everyday life but it doesn’t work particularly well in fiction.
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It can be so annoying when in the middle of your work day, where a million things are happening, you’re mentally planning for a trip and you’re 20% checked out of the system because it’s a Friday, you also have to pause and allow yourself to throw a tantrum.
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Once upon a time when I didn’t know what time meant, I arrived on mother Earth as a young sapling. Young could mean many things so let me clarify: I was a seed inside a sealed incubation chamber. I was lab made with the hope that if the mothership didn’t survive, I would. And I…
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A man sits on a chair. He is curiously dressed. He’s wearing a golden coloured dhoti. His chest is bare, pale in a way like it doesn’t see much sunlight. His arms are dark, as dark as the earth after rain. His left hand is raised. It’s clutching a sponge with white paint on it.…
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tales of Suchita 