Shefali scrambles through her day cooking and cleaning homes in Delhi. It’s backbreaking work that starts at the break of dawn and doesn’t end till well past sundown. But, she didn’t always live this life of a lowly paid, classless migrant worker struggling to make ends meet in a large confounding city. In fact, she and her husband owned land, a store and a fulfilling life in the Sundarbans.
When most Indians are celebrating Diwali and Rama’s return to Ayodhya after vanquishing the demon king Ravana, it is overshadowed … More
When I was growing up, shashti was my most exciting day. We wore our first set of pujo clothes, and I couldn’t … More
I have been hesitant to write this, even though it’s been a while since I read the book. After all, … More
Reposting with a new image. This post is from 2014. When my father died last summer, so did my childhood. … More
We observed my mother’s Shraddha. That day is blurry but I am sure that we blindly went through the rituals … More
Dec 12, 2015: 196 nations agreed to respond to climate change by keeping a global temperature rise this century well below … More
Adapted The United Faces of America to a single color image. Pulled some test prints on newsprint. Step #2: Experiment with … More
After I had moved to Delhi , pujo was a time, just like Maa Durga, to be with my parents, … More
Summer is almost over, as are the monsoons. The mangoes are most definitely gone, but here I am, still trying … More
Almost everyone in my architecture school adored momos. We relished it often. Not satisfied with its war on Maggi, the … More
It’s been a little over 4 years since my father passed away, unexpectedly. Inherent in its suddenness is also a thankfulness … More
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