Essays
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Fall, Pico, Alteration: The Tailors Who Don’t Make Clothes
Unsung, unseen, but always on time.. almost Somewhere in Mylapore, Chennai They don’t design, cut, or create. They don’t have Pinterest boards or boutique signage. But they are the ones who make sure your clothes live, long after you’ve outgrown them, shrunk away from them, or simply changed your mind. These are not the tailors of… Continue reading
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Dressed for Silence
On disappearing, dressing down, and choosing clothes that don’t speak for you A dress is just a kurta that went to therapy.A personal essay on what I wore, what I refused, and the quiet power of dressing for no one. In my twenties, I wore clothes that let me disappear, loose kurtas that blended into… Continue reading
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DIY Goddesses and YouTube Devotion
How long-form kitchen videos taught me care, confidence, and the appeal of a ₹3200 brass kadhai. The first time I heard Nisha Madhulika’s voice, I was in my very tiny kitchen in my Bombay home, armed with misplaced confidence and one too many unripe tomatoes. My mother was out of town. The cook was on… Continue reading
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Nights in White Satin
[Representative Image generated using AI] Why does one feel friendlier and more social when visiting another city? Maybe it’s the thought of yet another room service dinner of rice and yellow dal, or perhaps it’s the loneliness of hotel rooms creeping in, making everything feel a little unsafe. You start longing for familiarity—who better to… Continue reading
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Cupcakes are for the weak
[Representative Image generated using AI] The day I got my diagnosis, was a Tuesday mid-morningish. At this point, having spent so much time mastering the fine art of procrastinating my bath-time, I was sitting in my filth on the giant sofa. Amma was making valiant attempts to guilt-trip me into having a bath, but I… Continue reading
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Prisoner to Patterns
[Representative Image generated using AI] Some years back, I read Ameen Merchant’s “The Silent Raga.” Its premise piqued my curiosity, drawing me in because of its resonance with my cultural context. You see, I used to be unabashedly parochial at one point (because I was young and stupid, I suppose). I was the type who… Continue reading
Primalsoup 