Reclaiming Space
They were young, mostly students; some were beaten with batons, tear-gassed, slapped on camera, groped in full public view for being women…
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Choosing hope over fear
I walked into the protest yesterday simply intending to stand alongside the students for a while. Within minutes, someone had placed two…
Letters of Gratitude (LOG)7: A River in Mysore, and Sarabhai vs Sarabhai
We went to Bangalore for what was meant to be a few days. It became a month. Aditi and Vikas never once…
Letters of Gratitude (LOG)6: Move to Heal
We found Kabir Sir almost by accident, at a dance studio in Delhi. We took the metro there, the two of us,…
Letters of Gratitude (LOG)5: The Sa Re Ga Ma of Healing
My sister pushed me into this one. I resisted, the way siblings tend to do. Then I began attending weekend classes, and…
The Larger Picture
Refusing to Live in Black & White is one woman's account of widowhood. It was never meant to be the whole picture.…
Letters of Gratitude (LOG)4: A Doctor, Pain, and a Body That Kept Score
In the first year or two after Sanju died, my body started keeping records my mind had not agreed to. Both knees…
Letters of Gratitude (LOG)3: A Little Red Table at Mandi House
My son was enrolled in a children's theatre workshop at the Shri Ram Centre for Performing Arts, Mandi House, one summer. I…
Letters of Gratitude (LOG)2: Cardboard Boxes and Conversations
I moved into this house a few months after Sanju’s death. For the first several days, the house belonged to cardboard boxes.…
Letters of Gratitude (LOG) 1: A Library, and an Open Door
I went back to the library not knowing quite what I was looking for. I only knew that somewhere inside me, the…