“How does traversing sacred and lived terrain alter the architecture of memory?”
There are some family trips where you remember the hotel. Some where you remember the food. Some where you remember the destination. And then there are trips where the main memory is a completely stupid joke that nobody outside the car would understand. For us, it was khadda and gaddha. It was around 2010. We […]
Read the story →“Although odd, clear memories of infancy are not extremely rare.”— Paramhansa Yogananda, Autobiography of a Yogi (Chapter 1) Balloons and Beginnings My earliest memory is simple. I am four years old, standing with my brother and cousin, blowing balloons. The house is buzzing with excitement — a newborn cousin is coming home from the hospital. […]
Read the story →You may call it a myth but I choose to see it as history.You may call it exaggeration but I choose it as a belief, as an anchor. In August 2025, my journey through Sri Lanka carried me into the hills of Nuwara Eliya. And while there were many places to see, one stood above […]
Read the story →The world is a chisel— blunt or sharp, it strikes. But I learned: even dust can become mountains. I am the boulder.I am the blade. Stop waiting. Shape the stone. Let it split. Let it scar. Your hands, your rebellion. Break the boulder. Break it smaller. Smooth the edges, carve the core. Until the thing […]
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