My great-grandmothers tell me that the struggle to find my own happiness is no less heroic than tales of women who fought wars or went to space.
I don't want to live a productive life if it means giving up my joy.
Forgive me, for my heart can only hold your love and never your death.
The experience hardly encapsulated what it means to be 'divyang' or 'the one with divine limbs'.
After the Pulwama incident, a new fear had crept into my psyche: a fear of terrorists, which went against my own rationality.