grief
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Malkosh
Life goes on. The TV is back on, even if something has shifted Nobody tells objects. That’s the thing. The package arrives at the door, scanned and sorted and dispatched through a chain of human effort so elaborate it borders on devotion, and it has no idea. The algorithm that predicted the purchase, the warehouse… Continue reading
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The Lives I Didn’t Live (But Asked AI To Render Anyway)
AI-generated image: my mother and me at the Taj Mahal, a trip we never took. Forgive me, for I have mid-journeyed. I asked the machine to bring my grandmother back, not as she was when she died.. frail, sharp, and opinionated, but as a young woman standing in front of the Eiffel Tower, a place… Continue reading
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Without Her
Five years ago, fifty-five days after my mother passed away, I made a video I never planned to share. This is what I understand now, watching it again. Grief doesn’t announce itself. It brews tea. Lights incense. Scrolls Instagram. Five years ago, fifty-five days after I lost my mother, I made a short film. It… 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
Primalsoup 