A Mind Awake

My Inner Monologue During Small Talk ( A humorous take - What I say vs. what I'm actually thinking during everyday torture sessions )   I was at the grocery store yesterday, reaching for the last packet of milk, when a hand appeared from the opposite direction. We both froze. Our eyes met. And then came those well-rehearsed greetings you could utter in your sleep… "Oh, hi! How are you?" I knew this person. I think. Maybe from my housing society? Or was it my friend’s birthday party? Regardless, my brain knocked on every door of its memory bank before kicking into full panic mode, while my mouth, operating on autopilot, cheerfully replied, "I'm great! How are you?" What followed was three minutes of conversation that felt like three hours. And the entire time, my inner monologue was having a complete meltdown. Let me take you inside my head during these everyday torture sessions we call "small talk." The "How Are You?" Trap What I say: ...

                                           A Matter of Trust                                                  Honesty doesn't always protect you. But it always defines you. Savitri lived with her three children in a small one-room home in a slum area of the city. Her husband, a cycle-rickshaw driver, had died six months earlier after a long illness. Since then, life had become a relentless calculation of work, food, school fees and tomorrow. She worked in six or seven homes, starting at six every morning. She washed utensils, swept and mopped floors, dusted furniture, watered plants, cut vegetables and did whatever other work was offered. Her hands were often rough and sore, but she never complained. She had always believed in one thing: whatever...

        The Geography of a Memory      Why certain places remember versions of us that no longer exist   There is something strange about returning to a place after many years. You expect to recognise the place. You don't expect the place to recognise you. And yet, sometimes it does. A familiar neighbourhood can bring back a version of you that you haven't thought about in years. A neighbour remembers the child you once were. A teacher remembers the student who sat in a particular classroom. A road reminds someone of the walk they used to take every evening. The details may have changed. The road may be wider. A building may have disappeared. A temple may look completely different. And yet, something remains. Not necessarily in the architecture. In the memory. Recently, I was thinking about how two people can return to the same city after decades and begin identifying pieces of their younger lives. “This used to be here.” ...

                    Who Gets to Decide What's Normal?                                        Who decided what's normal anyway? Discover why normalcy is subjective, how it evolves                                                           with time, and why celebrating our differences matters more than fitting into someone else's definition.   Normalcy isn't a fixed standard—it's a moving target that shifts with perspective, time, and context. You're abnormal to those who can't understand you—and they're abnormal to you. Normalcy is subjective. Discover why celebrating differences in thought and ability matters more than fitting someone else's mold. Normal is boring. Normal is ordi...