She tries to heal. But the cotton balls that she put on her wounds after those dark encounters of childhood only grow with time.
An encounter with Islamophobia that cut a deep wound in my teenage psyche, and forever changed the way I view the game of cricket.
'War is an adult game / Where no one wins / Everyone loses / Where you and I are the victims.'
A poem on dysmenorrhea, the medical term for painful menstrual cycles.
A poem on a disastrous relationship with a narcissist.
Gauri Lankesh was shot dead on September 5, 2017, on Teachers' day. This poem is a tribute to Lankesh.
This poem is about the futile wait for a good time, or love.
This poem is about my birthday, my country's birthday, the flag politics and the wound that never heals.
This poem is about the callousness of some break-ups.
This poem is about what it means to be a mother of a Muslim child in today's India.