Dear Conscience, I am writing from a place where the signal sometimes drops. Not metaphorically, but literally. There are stretches here in the Himalayas where the network hesitates, messages stall mid-sentence and meaning buffers. It is in these pauses that I begin to hear other things again. I hear the wind rustling through the forest in my backyard, the stream trickling over a dry winter,…
Dear Mr Dickens, I write to you once again, in dire need of answers. Having finished David Copperfield with immense delight, I naturally proceeded, without rest or restraint, to another of your mammoths, Bleak House. And what an opening it is. London swallowed by fog, the air thick with implication. I know in my bones that I shall love this book dearly as the other…
Dear Mr Dickens, I hope you will forgive this intrusion. I realise it is poor manners to summon a gentleman from his grave but I have been living with A Tale of Two Cities all week and you have left me no peace. Do you suppose that this might be one of your more accomplished works? It’s terribly tight and tidy. At the same time,…
Dear Big A, You may not realise it, but you’ve just pulled off a quiet coup. You made the call first. Somewhere between a game of chess and a YouTube rabbit hole on Rucka Rucka Ali, you decided you wanted school. I spent weeks circling the idea like a nervous mom on trial for taking her kids out of the schooling system and then being…
The home of our neighbourly creatures, namely the deers, hares, tigers, monkeys and birds
Dear Meena, You left us too soon. In a blink of an eye, you were gone. We were stumped and numbed and anaesthetized.To reflect on mortality in the wake of your departure, taken away so quietly from the clasp of your beloveds, a murkiness so thick and stifling surfaces. It stirs the insides, like a nauseating whirlwind. And then, a sudden void lingers so cold and…