The early baggage.

The smell of sunshine on wet grass,the dew drops on a heavy morning rose,the careless flight of parakeets,chasing butterflies in the meadows;as a young child,one truly has a Charter as wide as that of the Wind,to learn,explore and frolic around. It was only yesterday that I was walking though the market area with rose tinted … More The early baggage.

Review on ‘Driving with Selvi’ by Elisa Paloschi.

This documentary captures the strife that a young Selvi is subjected to and her heroic struggle to unfetter her soul. This Canadian-produced, South India-set documentary throws light on astonishing statistics about forced marriage, and how 700 million women worldwide were married before they turned 18; 250 million of them before they turned 15. As a … More Review on ‘Driving with Selvi’ by Elisa Paloschi.

Not lost 

I let the atomies in his sunlit eyes  Dance on my skin like starlit skies  As they droop to meet the aura I exude  My soul elicits Jim like a musical prelude  Inching like an inchworm in soil  His fingers grip my palms in a coil Kissing alive tender spots on the surface  Like embers … More Not lost 

Bondage 

He draws on her flesh  With colours of the candle  Molten wax to tie her down And whispers soft  In a foreign tongue  Slithering ‘cross her gown  Her eyes-amazed  At his pagan sight  Heave and sigh in parts  He paints her body  With wild strokes Red ribbons and heaving hearts The candle’s flame flickers to … More Bondage 

Our reality.

Dear diary, When I was younger, I was taught that deception came in the form of lecherous men offering chocolates. Took me a while to realise that it can also be the pretty aunts in the family who ask you to get involved with other men.  I don’t see how the world,so easily,moulds us into … More Our reality.

The piece of music

 The slow ticking of a table clock The distant thumping of a hammer on a wooden panel The chinking of the metalled tip of my hoodie against the wall while I slowly turn into a complete circle,carefully in soft full circles,inward and inward,as if in a state of trance,waltzing away,dancing away,singing away..into this room full … More The piece of music

Fire flies

I sit by myself on a Delhi winter morning,curled up in 3 layers of clothing and a puffy quilt. The morning shows herself carefully from behind the blinds,as if in a careful melodious rhythm so as to not destroy the lull in my mind.  Any normal woman would call it deserting one’s morning chores like … More Fire flies

Welcoming 2017.

What’s that noise in the distance? The soft ruffling breeze mumbling muffled sounds in a foreign tongue.The careless purring of a Persian cat stretched out on a lavish couch caressing her own coat. The old man sitting by the tea shop looking at the faint fate lines on his palms. Youngsters playing crass music and … More Welcoming 2017.