I write because in writing there is a logical detachment between myself and my thoughts. I love dissecting my own thoughts into tiny fragments and placing each part under a microscopic lens. In externalising these thoughts I am able to view them in their wholeness— the structure, the impact and the takeaway, but also in their parts- the details, the metaphors and the inconsistencies. I look at it from left and from right, spot the weak and strong, the good and the absurd. Whe

I do oddly satisfying things — like sabotage what I love the most. I create elaborate plans for my own ruin and set aside time to lament what was ruined. I play hide and seek with myself sometimes. And disappear when I know someone is searching me. I convince myself that too good is not a good thing. And too much joy is not a state but the sound of the arrival of great distress I live moments from a different decade and play the role of a dead woman. I act like the Sultana of

The need to mate for human survival are mere desires created for the preservation of the species. This is what science tells us. So every time you find a person sexually attractive — capable of participating in carrying forward your progeny — it is supposed to be pure biology at work. its worth wondering how this force that pushes humans to procreate, to create this wondrous thing called life — must be really great, isn't it? So great that a mother risks her own existence to

She is the prisoner of her own mind — the matrix, the processor of her system. The system she runs, runs on her. It accepts inputs based on the tests it ran. She mistakes herself for being the one chairing the control centre, building her own code and entering it. But she is far away, standing still on the other side of the glass pane, seeing someone else click 'enter'. The code defines her, but also confines her. It sends her signals that she calls thoughts. Her own thoughts

Attention moulds reality. I’ve been drawn to the metaphor of quantum theory as applied to life. On a personal level, it translates into a simple realisation: I am not merely a character in my story, but a co-writer of it. I don’t just inhabit a script; I compose it as I go, each day a page, each hour a line written into being. This feels true not only in grand, existential ways, but also in the seemingly insignificant. Our perception of the world quietly alters the reality we

For the longest time, I held myself back from expressing my thoughts publicly. I believed that my thoughts were only fit to breathe in the space of journals hidden in my drawer. What could possibly pique interest in the writing of a 20-something woman. I never officially composed a poem, published a chapter for a book, or authored an article for any magazine, except my local school magazine. In other words I wasn't a certified, crowd approved or acclaimed 'creator' person. Be

Yeah - witchy women. You read that right. Witches that wield their own intuition and mystique as spells on others. And this witchcraft puts the world at their disposal. Witchcraft — not the kind with broomsticks, crystal balls, or tarot cards, but the craft of alchemy that can seduce, shape or break a spirit. Women were born with it. There was never a need to learn it. Its like our souls couldn't contain all that mystical and occult insights so it flowed into the curves of ou

Reverence over fame is like the classic case of quality over quantity. One viral meme and boom — you have a hundred followers. But the result of a well-researched book written over a span of two years, the culmination of one’s academic life — when a work like that enlightens minds and tops best-selling charts, that’s not a “famous” author. He is, what we call, revered in literary circles. And to hold reverence among a handful of serious readers rather than tasteless crowds w

What is life but sum total of moments yearning for the ecstatic self to be lit with pride with a stronger reinforcement of faith in ones abilities? I know of no more fruitful way to make my each day of my existence count than to witness, by the dawn of dusk, a slightly newer, more nuanced, more aware version of myself. Each day becomes a quiet quest to reveal and lift into the light those parts of myself that have long been buried, waiting to become a part of something greate

In moments when anxiety attacks me, I start to think about something way more stressful at the grand scale. (Just to belittle the cause of the present stress you know.) Like super grand. Mostly intangible stuff. Maybe something more consequential. Say, the confusion of my identities. At this given time and place. Am I secretly considered a traitor by most countrymen (and women) for being a minority where strong belief in a single totalitarian society equals deep rooted nation

This write-up seeks to highlight the need for censorship despite the public sentiment favouringtowards freedom of speech. Free speech and censorship are concepts that evade different spheres of human activity - creative expression, political expression, and even religious expression. However, the forms of censorship that have become most relevant in an increasingly polarized country like ours is the censorship of political statements made with a tendency to induce religious s