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Continue reading →: A letter to our families
It starts when you’re young. When you’re really, really young. It starts when you’re just a toddler and are asked to wear a dupatta over your salwar kameez. You don’t even have breasts, but how does that matter? Guys have wild imaginations. Have some shame. It starts when your cousins don’t…
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Continue reading →: We are.
My little brother and I played many imaginative games with our toys as kids. Some involved high speed car chases, while some were tear-inducing family dramas. In the evenings we rode our cycles around the neighbourhood, or climbed the kachnar tree or played in the park. Mangu (as we all…
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Continue reading →: When we meet again
When I see you again, I’ll ask you, If you still have dried patches of toothpaste on your T-shirts. And whether you often drift off in movie theaters. Do you still not comb your hair? Do you still tuck it behind your ears when it gets long? When I…
Hello,
I’m Astha
Welcome to my blog. I use this space as a pensieve: a place to store my memories and feelings. It’s a rest house. An easy chair. A watering hole for the soul. I’m glad you’re here. Take a look around, make yourself at home ☕
Butterflies and Hurricanes 