‘Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops at all’ - Emily Dickinson Are you tired? I am. It is tiring living in Kenya. I don’t want to list the ways, because this piece is not about that. This piece is … Continue reading Where does it hurt?
They came for my grandfather one night He didn’t need to open his one milky eye to see them there Five men standing in a row over his bed He heard them call out to him Are you the son of Kassam Bhai Walji Jamani? Yes, he said, I am. I am Rajabali Kassam He … Continue reading They came for my grandfather
I stand at the window. The moon is hidden and my feet are bare. I reach up to my face. At the point where my hairline starts, is a zipper hidden in the coils of my curls. It is made of solid chunky brass, the kind you find on vintage leather jackets. But it’s no … Continue reading in my skin
I lay in bed last night asking you to visit me in my dreams. To sit with me. Stroke my hair. Peel back your eyelid with your finger like you used to and give me that sweet sweet smile that would sweep away any melancholy clinging to my heart. Did you hear me? It’s … Continue reading And full stop.
The Lion I am five years old. My mum has gone mad. Sitting on her heels, fingers splayed out on each knee, her eyes bulge out, pupils rolling back into her head. Her mouth is wide open, so wide I am worried her skin may start to rip at the corners. Her tongue sticks out … Continue reading of downward dogs and life lessons
It was a Thursday when I found out my ex-husband had a child. I never did like Thursdays. At my desk, in between writing radio scripts, with Bob Marley blaring in the background, I did the math. We were still married when he fathered this child. Still sharing a bed, sharing a surname, sharing dreams. … Continue reading Dipping my toes
When you can’t write what you need to write, you write what you can. I want to write about… That new Dove ad is absurdly symbolic. Women in five cities around the world are made to choose one of two doors in order to enter a space. The entries are labelled ‘Beautiful’ or ‘Average’. There … Continue reading F**K BEAUTY
You get married and you think this is the man you will spend the rest of your life with. Then life happens. You separate, and for the next three years you don’t see him. You don’t hear his voice. The soft lilt in his Rs. You don’t see him ruffled up in the morning before … Continue reading Closing the book
My writing process is a bit like being constipated. I feel bloated with unformed ideas and grumpy with blocked up words. I get irritable and it consumes me. I can think of nothing else. Conversations feel like an invasion on my thoughts, and I resent people expecting me to participate in life. All I can … Continue reading One Year On
The first thing you need to know is that an Indian wedding has very little to do with the couple getting married. And it certainly has absolutely nothing to do with love. Please. That's for dizzy white people. The sole purpose of an Indian wedding is one thing and one thing alone. To show off. Why else … Continue reading How to to get married Indian Style Part 1