Laddu is on the kitchen island, her legs dangling off the edge. Large sunglasses cover more than half her face.
The sambar bubbles merrily on the back stove. The vegetables in the sambar are just done, not mushy, not too
“You are burning up!” I yell at someone in my dream. The feeling is too real. I wake up with
I sit between two women at the tae kwon do class my twins are at. We trade smiles each time
I woke up to outrage on social media yesterday over the remarks of a minor celeb in India following Women’s
Two years ago, I turned in my badge, laptop and everything else that signified I had a corporate persona. I
We set off, Laddu and I each morning. Today she is in an orange dress, a ball of sunshine herself.
Laddu is on her chair, the booster seat enabling to see the food in front of her. Saathi and I
“What does your dad do for a living?” I ask the twins. “Cut” answers Ammu. “Clean” answers Pattu. I repeat
Hold that thought right there. No, this is not another post debating the relative merits of working or not working.
Emails. Folders. Badges. Tokens. I had them all cleared, lined up and ready to return. As I shut the laptop