Artist
On maps, the ferry jetty was marked as a point from which people left. Maya had always thought it was the place where they arrived. She drove an Uber. Between rides she parked beneath the rain tree overlooking the water. The tea seller no longer asked what she wanted. HeContinue Reading
By the time Maya turned thirty-eight, she had already learned that modern relationships came with user agreements nobody read carefully until after emotional damage occurred. Some men shouted, some disappeared, some attended therapy twice. One boyfriend once slapped her during an argument and cried before she did, which felt deeplyContinue Reading
In Kochi, Maya lives in 312 square feet of negotiated existence. The building brochure calls it a “studio.” Her landlord calls it “compact luxury.” She has divided the room into zones without walls. Sleeping corner. Working corner. Existential crisis corner. All within arm’s reach Once, she wanted to be aContinue Reading
In Kallupuzha, a village that appears on Google Maps only if you zoom in with suspicion, Maya began expanding her consciousness the week the mosquitoes became unionized. She was thirty eight. Separated, not divorced, because divorce is paperwork but separation is performance art. Her partner who now sold organic jackfruitContinue Reading
The woman was born into a family that treated love like rationed kerosene: distributed sparingly, often with smoke. Her father believed affection was best expressed by raising his voice, and her siblings thought emotions were best handled like cricket balls, thrown hard and fast. Her first lover turned out toContinue Reading
സമയസഞ്ചാരം
മാഞ്ഞു പോകുന്ന ചിലത്
ഇരുട്ടു വിഘടിച്ചു വീണ്ടും ഇരുട്ടാകുന്ന വിധം
കവിത
BY THE RIVER: My Journey
ഇരുട്ടിനെ ഓർക്കുകയെന്നാൽ…
