Published Work
Leopard Sightings
Mother is not home when I arrive, even though I had called ahead of time. It has been three years. The distance has turned me into a tourist in my own backyard. I take the lane that zigzags through our village, hugging the houses in the most haphazard way. Nothing...
Hungry Ancestors
Every year, on the heels of monsoons, when the mountains are freshly washed and our valley is exuberant with green, the ancestors arrive. Even before I open my eyes, my body wakes to my grandmother Beji’s cooking. At five years old, I’m more hers than Ma’s. Since...
This photograph is wrongly captioned – published in Setu Bilingual, August 2025
It’s her lipstick that piques my interest. A blood red crescent drawn precisely in the middle of her full mouth, like a young Geisha’s, except the pigment doesn’t keep within the confines of her lips but extends down her chin in a sharp line. Is it meant to look like...
I dreamt I orbited high above the deepest reaches of the Earth’s core where Wisdom winters – published in FlashFlood
When it was time, I stepped into the bath full of spider webs. Some quivered with rage. Some crackled like silence does, like pomegranate seeds do. I crusted over their collective mutiny of light, shimmer, shade, and thought to myself—it’s time to rest my maudlin...
Of Songs, Thresholds, and Slippers – published in the Epistemic Literary. Finalist for the Genrepunk Wildcard Award 2025
A new song sung; nay, belted out by a familiar female voice floods the car as Idrive to the library one morning— Main thaare paon ki jutti na Ke jad jee kare per li utaar di I’m not the slipper on your footthat you use and discard at your whim I dial up the volume....
“What about Mummy’s saris?” I ask my father after thirty years – published in FlashFlood, June 2024
“Tsk…later, eat these first.” Daddy points to piping hot samosas. ‘Got them specially for you.’ It’s been thirty years. He doesn’t know I’ve turned gluten free. I ask again. “We must’ve given them to the maids or something…it’s been thirty years.” “Not even one?”...
Yeti and the Sewing Machine – published in the Porch Litmag, June 2024
One Wednesday in August, I decide to haiku and eulogize my mother. Not at the same time, of course. I could never fit a haiku around my Ma. 17 syllables would be far too many for her euphony. Ghrrrrrrr ghrrrrrrrr ghrrrrrrr was the only sound she made; even before she...
Questions Frida Kahlo wanted to ask but painted ‘The Love Embrace, the Universe, the Earth (Mexico), Diego, Me and Senor Xoloti’ instead – published in the USAWA Literary, May 2024
Is this love? Is mossy green the right shade for Earth? Why doesn’t love last? Why doesn’t blood? Why does this longing? How to paint gnawing? Can’t figure out and yet I paint brokenness, roots—why? Where did I read about Shiva’s third eye? Did they say it symbolizes...
Hush – published in the USAWA Literary, May 2024
When I was young, I saw whispers escape the fog of their memories and spread on the kitchen floor. They sat facing the fire burning the timber of tales of partition in such a way that it sealed the knots, grain of every pain felt, seen, heard—of sisters who jumped...
Aap, Hum and Comfort in a Banarasi Traffic Jam – published in The Hoogly Review, March 2024
Subah Banaras, shaam Banaras Rehta har dum jam Banaras Morning Banaras, evening Banaras Stuck forever in a jam (traffic) Banaras Khatt-khatt-khattak—khatt-khatt-khattak—the rhythm of the train, a lazy sun, trees, shrubs, grass—snuggled, smothered under winter fog,...