It is early in the morning. The kids are still asleep. It is one of those rare weekend mornings when
In the midst of stir-frying a melange of vegetables for my children’s’ lunchbox, I reach out for my phone. I
Pattu enters through the garage, her backpack sliding off her shoulder and her right hand clutching a patterned paper bag.
I walk around the house mid-morning, my eyes scanning for things to put away or trash. I am tired of
Dear kutties, My Amma bought a diamond earring for me when I was in sixth grade. My first saree happened
I stood by the kitchen island watching the refrigeration technician take our freezer apart. The door, the motor, the fan,
I met Lorraine exactly two years ago today at a Writer’s Conference in Philadelphia. We met on the train to
“Can I towel myself off?” “Can I put Aveeno all by myself?” “Can you help me with my shirt?” “Can
Our Daughters, the documentary that has been almost two years in the making now is a recipient of the CAAM
Pattu bounds down the stairs each morning, a full hour before her sister Ammu wakes. Some days she hugs me
Laddu is on the kitchen island, her legs dangling off the edge. Large sunglasses cover more than half her face.
“How do you open this thing?” Laddu’s cry is plaintive as she wrestles with a miniature Hawkins pressure cooker. I
I am peeling potatoes by the sink, the window practically pointless because of how dark it is outside. The red
I circle the school parking lot a couple of times before resigning and finding a spot in the grass farthest
I walk around my home, my iWatch tracking my steps, urging me to walk 11 minutes more at a brisk
I roam the aisles of Target as I wait for prescriptions to be filled. Laddu’s hand is in mine. She
Please take 10 minutes of your time to listen to Samira Ahmed, author of an upcoming young adult novel Internment.
Saathi’s voice modulates up and down to match Laddu’s enthusiasm at the little table by the kitchen island. Laddu is
Coiled. Tight. Uneasy. That is how I feel most evenings. A deep-seated unease has taken hold. A discontent that I
The clock is yet to strike 8:00 am. The twins and Saathi have left for school and work. Laddu is
The sambar bubbles merrily on the back stove. The vegetables in the sambar are just done, not mushy, not too