For my fierce grandma (May 1927-Jan 2025). I feel lost. I am still at the periphery of her looming presence in my life, not sure what the void holds, and afraid to enter. The grief will come, surely, slowly and engulf me in waves soon. But it is time to let her go, let her fly.

An origin story poem from my lens - encapsulating Kolkata, Gujarat, Bahrain and every other place in between.

Ireland - the Emerald Isle left me in a state of wonder. The verdant sheep-dotted valleys, the castles. But the Cliffs of Moher took my imagination to another level.

Such unexpected joy when I heard that my submission was chosen as a finalist in the Sundress Publications 2024 Poetry Broadside Contest. Doubly grateful that it was for a poem about my grandma - whose loss I feel keenly every day, some days more than others. This is perhaps her way of assuring me that she is still very much present and visits me often, both in moments of despair or delight. Thank you, universe.

Dec 16th, on the 250th anniversary of Jane Austen’s birth, I feel so honored, privileged and grateful to have visited her cottage in Hampshire earlier this fall. Equally excited and thankful that my piece on her was accepted by Dandelion Revolution Press and published on this date.