Homecoming
It was during a conversation with a friend at a fancy cafe that I realized the unthinkable has happened: I am homesick for a place I only just left. I have imagined my homecoming many times—hell, I lived for it—but now that I’m actually home, I miss home more than ever. Lately, when I allow myself to open up, I realize I speak of my time there as if it were my "real" life—a narrative currently on hiatus while I play a part here. It is a disorienting, circular grief; ironicall
3 days ago4 min read
Why Are You So Concerned, Fool?
The blue pill was supposed to fix capitalism. The little yellow one was meant to cure his loneliness. But neither did either of the tasks well, so Ray decided to skip them both that day. Ray remembered voicing his concerns to his doctor which inevitably led to the addition of a green pill for being “batshit crazy”. Ray nowadays would sit and stare at the primary color palette on his palm: blue for the depression, yellow for the anxiety, and green for the madness. He spent hi
Feb 254 min read
The Permanent Roommate
I don’t remember the day he moved in, not exactly. He just arrived one random Tuesday years ago and never left. When I introduced myself to my new roommate, I was met with cold indifference; it seemed the Shadow liked to keep to himself. You see, he had only signed a short-term lease. He was supposed to leave a fortnight after his arrival, a temporary guest passing through the hip hostel of my mind. But the deadline came and went, and he never packed his bags. I politely trie
Feb 66 min read
Ray didn’t send a reel today. Did he die?
Ray’s days begin with a familiar, mechanical pattern. He wakes up, checks his notifications, ignores every single one, and migrates to Instagram. There, he is met with the hypnotic, fractured world of “Reels.” He likes to think of himself as one of the few souls blessed by the algorithm gods, making his feed a truly unpredictable theater of the absurd. One moment, he is watching a somber analysis of a 19th-century ghazal; the next, if he makes the mistake of scrolling into th
Jan 224 min read
Who was Ms. K?
The day was just beginning in New York. Like usual, I had brewed my morning coffee and was scrolling through the news when my mother called. 'Ms. K passed away today.' I set down my coffee and made polite inquiries about the funeral before hanging up. I stared out the window at the familiar, jagged skyline, but my mind was already thousands of miles away. Who was Ms. K? To the adults, she was a set of symptoms and a source of pity. They spoke about her 'condition' in hushed t
Jan 183 min read
Cracks
Mr. Jana was cleaning my apartment the week he was fired. He and I, we used to have small chats whenever he came there to clean, which was usually once a week. That was probably because I spoke manageable Hindi, enough to be at par with his cocktail of Bengali and Hindi — which probably was more than what most people he worked with could do. After his first day of work and what was expected of him was well established, he would walk in quietly upon being let in, open the balc
Jan 37 min read
Hotel Room Service
Cancun was supposed to be easy. Spring break, turquoise water, wristbands, all-inclusive meals, a week of not thinking. That was the deal. You fly in, put on your shorts and fancy shades, and forget who you are for a while. The city is built to make that happen. Every street bends gently toward American comfort — dollars accepted everywhere, menus translated before anyone even asks, music loud enough to drown out anything that might feel complicated. I stayed in a huge proper
Dec 31, 20254 min read
