A poem about my experience as a person from Kerala living in Maharashtra and how that’s shaped my sense of identity.
From Syrian atrocities to the raping of minors to everyday political moves that result in gross devastation, how do we address our own apathy in an increasingly disastrous world?
Here’s to us; to the girls we were, the women we became, and to the women we’re yet to be.
In 2016, a whale washed up on Mumbai's shore. This poem is about that incident and our 'spectator culture'.
No money, no food, no grain in the mill, none to foot the mushrooming bills.
Before the gate was constructed, we had free access to those natural reserves of equality, logic and free thinking.
A poem about the monotony of our technology-filled lives – what's real anymore and what's not?