Dadi’s Garden

I wanna go back 😭. I spent the first six years of my life here. This specific window led to my grandmother’s tiny garden. Every once in a while she would have it opened to tend to the plants. We both would stand on this side of the window watching the plants being watered or…

Growing Up

I was raised by dadi, wise and bold, a book in one hand, and a watering can in the other, flowering her rooftop plants. Waking up, at the crack of dawn, the sun stretching and yawning. She whispers. SubhanAllah

Memories Unforgotten

The one person I always have in my mind is dadi, my grandmother. Not that my parents aren’t there. They are there, but dadi is a bit exceptional. She’s my special person. I think the saddest moment of my life was when I was separated from her. I still remember the day baba asked me,…

She Weaves Me A Casket

Weaving, etching meanings without words. Weaving memories, reaping love; I mimic her tune. Weaving magic. Weaving beauty, from the inside out. She beckons me to watch with her, the jubilant sun, waking up from its slumber. Beckoning me, and I watch with her, everyday, a routine. I always find her there, standing, wishing the sun…


I had a dream today. No. Not a dream. I was awake and lying in bed. I was remembering the time dadi died. How the news of her death reached my parents’ ears. It’s strange, I never think about how the news of her death came. I know how she died and when she died….


The red sun is awake. It warms up my heart, and memories rush to my mind. I get up with her, as she shines brightly with the color of dawn. She’s my little memory. My little piece of heart that grows every time I do.