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Getting better and making sense of shades and shadows one stroke at a time. Featuring one of the fierce women I've met ...
01/03/2026

Getting better and making sense of shades and shadows one stroke at a time. Featuring one of the fierce women I've met in my life ✨💖

Can my thoughts get any quirkier?
01/02/2026

Can my thoughts get any quirkier?

I generally love bus rides. Not because I can listen to songs, get into my zen mode, or just travel. But because buses i...
04/11/2025

I generally love bus rides. Not because I can listen to songs, get into my zen mode, or just travel. But because buses introduce you to people, all sorts of people. People with monthly passes, people with free tickets, students flashing their ID cards, and everyone with their own stories quietly tucked in their bags.

One day, I was taking a bus from my home to my in-laws’ house. It was a long ride, almost an hour and a half. Just fifteen minutes before I was about to reach, I noticed her. A woman, probably newly married. You could tell. She wore a wet mangalsutra, still dark yellow with turmeric, not yet dried. Her face had traces of turmeric too, giving her a golden glow. She looked beautiful, with a bright stone bindi, matching earrings, and tiny anklets that chimed softly.

Her heel chappal caught my eye. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was stylish, the kind that looks lovely but hurts by the end of the day. She carried two big shopper bags, packed with clothes and materials, probably gifts or things for her new home. Everyone from her family had already gotten into the bus, and she was the last to climb in, still holding those bags.

She managed to get in just before the bus started moving, steadying herself without falling. No one looked at her until she was safely inside. Only then did people notice her, a woman who seemed celebrated, radiant even, but invisible until that moment.

And that’s what stayed with me.

Because while she looked so happy and fresh in her new journey, I also saw her feet, cracked at the heel. A tiny detail that somehow told a different story. It made me wonder, why do women who look so cared for on the outside still carry small signs of being uncared for? Why do we try so hard to look fine when something within us quietly longs for care?







Every Indian mom has one standard dialogue: “We already have you, why do we need a dog?” And just like that, my dream of...
31/10/2025

Every Indian mom has one standard dialogue: “We already have you, why do we need a dog?” And just like that, my dream of having a pet was shut down every single time.

Back in 2023, or maybe 2024, my dad went for his morning walk. He walks at least four kilometers every day like it’s an Olympic event. That morning, when he stopped at a park to catch his breath, a tiny, weak cat dragged itself toward him and climbed onto his lap. The poor thing couldn’t even walk properly; it just pulled itself along the ground.

Now, my dad is a man who does one thing too well, that's love. He picked up the little one, tucked it gently inside his bike, and started home. And because he’s my dad, he stopped every 100 meters, opened the bike seat, and asked the cat, “You okay?” as if the cat would reply.

He came home very late, and of course, my mom was already preparing her “Where were you?” speech. When he said, “I brought home a cat,” her face had every emotion-shock, anger, and mild disbelief that she married this man. Meanwhile, I was jumping inside my head.

My mom, however, was not impressed. She had already raised rabbits, hens, dogs, cats, and birds back in Bangalore at my grandma’s house. After that lifetime of caretaking, she declared she was done with animals.

But months later, the woman who once yelled “I don’t want pets in this house” is now comparing cat food prices on Blinkit and Zepto, hunting for buy-one-get-one offers, and asking me to check cat food variety on Amazon. Recently, Doi brought home his girlfriend, and while my mom pretends to be angry, she’s now ordering two extra packets of Purepet for both.

Somewhere between “no pets allowed” and “buy one get one cat food,” love quietly sneaked into our house and decided to stay.

This one is for my little cat, Doi, who made us all fall in love without even asking. If you are wondering if he's alright, yes, he has turned into macho-catman, hence he picked up a chick.

This year has been a series of hospital visits and emergency runs. Twice admitted, a few times rushed in, and countless ...
30/10/2025

This year has been a series of hospital visits and emergency runs. Twice admitted, a few times rushed in, and countless doctor appointments in between. Somewhere between the tests, tablet allergies, steroids, and endless conversations about my health, I found myself exhausted from constantly being at war with my own body.

Inside me, there are two tiny cells that seem to love testing my immunity. Not viruses exactly, but little reminders that my body has its own mind. For the longest time, I fought them with frustration, tears, fear, and a constant stream of anxiety. The more I worried, the worse it got. The more I complained, the more they seemed to fight back.

One day, I sat with all of it. I took my sketchbook and started drawing a small version of myself, a little girl carrying all these big, tangled emotions. Around her were those two cells. One fighting for her. One fighting her.

That moment made me pause. What if I stopped fighting and made peace with them instead? What if, instead of seeing them as enemies, I saw them as companions trying to teach me something? Maybe they are just reminding me to slow down, to listen, and to live more gently with myself.

So here I am, choosing to make friends with my body. Even with the parts that confuse me, challenge me, and test me every single day. Because healing is not always about defeating what hurts. Sometimes it is about learning to live kindly with what stays.

This year has been a series of hospital visits, yes but also, a quiet return home to myself.

The warm afternoon sun glows on my skin as my family moves. This path, we know it deeply; our ancestors have walked it f...
29/10/2025

The warm afternoon sun glows on my skin as my family moves. This path, we know it deeply; our ancestors have walked it for ages. We follow the smells of the trees and the feel of the earth under our feet.

Lately, things have changed here in these Coimbatore foothills. The humans make more noise, and their buildings grow bigger. Just this morning, we came to it. That strange, hard box they call a "school." It's where their young ones go. But for us, it was just a sudden wall right on our ancient path.

This path takes us to the water, to the best places to eat. It's not just a way to go; it's a sacred map passed down for generations.

My great-grandmother walked this exact way. Every sound, every smell, guides us. To find this stiff, strange building where open land used to be like the earth itself has forgotten us.

We just walked through it, our large bodies moving with the quiet power of instinct. We weren't angry or trying to cause trouble. This is simply our way. This is our land. The building was just something in the way of a journey that's been going on for thousands of years.

As we moved on, we could still hear their voices faintly behind us. It makes me wonder: Do they not feel this land the way we do? Do they not hear the old calls of the wild that have always claimed these paths? Are they so focused on their small spaces that they forget the vast, connected life that's here?

Maybe they should try to see us differently, not as a problem, but as an ancient part of this very land. Can they learn to build not just for themselves, but to build with the land, understanding the paths we walk that they can't see? Can they remember that truly living together means knowing this earth belongs to more than just one kind of creature, and that our future together depends on respect, not just fences?

- said the little baby elephant

I was introduced to God very early in life. Not in a rigid way. But in small everyday ways. A gentle push to trust. A wh...
29/06/2025

I was introduced to God very early in life. Not in a rigid way. But in small everyday ways. A gentle push to trust. A whispered reminder to believe. At home, in the stories I heard, in the hands that folded in prayer, faith was passed on almost like memory.

Over the years, that faith slowly became mine. Not because someone told me to believe, but because life showed me why. I began to see God not just as someone I turned to when things went wrong, but as someone I turned to even when things went right.

Like when I finished school and walked into college, not just any college but one that felt right. When I got my first job. When I took my parents out with my first salary. When I bought the first smart television and felt like I brought in a small joy into our home. These may sound simple. But to me, they were quiet milestones, and each one carried grace. My hard work was there, yes. But I never felt alone in the journey. I always felt there was someone with me.

Sometimes it was God. Sometimes it was God in the form of people. My family. My partner. My mentors. The ones who held me, without always saying it.

This drawing is my way of returning. Not to ask, but to thank. It is my way of saying I see the thread that runs through it all. And I wanted to capture that moment of gratitude in a form that means the most to me. .

Here's a polite yet artistic way to break it off with bf or gf.. You can thank me later. 😎🤏🏻
29/06/2025

Here's a polite yet artistic way to break it off with bf or gf.. You can thank me later. 😎🤏🏻

The sky at Malpe was unusually wide that day. It almost felt like it was waiting. I had never flown a kite before. I had...
27/06/2025

The sky at Malpe was unusually wide that day. It almost felt like it was waiting. I had never flown a kite before. I had never held one or imagined how far it could go. But there I was, clumsily gripping a spool, chasing the wind with a kind of wonder I hadn’t felt in years. It felt wild and freeing. Like laughter with no sound.

Then, from the corner of my eye, I noticed him. A little boy with sand on his ankles and sunlight in his eyes. He was not running or shouting. He was just watching me, still like a question mark. His smile was soft, like he already knew the ending.

I stretched out my hand and offered him the thread. He did not speak. He simply ran toward me, as if joy had finally found a name. He wrapped the thread around himself like it was a game he knew by heart. As the kite soared higher, he did not just fly it. He became it.

I stood there, not as an adult or a stranger, but as someone quietly witnessing a kind of childhood I had never known. It may have come late for me. But sometimes, wonder finds its way back through someone else’s joy. What about you? Have you flown a kite?

Two friends walking through the heart of a village in Palakkadu, where life moves at its own rhythm. We paused under tre...
26/06/2025

Two friends walking through the heart of a village in Palakkadu, where life moves at its own rhythm. We paused under trees, laughed over small things, stepped into every other temple we passed, and exchanged blessings with strangers like it was the most natural thing to do. The streets were tilted with time, the homes full of quiet stories, and the people simply themselves — unfiltered, kind, and beautifully rooted. This moment wasn’t just a walk, it was a window into a way of living that felt deeply honest.

✨ Even in your darkest hour, you carry a glow the shadows can’t steal.Sometimes, you are the light you’ve been waiting f...
24/06/2025

✨ Even in your darkest hour, you carry a glow the shadows can’t steal.
Sometimes, you are the light you’ve been waiting for. 🌑💛

This song and this place ✨
15/02/2025

This song and this place ✨

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