The first time I walked into an indoor playspace for toddlers, I felt wistful. I wish I could have taken Vani and Ammol to places like this when they were little. There was a pink carousel made of the softest pink ponies moving in slow motion that…
The first time I walked into an indoor playspace for toddlers, I felt wistful. I wish I could have taken Vani and Ammol to places like this when they were little. There was a pink carousel made of the softest pink ponies moving in slow motion that…
Be water. Unstoppable. A melt from capped peaks, Gaining speed. Taking with you, a bit of everything. Making a mark without making a mark. And as you approach The pebbles sing. Be water. Deep, mysterious. Familiar. A sorceress. Quenching. Teaching. Soothing. Music-making. Amorphous. The dew…
I got four teenagers up before 7am. By 7.33 am I had gotten them unplugged from their devices that they auto-gravitated to (first big challenge after shaking them and making them sit up in delirious shock), hustled them to connect with their toothbrushes, got them…
We are Keralites. My father, who came to Mumbai first, came here because he was transferred from the British company he worked to the government of India enterprise it turned itself into. However it was my mother, who cajoled him to taking up the offer…
In a country of over 1.2 billion people, when a book sells 5,000 copies (0.007% of the population) and we call it a bestselling book, we ought to wonder if we are a population (and this is a global phenomenon) that is gradually becoming illiterate….
For all of us, our year began with August. Two birthdays, two people to make cards for and payasaam made twice. But for me, the year really opened in September. It was my sister Chinnu’s birthday. When I think of my sister Chinnu, Renuka, I…
What does Onam mean to a second generation migrant Malayali who has never celebrated Onam in Kerala? Let it stand on record: my favourite festival is Vishu, the Christmas of my life. Why? Because of the money coming our way, a bounty we awaited breathlessly,…
I come from a family of storytellers. No one told us how to structure a story—that a story should have a beginning, the middle of the story was the discovery or that a twist in the tale was the best way to end a short…
When I think of my mom I remember her soft white belly. It is so strange that when I have to summon a memory of my mother this is what comes up. Not her face, not her words, not some laughter moment. Her belly. She…