I remember grief being heavy: I was carrying a dull, dead weight. It was enervating. I......

In the garden, we saw a cat flex its body to take a shit. It watched......

Kabir Deb: The voices in a writer’s head are considered as the source of what they want to document....

Coming to Bombay in the late 90’s, long before ‘maximum city’ was a leitmotif for the......

what is it about theatre artist mallika taneja’s practice that has interested me ever since ‘be careful’...

When they saw her closing her eyes for the first time, they knew death had arrived......

I can’t help but feel like I’m waiting to catcall you. Like I’ve watched you pass......

I first chanced upon the Hungryalists while reading Deborah Baker’s book, A Blue Hand, where she......

My eyes devouredthe exotic blackness on thepink stone loaded with historylying in the dark corner ofthe......