Haircuts were like wanting to touch your nose with your tongue; impermissible, unless you were a giraffe. “Hair is beauty, hair is gift and hair is a treasure that has to be nursed and nurtured like a li’l baby”- this resonated within the walls of my house to a point where I realised even the … Continue reading Tresse-meh



March 1993. Bombay was in the middle of a blood bath. Ever since the demolition of Babri Masjid in Ayodhya, on December 6th 1992, there were riots everywhere. Mobs pelting stones, burning vehicles and looting houses. Mamma was 26, working in Bandra Holy Family Hospital at the time. She, like many other women of her … Continue reading Mom.1993.Bombay

Train Diaries

Waiting for Plop “I WILL FALL IN THE HOLE WHEN THE TRAIN MOVES, I CAN’T POO POO MAMMA”, screamed my little boy cousin and ran down the passageway of Kerala Express. My bewildered aunt was close behind. Catching hold, she desperately tried convincing him. “I’ll hold you mone. You won’t fall in. It’s been two … Continue reading Train Diaries