How I overcame the fear of losing loved ones with an unusual metaphor — The color red bloomed slowly on my wrist, like the syrup of a cherry ice. One of my favorite things when I was a kid were these cherry ice pops. I would bring one up to my mouth to take a tentative lick and the tart, sweet flavor would burst…

A colourful life epiphany that came out of traffic Red….Red…Red…..FUCKING red. Cars honking. The sickly sweet smell of seat leather. The narrow space my legs are wedged into. My sweaty hands. The cold blast of the AC on my cheek. …

There was a tree right across from her bedroom window. An old, gnarled tree with roots that skated on the ground before disappearing within. Her favorite pastime for a few minutes every morning was to sit on the loveseat and stare at this tree. Its ancientness calmed her somewhat before…

We, women, are an interesting lot. Our emotions are as powerful as the winds during a thunderstorm, our sensitivity as deep as the frothing sea, and our rage, as fiery as the nine circles of hell. We go through different seasons during our lifetimes, much like our land takes a…

I can think of so many things that are delicate. Flowers, babies, and tiny kittens. Self-esteem, egos, and hearts. Poets have waxed eloquent on the soft petals of a flower, the fuzz on the head of an infant, an easily breakable heart, or a quickly bruised ego. But you know…

Spaces that feel like home. Spaces that offer sanctuary. Spaces where you can ‘space’ out in peace. All of us have these spaces, they take on a variety of forms and personalities. An obscure cafe with a green sofa set in a corner. A library with a leather chair and…

Iridescent purple, glossy green, fiery crimson. Colors flash like a picture film across my eyes. I hear a faint popping and watch as serpentine patterns dance, made as if by a small child taking up a chalk piece and scratching it across a black canvas. …

A spellbinding week-long trip through one of the most scenic states in North-East India. I have always loved North-East India, its unique cultures and natural beauty, its lesser-known charming hamlets, and homely but delicious food. For us living in South India, the North-East always seemed like a dreamy, cloud-wreathed paradise…

“Where is the goddamn ‘T’ on this thing” he muttered, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Amala watched him as he peered at his computer screen through thick glass spectacles. It reminded her of something from her childhood. “Soda-buddi” or soda-bottle spectacles was the word they used. God save the kid…