"These monkeys came from the plains," M says as we climb up the path to Naulikant, from where we will get our gadi, the one that's coming to take us to the tehsil office in Kherna where I plan to get...
Pest control was never my strong suit, but circumstances have led me to know more about fleas than I would have liked. They, the fleas, rob me of hearty dreams; I wake up in the middle of the night, s...
I sweep, I mop, I rinse, I dry. I didn't always, relying not so long ago on others more willing, through love or money or selflessness or obligation, to do my dirty work for me, because I could afford to outsource it. Labour, when done as an act of responsibility, is never dirty. It is also never noble. It just is.
I don't know why I thought moving to a village in the hills of Uttarakhand would be easy. Maybe because I don't like people all that much. Maybe because I prefer resourcefulne to consumerism. Maybe b...
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Anger. Frustration. Fear. Shame. Disgust. Over and over again. This is what I felt as I watched this video. All 18 minutes and 58 seconds of it. Watch this video, and for starters, feel something.
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Suffering, like everything else in the world, can now be boxed in a space I choose to enter when empathy is in vogue, to exit when the next episode of my favourite show is on, enter to sign a petition, exit to order in, enter to share a two-minute video, exit to avoid a two-page report.
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Sunlight wedges through the edge of a closed curtain, drapes a slit of yellow on the corner of a white-linen bed, and tucks itself behind the adjoining table's crocheted cotton. It is a peaceful beauty, one I am unaccustomed to. Cushioning the fall of sound, cream-coloured carpet greets naked feet with a hush. It's a clean, pristine, dustless world. Welcome, to a bedroom in Washington.
Be warned. This is not me talking about knitting. Not really. Knitting is just the process I engage in. It's not what I do. What I do -- as the needles sing, clinking against each other, the matte metal zinging in a tiny bubble of yarn, as the knot slides out gently, magically, as the fuzz of the string lazes on my leg -- is exist. In that moment I exist. And I am at peace.