“So my April 1st was March 24th. How, you ask? We were to move homes on 1st April, but we were pushed to do so on March 24th, because of the Pandemic, whose noose hung over us, like a flickering bulb, that was on the verge of going on, rather than off.”
When Usha asked me when this dark period would end- I had no answer. No one has an answer. What I do know is that it is in how we treat those who serve us, and those who work with and for us, is a reflection of this world, staring right back at us.
It was also inventive, this childhood; fresh food crowding our tables and kids of all ages could dash in and out of each other’s homes, picking at pickles, breads or chapatti rolls without a thought for etiquette; childish patter resounded, and laughing loudly for no reason (other than at a mate who’d been clumsy).
It is a hard journey in a country like ours, where trans are regarded as half and half- whereas they are wholly one gender or the other, trapped as it were, in the wrong body. I’ve been alerted to the existence of such folk, and the government, bless them, has provided for a third gender
He arrived home, oozing out of my husband’s arms, 3 months old. I could scarcely believe my eyes, a massive auburn beauty, with limbs splayed in every possible direction. It was love at first touch, soft brown fur, and pendulous ears, swaying rhythmically – a gorgeous...
A script and screenwriting workshop in a haven called Himalayan Writer’s Retreat nestled in the mountains at Satkhol (3 hours from the plains at Kathgodam) en route via Bhimtal. It was an enriching experience with participants from all over India and abroad. Anu Singh Choudhary who has co-scripted many screenplays such as Aryaa, mentored us with great patience and panache. The four-day workshop was a great learning experience. And in such an idyllic environment too.
We aren’t here on earth in order to bend over backward to resemble everybody else. We’re here to be ourselves, in all our gnarly brilliance.