Two years ago, I interned at a government affiliated Psychiatric facility in Assam. On my first day, I was told that the two other psychology interns and I were at the bottom of the food chain. I soon discovered that that was inaccurate- we were in the crater hidden under that bottom. Religiously, rounds to…
Ihave had the misfortune of encountering several men (and women) who have called me ‘hysterical’ or ‘too emotional’ at the slightest provocation. I refer to debates with men who claim to be guardians of a country’s cultural fabric- which is somehow solely contingent on a woman’s uterus. I also talk of the generation that cannot…
Mayer, Mystery, and Mayhem Inthe aftermath of the most ‘gut-wrenching’ break up of my life; I hopped my way in and out of despair. And initially, I did what I thought level-headed people do: I exhausted myself with work. I would study for over 12 hours a day, and sleep only when my lids were…
Part 6: The Final Chapter I grew up in Assam. And around every Assamese New Year, like a loyal but merciless relative, the Bordoisila (monsoon winds) greets the plains with loud and lofty disruption. The morning after comprises debris of a year gone by– uprooted flora, displaced rooftops, wilted harvest. On the first day of…
Part 5: Taken for a ride Have you ever been shaken out of a reality that took you ages to fit into? Let us make use of a cliched parenting trick to understand this. Imagine yourself as a typical adolescent who often gets into trouble. Your parents play the ‘boarding school’ card, and in a…
Part 4: The silly thing about love (and laughing together) To begin telling you this story, I have to start at the beginning. And while that sounds like the beginning of a riddle, it is really a matter of serendipitous accidents. It has (now) been a year since I arrived in Mumbai. And I have…
Part 3: The Silly thing about love We were talking about stories last time; some old, some rusty and some new. Today I want to introduce you to the characters of my story. I am an atypical person in many ways and I am not necessarily proud of that. I live in a building of…
Part 2: The Cuckoo Outside my window: Rewriting narratives. Despite living on the 23rd floor, I would be woken up by the sound of cars honking on the road every morning. Like I mentioned, Mumbai didn’t sleep. But every morning after that night, Mumbai seemed to be in a state of fragmented slumber. And from…
I traveled across five Indian states in the peak of summer for five days: on a bus, during a pandemic outbreak, and the strictest nation-wide lock down in history. I carried with me a bag stuffed with clothes I didn’t know I would need and the baggage of an uncertain future. Part 1 During his…
In 2020, my father had a difficult time attending official meetings online. Ready in a clean shirt and a pair of ironed pants with nowhere to go, he would fumble with his laptop and look at me for help. Like the world around him, he tried to adapt to unprecedented changes in expected behaviour. His…
