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pensivepiscean
It is a warm and lazy afternoon. I am on my mother’s bed, listening to the ceiling fan humming, trying to squeeze in a power nap. The door is nudged open and he enters, tottering slowly to his bed, emitting… Continue Reading →
Last week I went for a pop-rock concert. After enduring two hours of Bengaluru traffic, waiting in a queue to enter the arena and using a disgusting port-a-loo, we jostled through clumps of people at varied states of inebriation to… Continue Reading →
“We all have to live with the parts of ourselves that are broken and find a way to be happy.” Sarai Walker’s book ‘Dietland’ has been adapted into a TV series with one season released so far. I haven’t yet… Continue Reading →
The earliest memory I have of honest writing was when I was 12. Although I’d kept a diary since I was eight, up to that point it composed mostly of details of – silly daily rants, tiffs with friends, boys… Continue Reading →
Teach her to stare at her reflection so hard till skin and bones melt off and all that remains is her quiet soul glittering like a sequinned Milky Way. Teach her it’s okay to say ‘Fuck’ and ‘Pussy’ and that… Continue Reading →
Konkona Sen Sharma’s directorial debut is as expected- a film that progresses slowly with little plot and music (save for two renditions of Aud Lang Syne and two folk songs) and somehow still manages to stay with you like an… Continue Reading →
I remember that warm afternoon We sifted through books and tapes Trying to decide which ones to keep Suddenly you were beside me Resting your head upon my shoulder Breath condensing against skin Ignoring the intention, I hummed on You… Continue Reading →
Suppose my head exploded What would you see Hidden amidst the smithereens of pink, pulpy flesh A frozen frame of the last dream My last coherent thought at the edge of a smoking gun Broken lobes, blood and fat Is… Continue Reading →
I’m struggling to understand the shock expressed at the magnitude of the #metoo affirmations. This revelation was made to me when I was fifteen, at a slumber party with eight or nine other girls. When we were exhausted from indulging… Continue Reading →
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