Say My Name, Say My Name
My name belongs to me, but I’m seldom it.
Would You Help Drape Your Son’s Saree?
Yes, this generation is of ‘today’ but if the adults don’t rectify their speech, their children will learn about love more slowly.
Autumn’s Languish, Languid
I greeted autumn with bitterness this year. Toronto deprived me of it for longer and only provided a mediocre season. The trees were barely colourful, and they struggled to rescue me from all my burdens. In envying my welcoming reception of autumn last year, I’ve begun seeing today’s autumn as a foe.
A Brief Critique in Comparison: Lahiri’s Whereabouts vs Ghosh’s Gun Island
Even though Whereabouts validated my pessimism around the impact of these diasporas in recent works of Indian fiction, Ghosh’s Gun Island, in an intrinsically antonymous manner, enthralled me with adoration for works set in India.
