Did the lack of a shower still go unnoticed? Yes. Are we flexible and adjustable people? Yes but also the landlord said that we could never get a shower while pointing out that there is no geyser also.

In one night we realised that our big gigantic place with its big ginormous rent had big gaping holes that we had been blind to. Blind to the leaky fridge, dry taps and oddly functioning AC.

It is the “living with my bro” goggles that made us blind. We had eyes only for each other.

Now as a person who repeatedly denies being pessimistic, I must point out, our home has many benefits, it is really close to a market that we infrequent, an office that I would like to infrequent and our friends’ home that we frequent a completely acceptable amount. See, we totally bagged the sit-com life.

Our kitchen is in our bedroom and yet the food comes from outside. But don’t worry, WE ARE GOING TO COOK ONE DAY.

Our schedules may not align – she scurries off to work when I am still drooling all over my pillow, probably dreaming about the amazing food we had ordered the night before. I come back when somehow she is still awake but at a time when she should be in some REM state (idk sleep schedules man). Yet she finds time for me. On my off days, even when tiredness rightfully asks her to just stay in, she comes out to entertain this anxious, bored and jittery friend.

Yes, from time to time, she will have brain farts – “today I met a person who was murdered” but when her brain is braining, she is writing – https://indianexpress.com/article/health-wellness/neet-paper-leak-suicide-family-learns-to-heal-10811932/b — and what beautiful brain non-farts they are.

Greta Gerwig said in Frances Ha, “It’s that thing when you’re with someone, and you love them and they know it, and they love you and you know it... but it’s a party... and you’re both talking to other people, and you’re laughing and shining... and you look across the room and catch each other’s eyes... but - but not because you’re possessive, or it’s precisely sexual... but because... that is your person in this life. And it’s funny and sad, but only because this life will end, and it’s this secret world that exists right there in public, unnoticed, that no one else knows about. It’s sort of like how they say that other dimensions exist all around us, but we don’t have the ability to perceive them.”

That’s Reva. But here we might not actually be in two different sides of the room but right next to each other cause our social anxiousness and general state of being overwhelmed keeps us stuck to each other.

She made a documentary on me and all I have for you is her.

What brings me out of my hiatus is an article that I am working on. There is this thing called Reporter’s diary, where essentially the reporter just jots down what they had been upto through the day, what they say, observed, felt, discovered etc etc etc. It is like the news version of the blooper reel or bts logistics.

It is an article that I dreaded when I heard it. I had franctically texted my roommate saying, ‘I can’t do it.’ An article about relationships and politics. The two things that dictate much of people’s decisions— one is fairly obvious on how it governs the world and well the other is born out of human’s being social beings.

We obviously are idiots when it comes to both of them and we are even worse for mixing them with each other— not that we had a choice.

But how do I ask people to tell me how they let the world outside dictate how they feel with themselves. Do they not take a stand with their parents simply because “they are just like that, they wouldn’t hurt anyone” or drift away from their friends because “they don’t really care about what is happening in the world.” ? How do I make someone tell me how they were betrayed when their “evolved” friends suddenly couldn’t act on what they talk about? We all know that people beat drums they never really want to practice, but are we able to really do anything about it? And if we do, would we tell someone else about how it hurt to move away from them?

I know I am just describing what a journalist should be able to do— get people to tell them their story— but I have always found human stories a little invasive. Choosing to highlight some parts of people that make a good story and not really giving their entire world. Picking and choosing them— making them an inspiration, a character study or worse, an example.

I talked to some people who I knew and who changed. Some better, some weird. I talked to some people from the depths of the internet- redditt. They had stories that I wish I could write about but I had to cut because unfortunately that wasn’t “the story.” How could I decide what part is relevant in a theme like relationships and politics?

Even though my main job here is to edit (surprise surprise- i work the late night shifts), for the life of me I can’t imagine how people do it. There are some wizards around me; they cut, mould, bring to life stories brought by the reporters. But I am so far from weilding that magic right now that for the time being I am a spectator whose jaw in always on the floor.

As you can clearly tell, my verbosity is something I really revel in. I don’t think I really told you much about my article or even wrote a reporter’s diary entry here; but you know what, this is Critically Concerned, its one place that whatever I pitch; the editor approves. Its me, I am the editor. So if when my article is published, do read it and then compare it to what I wrote here; you will see how politics guides me too.

On Thursday, the Delhi High Court directed that Wangchuk’s health be clinically monitored every day by government doctors and that “whatever medical intervention is required to check his deteriorating health condition shall also be taken care of”, depending on the opinion of the medical team. Disposing of a Public Interest Litigation filed by advocate Rakesh Kumar Saini, the bench of Chief Justice D K Upadhyaya and Justice Tejas Karia noted the Centre’s assurance that Wangchuk would undergo regular health check-ups and receive appropriate medical care. “The life of any citizen is precious and all efforts ought to be made by the government authorities to save the same,” the court observed.

The order raises a larger legal question. While hunger strikes have long been recognised as a legitimate form of political protest in India, how far can the State go in intervening when a person’s health begins to deteriorate? Can it compel medical treatment or even force-feed someone who voluntarily refuses food?

Does India recognise hunger strikes?

India has a long history of hunger strikes being used as a form of political protest. During the freedom struggle, Mahatma Gandhi undertook multiple fasts, seeking social and political reform, from communal harmony to better wages for workers. Bhagat Singh went on a hunger strike to demand better prison conditions while imprisoned which ended when fellow defendant Jatin Das died on the strike. Post Independence, India has had a number of people go on hunger strikes to demand change. Wangchuk was on a hunger strike in 2025, demanding for Ladakh’s inclusion in the Sixth Schedule which ended due to violence erupting after youth protests followed by authorities detaining him under National Security Act. Anna Hazare’s 2011 fast led to the passing of the Jan Lokpal Bill.

There has been change due to hunger strikes.

Courts have repeatedly recognised hunger strikes as a legitimate form of political protest and observed in matters questioning whether the act falls within “attempt to suicide.”

The Supreme Court in the case, Mohammad Yousuf Rather vs The State Of Jammu & Kashmir And Ors on 10 August, 1979 observed-

“A hunger strike, in our country, is a well known form of peaceful protest but it is difficult to connect it with public disorder. We consider this ground also to be vague and irrelevant.”

Mohammad Yousuf was detained for instigating youth protest against the government but based on this ruling, he was acquitted of the charges as the court stated clearly that hunger strike and gathering without arms were protected under the fundamental rights.

In Ramlila Maidan Incident v. Home Secretary, Union of India case, the Madras High Court said-

“The threat of going on a hunger strike extended by Baba Ramdev to personify his stand on the issues raised, cannot be termed as unconstitutional or barred under any law. It is a form of protest which has been accepted, both historically and legally in our constitutional jurisprudence of India”.

The cases highlight that hunger strikes are a form of political resistance expression and not an act or attempt to commit suicide which was criminal under Section 309 of the IPC.

A senior Resident Fellow at Vidhi Centre for Legal Policy, explains, “the provision criminalising the attempt to commit suicide - Section 309 IPC - has been dropped by the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, 2023, decriminalising attempted suicide generally. The one exception: BNS Section 226 still punishes attempting suicide to “compel or restrain a public servant from discharging his official duty”- a provision which could be misused to target this kind of protest fast. However this provision has not been invoked so far.

In P. Chandrakumar v State, the Madras High Court quashed proceedings under Section 309 IPC arising from a hunger strike, holding that “the mere fact that the petitioner has protested by sitting on hunger strike will not attract the offence”.

The ambiguity is thus whether protesting the acts done by public servant attract the charges mentioned in the Section.

A Supreme Court advocate said, “While Section 226 of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita could, on a literal reading, be construed to extend to such conduct, a hunger strike is unlikely, in light of the judicial pronouncement, to be held to constitute an attempt to commit suicide.

If hunger strikes are legal, can the State intervene?

Recognition of hunger strikes as a legitimate form of protest, however, does not answer another constitutional question: what happens when a protester’s life is at risk?

According to the researcher, the law requires courts to balance competing constitutional rights.

She said, “The State’s Article 21 duty to protect life is important, but that goes against the striker’s own rights to protest and bodily autonomy under Articles 19 and 21. When two fundamental rights clash, they must be interpreted harmoniously.”

This balancing exercise is reflected in the Delhi High Court’s approach in Wangchuk’s case. Rather than directing him to end his fast or authorising any coercive medical treatment, the court required the government to ensure that his health is monitored daily by government doctors and that any medical intervention considered necessary by them is made available.

But the same situation is different if the person on strike is in judicial custody.

One of India’s most prominent examples of force-feeding during a hunger strike is that of activist Irom Sharmila Chanu, whose 16-year fast demanding the repeal of the Armed Forces (Special Powers) Act (AFSPA) drew international attention to alleged human rights violations in Manipur.

Unlike Wangchuk, however, Sharmila spent much of her protest in judicial custody. She was repeatedly arrested under Section 309 of the Indian Penal Code, which at the time criminalised an attempt to commit suicide. Since the offence carried a maximum punishment of one year’s imprisonment, she would be released after completing her sentence only to be arrested again when she continued her fast. During her imprisonment, authorities kept her alive through force-feeding using a nasogastric tube.

Once a hunger striker is in custody, prison rules also come into play. The Model Prison Manual, 2016 states:

“Prisoners who go on hunger strike shall be warned that no redress of any alleged grievances shall be allowed as long as the strike continues and that they shall be liable to any prison punishment or to prosecution under Section 52 of the Prisons Act, 1894.”

While courts have recognised hunger strikes as a legitimate form of political protest, prison authorities have separate obligations to maintain discipline and safeguard the lives of inmates. Sharmila’s force-feeding took place within this custodial framework.

“In today’s India I don’t think the reason why the prisoners are not allowed to go on hunger strike is because anyways the condition of prisoners is horrible and if a person loses his life then it will be a violation of the fundamental right of life. Their well-being is the responsibility of the prison authorities. There are a lot of legislations in force as well about the jail conditions and everything,” said Advocate Rishabh Botadra.

However, she cautions that Sharmila’s case does not necessarily create a precedent for protesters outside judicial custody. “There is no settled precedent for a free, non-custodial adult. The closest example, Irom Sharmila, was force-fed for 16 years, but only because she was in judicial custody under Section 309 at the time. For someone protesting freely, this may not apply,” she said.

An advocate said, “Hunger strikes are penalised in jails so as to maintain discipline. There is often a situation where a hungry strike is undertaken by one inmate and other inmates also sympathise and join in. This might lead to indiscipline on a mass scale and eventually lead to a mutiny, a situation which would be very difficult for the jail authorities to curb.”

While the judiciary have said hunger strikes are not unconstitutional, the prison manual and the Prisons Act lays down that not only would hunger strikes by prisoners be illegal but there would be no form of redressal at all.

Thus, when Irom was arrested and imprisoned the authorities were allowed to force feed her through nasal tubes.

So if the petition by Saini does lead to Wangchuk’s imprisonment again, he might have to face the option presented to Irom of a nasal tube force feeding even though India is a member of a declaration that does not allow force feeding humans who are voluntarily on hunger strike.

Can Courts direct force feeding otherwise?

In 1991, India joined the WMA Declaration of Malta on Hunger Strikers and thus India’s medical association is bound by the declaration and must act accordingly as a member. The declaration lays down the principles relating to treatment of persons on hunger strike and it prohibits force feeding.

Principle 23 states- “All kinds of interventions for enteral or parenteral feeding against the will of the mentally competent hunger striker are “to be considered as “forced feeding”. Forced feeding is never ethically acceptable. Even if intended to benefit, feeding accompanied by threats, coercion, force or use of physical restraints is a form of inhuman and degrading treatment. Equally unacceptable is the forced feeding of some detainees in order to intimidate or coerce other hunger strikers to stop fasting.”

The declaration further says that even if such feeding is intended to benefit the patient, using threats, coercion, force, or physical restraints amounts to inhuman and degrading treatment. This means that doctors cannot ethically force-feed a mentally competent person who has voluntarily chosen to continue a hunger strike.

This creates a difficult dilemma for governments and medical professionals. The State has a constitutional duty to protect life under Article 21, yet forcibly ending a voluntary hunger strike may violate the protester’s bodily autonomy and medical ethics.

Recent hunger strikes have highlighted this tension. Farmer leader Jagjit Singh Dallewal, whose fast lasted more than 120 days, received medical monitoring and supportive treatment such as fluids, but doctors had to avoid force-feeding him against his wishes.

The Supreme Court’s directions in the Jagjit Singh Dallewal case, where it held that it was the “bounden duty” of the State to provide immediate medical aid but that Dallewal should not be forced to break his fast “unless it is imperative to do so to save his life”. “What this means is that authorities may only compel a person to break a fast, which is what force-feeding necessarily does, when it becomes imperative to save life, not merely because the fast is prolonged or the person’s health is deteriorating. Short of that threshold, the direction is monitoring and voluntary medical care, not compulsion,” advocate explained.

In contrast, environmentalist Prof. G.D. Agarwal died in 2018 while on a hunger strike demanding action to protect the Ganga.

As Wangchuk’s hunger strike continues, the legal position remains largely untested. Courts have recognised fasting as a legitimate form of protest and have sought to preserve life through medical supervision, but the question of whether the State can compel treatment or force-feed a mentally competent person outside judicial custody remains unsettled.

Now it goes beyond my comprehension and belief in this world. The comedy of IGL has come under the radar of many institutions, some fairly and other absolutely absurdly. Whenever he punches down on someone, I do believe he should be criticised considering the priviledge, power and influence he now has. Imagine the influence a performer needs to have to be able to release episodes on a personal YouTube account alongside a major streaming platform. He can get any deal now as long as IGL is his.

But how is IGL unique?

IGL has participants perform a unique skill or act in front of a judges panel (which changes every episode), after which the participants have to guess the score they received. If the score they guess matches the score given by the judges, they win the episode regardless of whether they were the highest scorers or not. Its unfiltered, “dark” humour made it viral on Instagram, pulled in a rush of brand deals for comedian Raina and sponsors for his show separately.

IGL isn’t alone. Abhishek Kumar and Nirmal Pillai’s live dating-format show First Move has toured India with sponsors like Flipkart and KitKat, giving its creators a touring brand independent of any single joke or set. Raunaq Rajani’s Relationsh!t Advice has run for five years with Cashify as a standing sponsor. A growing number of comedians are moving past stand-up specials and open mics into formats built to be repeated, branded, and sold.

They will start their own podcasts and have other comedians on it thus making a really weird rotation of comedians giving each other a hand, (idk, I might have intended the pun.)

Why a format, and not just more jokes

A stand-up set monetises mainly through ticket sales. They write a set for tour and after a couple of months, they start the process of writing new jokes, trying it in front of an audience in open mics and building their next hour-long set for their next tour again; giving each of their jokes a shelf life. A joke rarely yields copyright benefits for two reasons: practically, it’s too short and disposable, and difficult to trace back to a single author, especially if it’s a reaction to current news that several comedians land on independently. Legally, a joke is often just too brief and generic to clear copyright’s own threshold — the law protects a worked-out expression, not a one-line idea, and most jokes never leave the idea stage in the eyes of a court.

For a detailed article on this- read my article on DeadAnt

A format show sits on the other side of that threshold. Courts have long held that copyright protects expression, not ideas. An idea by itself is free for anyone to use, but once it’s developed into a concept with enough specific, written-down detail, that detail becomes protectable. That’s the doctrine at the centre of Anil Gupta And Anr. vs Kunal Dasgupta, which let a matchmaking show called Swayamvar stop a rival channel from launching a near-identical format in 2002: the concept had been fleshed out in enough detail that it stopped being “just an idea” and became something the law could recognise as a work.

Relationsh!t Advice has run for five years with a new panel of guests each time — Raunaq talks relationships, the crowd shouts back or writes down their opinions, and the guests react. The show becomes a low-stakes room to try out new bits in front of a live crowd, and its popularity helps him keep his name visible between specials and converts directly into ticket sales when he does tour one. And because the format has a fixed, executed structure and style, another comedian copying it wholesale would, at least in principle, be on shakier legal ground than one borrowing a joke.

That protection sits alongside a separate right: trademark. Samay Raina can register “India’s Got Latent” as a trademark, stopping anyone from using the name commercially, regardless of whether their show’s format is different enough to escape a copyright claim. Copyright protects the structure; trademark protects the brand built on top of it — and a format show, unlike a joke, can accumulate both.

What are the limitations?

The idea of the show has to be unique enough. In Zee Entertainment Enterprises Limited v. Sony Pictures Networks India Private Limited and Ors, the court said the mere execution of a “generic” element would not make the show or the element copyrightable. If India’s Got Latent were merely a talent show where a performer is scored by a panel of judges and the best performer wins, the concept wouldn’t clear that bar. Raina’s spin on the format — inspired by international shows, but not copied from them — arguably pushes it past generic, though this has never actually been tested against a rival in an Indian court.

A format comedy show is not merely a gimmick played by a comedian with varying jokes in each set but something that, through trial and error, gives shape to an idea that can be applied regularly and become literary material in its own right.

Comedians building a separate identity around a show or set from their stand-up specials isn’t new — the former does aid in selling tickets for the latter. However, it is crucial to note that as much as a comedian benefits from the success of their format show and how the latter can become a separate IP of its own, the latter’s success could be tied to the success of the former in a way that without the comedian the format show itself loses all its value.

Samay and IGL are both famous and need each other to gain the traction that it currently gets. As Samay is able to release IGL on both Netflix and Youtube, something that has not happened before, it licensed the show to Netflix for streaming while continuing to hold the rights to also release it on YouTube under his own name. Whether he features in every episode or not, he continues to benefit from the success of this IP.

He continues to be held responsible for what goes on in these shows too thus the Supreme Court case that led to Raina taking down Season 1. (Honestly, after S2’s number, that seems like a PR stunt. If it wasn’t damn, his YouTube tantrum worked.)

Thus while a joke is a literary material and can be copyrighted, comedians increasingly have been starting some or the other form of a show probably for a consistent segment, more social media presence, relevance or simply an IP that they can bank on.

So Rohan Joshi, if you start something like an AIB again and need a bored obsessive film enthusiast who cracks great puns, innuendos and is all updated on news, please contact me. I am always available.

The tourism industry accounts for over 60% of Ladakh’s economy and more than half the population of the territory is directly or indirectly economically dependent on it. It was valued at Rs. 600 crore in 2020 and in 2024, it reported the highest year-on-year growth in regional GST revenue at 30%.

In April 2025, a terrorist attack in Pahalgam in Kashmir shook the region. While Jammu and Kashmir’s tourism was severely affected, Ladakh was hit as well, as visitors feared another attack. Till the beginning of June, the territory faced an armed military mobilisation along the India-Pakistan border, leading to the deployment of CRPF personnel, internet shutdowns and drone sightings across the region.

In August, record-breaking rainfall cut off the territory for several weeks. But what followed in September shut it down completely.

Sonam Wangchuk had been conducting a hunger strike since July, demanding Ladakh be granted full statehood and included in the Sixth Schedule—protections that would give the territory greater administrative autonomy and environmental safeguards. On September 24, the protest escalated. Police opened fire on demonstrators in Leh, killing four people. A curfew was imposed. Over 50 people were detained after clashes saw protesters set fires to the ruling party’s office and the chief executive councillor’s office. Wangchuk was detained on September 26 under the National Security Act.

CRPF personnel were deployed across the territory. Tourism declined swiftly. In 2024, the territory received 153,711 tourists. In 2025, it fell to 75,089—nearly half.

“It affected a lot of hotels and guest houses, which were new and had loans. Financial stability shook them. Mostly the workers in such establishments got affected as many businesses closed,” said Stanzin Dorje, who owns a camp-guesthouse near Shey, Ladakh. “Some owners couldn’t pay their staff. Some staff left to find work elsewhere.”

The dependence on tourism is such that the sector becomes the backup plan for many aspiring youths. Ladakh, a region with a 97% literacy rate, is one of the lowest-ranking territories in terms of employment opportunities. The Periodic Labour Force Survey (PLFS) 2023-24 reported that Ladakh’s overall unemployment rate at 21.9% for individuals aged 15 and above, higher than the national average of 3.17%. The situation is dire among the youth (aged 15-29), with an unemployment rate of 33.6%, and among females, where it soars to 45.2%. Among graduates, 25.6% are unemployed, compared to the national average of 13.4%. Many individuals who have completed their undergraduate education are still struggling to find work and thus end up taking jobs in tourism while waiting for gazetted and non-gazetted positions in the administration to open up.

Dorjay has a B. Pharm degree. He pursued an IGNOU Master’s in it in 2023. However, due to the lack of vacancies in government hospitals and the lack of funds to set up his own clinic, he decided to start a cab service, which was earning him a minimum of 20k after all costs in tourism months, but in 2025, he lived off savings and could not pay interest on his Ertiga. “This year I am trying to pay off last year’s loans,” he said.

Lieutenant Governor V K Saxena said that May 2026 emerged as a landmark month for tourism in UT, registering an unprecedented 121.20 per cent growth in tourist arrivals. In his social media post, he stated, “Ladakh received 72,834 tourists in May 2026 compared to 32,927 tourists during the same month in 2025. The LG further said that between January and May 2026, Ladakh welcomed 1,17,546 tourists as against 81,827 tourists recorded during the corresponding period last year, reflecting a 43.65 per cent year-on-year increase.”

But the recovery masks concentration. Where are these 72,834 tourists going? Are they distributed across the territory or concentrated in Leh and Pangong?

“Last year I had nothing to do and this year I am just going back and forth from Pangong Lake, Hanle and Nubra to Leh.” Dorjay explained. “Very few tourists go anywhere else. That is why even I stay in Leh and not in my hometown, Shey.”

The development across the territory is closely linked to tourism and that is why in 2023, Ladakh’s administration launched a Homestay Policy to “boost tourism in the rural and border areas of Ladakh. It further envisages harnessing the vast untapped rural tourism potential of Ladakh, so that its benefit reaches out directly to the rural communities.” This aims to boost infrastructural development like hospitals, cultural centers and education institutions.

“There are so many unexplored areas in rural Ladakh and we aim to support communities of these regions to show their traditions by helping them build homestays and bring tourists here too. Over the years we have improved connectivity to places like Zanskar, Hanle and Nubra and now many people go there. Similarly, through road development and supporting local homestays, we hope tourists will go to the other rural areas too,” said Tsering Paldan, Director, Tourism & Culture, Ladakh.

The Homestay Policy has a two-step application process, which requires homestay owners to show land proof and identity proof. “Till now we haven’t faced any issues in verifying land ownership as the locals have been staying there for many generations. They have some or the other proof of ownership and nobody contests their land,” he said. The tourism department states that since the launch of the policy, over 900 homestays have benefited but does not have data on the homestays registered under it.

Some villages like Likir have started to build an artisan identity to attract tourists who are craving a slow life. Likir has the only traditional pottery family of Ladakh and for a long while the family survived on pottery and agriculture. In 2021 they converted their pottery household into an experiential homestay due to the lack of demand for traditional handicrafts. They started with welcoming potters and artisans but soon ventured into welcoming any tourist interested in pottery.

“Financially we managed last year by surviving on our own agriculture and savings. This year because of the biennale (sa Ladakh) more artists are coming to Likir to see our craft.” said Rigzen Namgail, who runs the Likir Pottery Homestay. “Tourism will help in developing Likir village but if bad tourists come then Likir won’t be Likir anymore.”

“It is a double edged sword. Tourists are needed to bring development to the rural areas but once they come they don’t understand the rules and culture, compromising the environment there,” said Tundup Namgail, owner of Discovering Incredible Ladakh, a bike renting service. “Some of them bring their personal vehicles and go to remote locations where the roads are difficult. Our environment is fragile so if they take it to the dirt paths and aren’t careful, it can harm the plants. Most of the land is barren but it has its purpose for the locals, they take clay and in some months use it for farming too. We have small waterbodies everywhere too and that is the main source for drinking water for many. The drought across the territory has made water scarce and every year we see the glaciers melting less or the water quality decreasing so their care is important and that is why I always suggest tourists to go with locals and/or travel groups instead of going alone so that proper environment care practices are followed.”

Infrastructural developments to make Ladakh more accessible are already underway. The Zoji-la tunnel provides year round passage and will decrease travel time between Ganderbal (in Jammu and Kashmir) to Kargil from around three hours to slightly upwards of 20 minutes.

“The tourism industry is really fragile. We are working through the year to make the industry sustainable. Over the years we have seen causes like Covid-19, road closures and airfare hikes that have caused tourism to drop here. With these infrastructural developments, we can hope more people come to Ladakh. We have to be mindful about the impact of tourism on our territory but we also need it to keep everyone’s home running,” said Paldan.

The upcoming developments will aid in tourism but it doesn’t stray away from the dependency the region already has to this fragile sector. While Zoji-la tunnel will also aid in bringing year-round amenities needed by locals and keep the territory accessible through the winter years, the economy and development remain bound to outsiders.

While the bios across different accounts might show that more than ever, people like to travel, I think the important question is what makes them travel and what kind of travelers they are. Now, I am not a judgemental person so I don’t want to dive into the second question (for now) but the first answer would most of the time generate the answer: exploring a new place/culture/space and community.

And that is what a lot of tourism dependent economy are banking on.

Artisan tourism is when a place starts promoting their local artists and/or providing experiences based on community culture to attract visitors. One of the biggest examples is Kutch.

The Kutch Rann Utsav festival began in 2004, three years after an earthquake that destroyed the life of its locals. The Utsav was to reinvent Kutch’s reputation as a dry dire desert land and bring some attention to its handicraft and unqiue salt deserts. In the beginning, local artisans were given resources and amenities to sell their craft in the Utsav. Now many artisans aren’t able to afford a spot in the months long festival due to the “prestige” that the Utsav has garnered. Regardless, the tourism reaches its peak around that time. While the Utsav happens from December to February, tourism is at its best from November to March.

In 2011, only 0.62 lakh tourists visited the region, it reached upto 7.42 lakh in 2023-24.

Artisan economy because there is an experential quality to walking on the white sand while being stunned by local handicrafts that Amazon can just not provide. But is it really local handicrafts or just what the admin wants you to experience in the name of it?

The next highly art driven experience promoted everywhere is the Kochi–Muziris Biennale. In the months of the biennale, homestays around the attractions had a 100% occupancy while higher end guesthouses had over 85% occupancy. While Kerala throughout the year shows active tourist footfall, there is an apparent increase in the months of the biennale specifically in Kochi which is usually placed second to Munnar in the other months according to the stats published by State tourism department.

The biennale is a lot different from the Utsav considering that it has never just been about local artisans even though they do have their spots there. They also aren’t as big an economic contribution for the state as the Utsav is for Kutch.

Which brings me to an extremely tourism dependent state: Ladakh.

Ladakh has been economically dependent on tourism for a while and thus its “bike tracks” have been cashed in on for nearly as long. 3-idiots brought almost the entire country to the territory’s door. Other countries are already at its door. Thus to support the industry that a significant number of its locals are dependent on, Ladakh tourism department has been trying to expand its image more than that of being an adernaline haven.

Slowly but certainly it has been pushing forward local culture and art. This year there is a biennale. Some rural villages have been advertising slower lifestyles, pottery, age old murals within beautiful gompas and many of their cultural practices so that tourists go beyond Leh. And for a really good reason.

Development in Kutch, Leh, areas in and around Himachal and any other territory is closely dependent on outside spending then for rural areas, footfall is key. Some of the local craftsman spoken to in Kutch and rural Ladakh talked about how when they converted their workspace to an “artist retreat” they started earning at least 50% more than their art. People don’t really want local pottery as much as they want to make it.

Reels about “here is what I did when I unplugged” really wish you were shooting your unplugged activities which is another reason why so many tourist departments in India are running helter sketler trying to find non-Instagrammable but Instagrammable hidden artistic gems.

People also don’t want to witness creativity just through their screens. We are consuming a lot more of “art” than creating it. And for most of us that is exactly how it will be. We might not get the time to pick up a pen and paper; paintbrush, woodwork or anything else that artist communities can give us a brief experience of for exobhirant amount of money.

And to be fair, artisan economy does help revive age old traditions and also diverts people from making a mess out of their tourist activities. For example, Goa which has been the example for a drunk vacation has slowly started becoing about surfing and yes, pottery.

(Next article will be about why is everyone doing pottery and how my school made us do it before it was cool.)

If Goa can become the place people go to detox through retreats and early morning surfing, then why can’t artists make bank by making other people make art? I would 100% stay in a artisan homestay over a hotel room on top of a bar where the bass is too loud. Also, it would mean getting food that I didn’t know existed for example: Chaang.

Now if I say this is a preclude to two really ambitious projects of mine then can you all please promise me that you will pray for the success of those projects? Thank you!

But anyway, I am sitting at work with about an hour left before I can punch out. And as one does, I wonder why I am at work. And why do I have to do this particular work (which also I do not really get; here the hazing method is to make people sit idle). In an employment crisis, I sit wondering why I took this job; the burden of being a disgruntled hater lies on my shoulders and it seems to be the only task that I am proficient at. And catastrophising. Much to my sadness, I haven’t been able to list any of them in my CV.

Naturally, I finished the last episode of one of my many ongoing shows. Not Suitable for Work is the latest addition to the Mindy Kaling Universe. Like her other shows, this one is also forgettable, glitzy rather than substantial. I wonder if I could sit in on her writers’ room.

The problem is characterization. Every character slowly starts overlapping with the others, especially in a work place where it is so easy to disappear. They all start morphing into each other; talking and behaving the same. The peg for all the shows has been “unique bunch of people whose lives get intermingled,” but by the third episode all of the characters seem to speak the same. Every person has to have their own set of quirks and humour. If they all crack the same kind of jokes or complain about things the same, then their world will be the same regardless of whether they work in different places or not.

What makes third places vital is that these spaces help establish how characters react with surroundings differently and thus show unique character traits. Best example: How I Met Your Mother. Barney is distinctly different. Ted occasionally speaks brazenly, but if Ted limits his crassness to his friends, Barney would be the same loudly in McLaren’s too. Here the argument of friends picking up each other’s habits also makes sense—Ted is picking up Barney’s humour without necessarily morphing into him.

And that is why unlike her other shows, Never Have I Ever stuck to its characters. Each of them was distinct. Sex Lives of College Girls, The Mindy Project and NSFW however weren’t able to establish their characters as prominently.

But here’s the real issue- Mindy’s shows reflect the changing times of society. Almost all her shows lack third spaces. The Office is set completely in the office and so is NSFW. Never Have I Ever is in a school and Sex Lives of College Girls is in college. None of her characters even try to venture out of these spaces. Friends meet and hang out only in these spaces and/or max at each other’s house.

Take any other latest hyped comedy/dramedy/sitcom show—Bear, St. Denis Medical, Abbott Elementary and Hacks. All center around work because for a lot of people that is where most of the time and energy goes. Even if third spaces existed, do people have time? Do they have access?

And here’s the catch: the shows that do show third spaces also make them places that have a certain exclusivity in who can access them. We crave exclusivity in our places and a level of comfort that always comes with a price. A major reason for the apparent loss of third spaces are the finances to sustain one. To chill in a bar or cafe regularly requires a certain level of disposable income that makes it an exclusive third space. At the same time, funding for free public places is minimal and thus they are sparse, but even if they weren’t, due to the lack of “exclusive value” I do think their appeal as a third space would be diminished too.

My current living situation is rather ideal considering I live with my best friend and have others within walking distance from my house. Due to our crazy work schedules and even wackier pay, our outings usually involve chilling at a home. Now I do get why Mindy and many other writers are trying not to envision a story being carried out in a place that is not home or work. Because if I did write about the past few weeks of living near my friends while adulting in a grown up job, my set locations would also be limited. Where is the frolicking? Where is the space for more? If there were more, what would it look like? Please don’t say it’s like any of the ongoing sitcoms.

This particular book, though, came at a supremely inauspicious time and, worst of all, when I most needed it. Heart the Lover by Lily King is a painfully relieving book. I have had an unnameable lump in my throat for a while, the kind that you want to scream out of your system but it feels too heavy to process. I read that book and boom, suddenly I had a voice. Suddenly, I had all the mechanisms to let it out. It was the messiest reading I have done in my life.

I think King knew how her book finds people-

“A great novel, a truly great one, not only captures a particular fictional experience, it alters and intensifies the way you experience your own life while you’re reading it. And it preserves it, like a time capsule.”

Jordan knows she has to wait. She doesn’t know what to wait for. The opportunity, the world, herself, her partner, the right story or just a break? She is waiting to leave, and then she is waiting for her thesis and then just for a letter. She keeps waiting and the waiting is dull. But as torturous as the waiting is, it just makes sense. Because it wasn’t a conscious thought. She just naturally seemed to do it, something that just sneaked up on her.

“It is hard to take a full breath.” The lump in the throat has words now.

Her waiting often leads to a loss of words and she is a writer. Her need to accomplish something that she cant name often led to not experiencing things otherwise. The plain and mundane consequence of waiting.

King’s beauty comes in the way she makes the angst and frustration and pain of the story so real to the reader.

“I’m aware that I had ideas about the future that I hadn’t discussed with myself.”

As a person who plans conversations and has probably lived six lives in her head (obviously based on the timelines created by the roll of the dice), there is this annoying result of catastrophising which is to create a reality that you didn’t intentionally think of and then wondering whether that is the future or not. Worse is when it wasn’t a catastrophe that was envisioned. King gets it.

For sometime now, contemporary lit has become a lot about miscommunication or pain romanticisation (A little life, no matter how painfully written had started becoming too indulgent in making his pain beautiful) or a lot of telling than showing. I think King doesn’t care if her words evoke anything more than necessary because the absolute simplicity of the issue and even then failing and disappointing the world by making everything harder for no other reason than believing to be undeserving is already wrenching.

I found this book when I was at work wondering for how long does the future look like this? For how long in the future will I be small enough here to be able to read an entire book? For how long in the future will I be waiting and not because I have something to wait for but only because I seem to always know that there is too much time left? In how many futures am I not there like this?

“As long as you are alive, it is never too late to be found.”

A London cab driver had left London stumped.

Public transportation has the ability to make people faceless. Whether it is a crowded metro or train, or hailing a cab, where the passenger and driver are just some people who are caught up in the rush of life and survival. For Kareem Rahma, it was the perfect system to meet people.

Kareem’s rise to fame has been deeply connected to New York’s public transportation; Subway Takes an interview series has 2 million followers on Instagram and 987 thousand followers on YouTube.

It started with interviewing random people about their “unpopular opinions” ranging from politics, relationships and social mannerisms. After about 100 episodes, Rahma let a celebrity to give their opinion because they barely ever use the public system.

Rahma has always voiced how New York’s diversity is at its most visible in public transportation, as it is the lifeline of the city. None of them are limited to sharing something of their field, job, community, or any other specific thing; he just wants to hear their opinion. And that gave us Julian Casablancas opinion, “American Zionists get the benefits of white privilege but talk like they’re Black people during slavery.”

Rahma worries the least about whether his interviews will be shadowbanned or get him in trouble, the series started for fun and remains to be that.

Now that Subway Takes has become primarily celebrities sharing their opinions (not really about any project they are promoting), Rahma aimed to go back to what he really started his interview series for.

Long before his social media became so wildly popular, Rahma had started Keep the meter running, albeit he was not regular, but he was persistent. He got Zohran Mamdani to ride around with him and cab driver Mouhamadou and join them for a local iftar. A month or so later, he made it a series.

KTMR keeps him on his toes with New York’s cab drivers.

It is a YouTube show by Kareem Rahma that is about the stories of different New York cab drivers. He gets in a cab and asks the driver to show them what they do when they are not in the cab, thus leading him to a russian bath house, a secret taxi clubhouse and a local bowling alley where one of his interviewees had met their wife.

In the Russian bath house episode, Kareem talks to Eugene, a driver who came from Moscow to New York on political asylum. Rahma, who has very avidly supported Zohran, heard a group of Russian men discussing how they hate socialism and believe truly that Trump can save America. After that they head for a sauna.

Another driver, Hanny, lectures Rahma on his lack of fitness. He makes him play football only to laugh at Rahma’s dwindling stamina. Hanny and Rahma talk about how different their lives have been since leaving Egypt. Hanny has kept a tight hold of his roots and never let his tongue forget the language, while Rahma shares his regrets of unlearning the language to fit into New York better.

Rahma wants the drivers to be more than faces or immigrant case studies and in the four episodes released, he achieves that seamlessly. They aren’t stories of plight or distance but of just a life lived. There is so much a person can hear from people who have traversed one of the biggest metropolises. There is no better way to know how policies, social outlooks and the state of the country can affect citizens than just letting them speak about whatever they want. Hanny can go to a taxi club to pray, watch football and stretch out his legs after hours of driving.

Which is what makes its absence so stark.

It is such a contrast to the gig economy we have in India. The standard quality of life difference has always been apparent and undisputed. The average coverage of such topics is case studies or statistics and in a time when everyone becomes faceless and just comparison points, a show free of these compartmentalisation actually ends up shining a light on an issue that otherwise gets lost in commotion. India’s gig economy is infamous for exploitation. A show like KTMR might do far better in understanding how the exploitation works. India has enough metropolises that would love to compare itself to New York and in certain areas say that they compete with it to be superior but would the cab drivers of the city have the same standard quality of life? Would saying, “keep the meter running” and then exploring the city with them even result in enough money to give them an option to stretch their legs or have arguments at a sauna?

To have stories to faces is an avenue that must be explored because clearly having faces as numbers has achieved barely anything.

If I sound biased towards Rahma or his shows, I do urge you to watch his interviews and see the style and freedom he has in each interaction. As a journalist, he is absolutely a person I would look up to.

All publicity ain’t bad publicity for other parties.
The last time I remember seeing a wave of Indian youth suddenly talking about politics on Instagram or Twitter was when Mamdani started talking over the socials. Again, these are people who can’t vote in New York, and unlike everything else that America has contributed (or restricted and hindered), Mamdani’s work in New York will never impact his fans in India—unless, of course, they move there, which some of these suddenly active ones can. And even the creator of CJP, Abhijeet Dipke, isn’t in India. He didn’t think the parody would blow up, and fairly so, as the initial idea itself was:
“Eligibility criteria – unemployed, lazy, chronically online and ability to rant professionally.”

Clearly, it was never supposed to be an actual political party. As he has stated multiple times, it is satire. The intention was to make the youth more politically aware and to voice out their frustration. But now the traction it gets and the promises it makes will circle back to the core issues of India: the lack of action.
After this, CJP did go on to make an AI‑generated manifesto, a party anthem, a website, etc. While many push for it to be a party, some have forgotten that the problems in this country faced by all are far greater than being called a cockroach.

For many of the recently “awakened,” CJP is less a political project than a form of performative activism—a way to signal outrage without materially altering their own position in the system. It is a kind of slacktivism: low‑risk, high‑visibility affiliation that feels like participation but does not necessarily translate into offline organising or policy pressure. I am not even going into the theories of it being related to AAP.

At the same time, when news about protests in Ladakh for job opportunities and for increasing employment and administrative independence was released, half of the now clanking people were silent. This was a protest that actually made it to the ground and went beyond AI‑generated tweets and captions. Did it have less potential to be viral? What about the NEET paper leak scandal? The cockroach bit lets youth laugh at systemic disdain for unemployment, but the meme format can stop inquiry at catharsis instead of policy or structural critique, because now it makes people feel that they have participated without really having to do anything about it.

Dipke rightly said that CJP is nothing like the revolutions that were seen in India’s neighbouring countries, and that is because the sect of people that the party has awakened are those who can continue living in a bubble without changing anything, but at least acknowledging that a change would not hurt. Satire can expose power, but it can also become a comfort zone for the privileged: a way to feel rebellious while staying safely within the bounds of the status quo.

The 2012 Delhi rape case shook the country’s foundation. People protested across the nation. It led to a systematic change. Unfortunately, it is not an isolated case; rape numbers have continued to rise in India, and recently, a similar crime was committed, and this time it barely stayed in the news cycle for half a day, and perhaps even less on social media. People surely felt deeply saddened and infuriated by it, but the kind of curbs and hindrances that are now presented to us have stopped revolutions from even starting.

Thoughts and ideas are limited to our screens. They are accounts and the government can’t even stand those and thus get blocked; the CJP Twitter account is unavailable in India due to “legal demands”. Even if CJP were to actually do something and mobilise the mass, can it? Does it have the space to?

It is noteworthy that it is possible to make such a loud impression on social media that over 20.4 million people are following it on Instagram. So in no way am I saying that this isn’t remarkable but if all it remains is a retweet or repost, then it is worth considering why it is so difficult to have a change in India.

Being taskless was an irregular occurrence, usually reserved for when there was a cause of preparation for a celebration. Today, they were preparing for a housewarming by putting henna and two of the women were those that had artistically reddened their hands for many years in many celebrations.

For the next couple of hours, “the others” of the family could not ask them to fetch water because if the henna did not set vibrantly on their hands, it would signal a bad omen.

In these three hours, they had everything to catch up on. The ones who married into the family got to ask the ones of the family why. The ones who married elsewhere got to say that they had it worse. At the end, both decided that for better or for worse, they all should be grateful that their kids would not be like this. Everything boils down to hope and a better future.

No one was speaking to any one person in particular. They didn’t sit in a circle; that would be too restrictive as most of the time someone or the other had out of habit left their seat to see if there was any work that needed to be done. Maybe some clothes folded, some food to be checked on or just ensuring that everyone was hydrated.

Everyone else would then say, “just sit, let the girl there handle it.” That was me and well, I am clearly preoccupied but don’t worry, everyone will get a glass of water eventually.

The two artists were part of every discussion, giving the ‘outside-family’ perspective. Their words were calmer, more relatable, and more directive. Between “this market only increases prices for women’s hair dyes because we colour our hair more than men do,” and “please keep your hand straight,” the power to direct this session as they pleased was in their hands.

The aunts and grandmothers were more than pleased to talk about market prices. They needed alternatives to decrease the use of cooking oil, “ghee is too expensive.”

Some would occasionally drift into topics like how healthy someone is, or how someone is old enough to be shipped to another family. But as soon as it was mentioned that someone was a lawyer (hhehe me), the conversation became more about how they too wanted to get out.

Not from anything in particular but from the perseverance and monotony that had come to be expected. I heard those closer to me talk about the many lives I had gone out and lived and the entire time, I wondered if all that differentiated me here in this circle was the lucky cards I got dealt with when it came to my parents.

And yet, hearing them ask what I was going to do or what I have done, I thought, “Did I play these cards right?”

Thankfully, all answers lead back to politics, and in our rather singularly coloured world, my impassioned rant about not wanting to persevere through things that weren’t even created for the benefit of those who carry the load of it soon circled back to whether Mamata Banerjee’s policies did any women any favours in West Bengal.

The mehendi artists continued reddening the hands, and the walking stick remained untouched for six hours. Four generations of women had a lot to discuss as they had to wait for something to celebrate to talk about what they had been observing all this time.

To say I was just being a fly on the wall in this function would be an exaggeration. I was a fly on the wall of two rooms away. Sitting in the living room and watching about 17 people sway to the sounds of loud clanking manjiras and five men sing words out of tune became rather monotonous after the first 10 minutes.

The amount of preparation that had gone into finally having a house seemed to take a back seat compared to the gratitude being showered on these scantily clad men.

I don’t really have a bone to pick with my family about this function. My issue is simply the entire ordeal of it and the suffocating smoke and the number of people eyeing everything up and down and trying to decide if the house is even good enough to be warmed and the costumes required to appease all and just how slow time seems to go when all your senses go into an overdrive.

Sitting two rooms away, I realise my own boredom further distances me from the things I say I am curious about but can never actually bring myself to observe for long enough. Yes, the smoke is truly suffocating but I am lying when I say that is the only reason.

In these four days (who knew it could take that long to warm a house up), the only thing that has stood out for me is how I find every way possible to stand far from the crowd. I have many great, justifiable reasons for it. Unfamiliar faces, clanking manjiras, loud rituals and the overstimulating nature of families. But even to see myself be proven right, I would have to understand where the patience and need to do such functions arise.

Progress was there. I did step into the function when those with the manjiras went for a break.

I controlled my tongue about the oddity of rituals that feel stuck in time, and then accidentally let my disapproval be known a few minutes later but hey, it’s for the plot and maybe then I will live up to my introduction of being a lawyer. and since two weeks ago, a journalist.

Most of the family was huddled in the middle of the living room, clapping and singing along. The songs had become similar to some Bollywood songs I knew. The cluster of green, red, and yellow outfits was swaying with kids sprinkled in the middle who remained surprisingly still, hunched over and elbowing each other whenever someone made a goal in their mobile football thing. There is a sizeable basement downstairs. There is also a ball rolling around in the balcony.

I, too, am sitting with a laptop perched on my lap and creasing the dress that was chosen to make me a little more presentable. The worry that I would call out the scantily clad men for using their phones for chanting kept most of the adults at bay.

Time and again, I would ask my grandmom, what is going to happen next. It was my way of showing that I was still very much in the house and also figuring out how much time was left.

How does one go about being curious when the effects of things always toy with the line of being neutral and concerning?

I have become a fly on the wall of the adjacent room now. Some relatives have persuaded me that things do get better. For example, one reminded me that in this economy, this might be the last such function. The other has a library in their house; people don’t talk about her much. Apparently, she rebelled in a manner that I briefly thought about.

I don’t know what specifically they are hoping gets better, but they do read the same books and watch the same movies as me, so maybe there is something we can all agree on.

After a total of 2.5 days of warming the house and being the first of three people to actually spend the night in it, I can confidently tell you, that the house has been warmed.

Oh and my grandparents celebrated an almost-50th anniversary!

There are three suitcases lined up in front of me and a bag headed to a donation centre with everything that I believed were prized mementoes but were now too difficult to justify as keepsakes. It was really difficult to pack everything and haul it back home.

Every time I promise myself, this time I am going to be mindful, composed and not hold on to every trinket that comes my way. Six moves, six lives, six times I’ve told myself: just one suitcase; maximum two. And every time this advice gets thrown into the trash.

I end up still taking in everything from all these lives.

It is great. There is always so much to see and collect and live so while I still call it home, there will always be room for everything. But then, suddenly, I am not really home there. And there is stuff just lying around.

A big steady woven basket that had helped make my cluttered table look a little organised (I just hid all the rough papers, medicines, half-empty pens and other tiny things inside.) But do I really need it now?

My coffee glass that had seen my crankiest of moods shift to a more hopeful one every morning. I am sure there will be other glasses in the next home. Maybe not this one but I am sure they will have their own style.

Some clothes had seen my best days but were probably tired from being repeatedly worn thin. I had to believe that my stories weren’t written based on the memories that my outfits held.

After all this time of living in and out of my suitcase, I should know the capacity these bags have, right?

Like, it is about time that I know how much I can hold on to? How much can I realistically take with me? Or if nothing else, then stick by the advice I give myself? But ugh, when the probabilities of what life and new homes can give me are endless, then does it really matter if I can stick by what I had planned?

I wish I could. It would make it easier to divide things based on “keep” and “discard.” Especially if they are all still in a perfect and beautiful condition.

As the time in Chennai comes to an end, I continue to be surprised by how difficult it is to pack my entire hostel life into 3 suitcases. Everyone say all the best.

Then how am I, standing here, wondering if I exist?

Half an hour ago, I was asked to wait in a room that looked stale. Musty odour and grim walls. They mostly covered the damp spots with more white chalk. The chairs of the room were made to quickly get up from.

The chairs of these waiting rooms will always be slightly uncomfortable because eventually everyone has somewhere to be; yet sometimes one must sit a little while longer, fidgeting and adjusting till those chairs are a little less uncomfortable and just a little more familiar. Sometimes, the bleakness of the waiting room will start mirroring some of the colours that shine from passing by moments and sitting on that chair, one will still find something to wait for.

I had slouched down on the chair and my head rested on the white chalked walls. I had all the documents and some more (just in case) that would be necessary to prove my existence. A clerk passed by in an equally pasty white shirt and I hastily screamed, “excuse me, sir, excuse me, hello!” Nothing.

Maybe he was in a hurry to get somewhere.

I didn’t really have anywhere to be but even if I did I was wondering if I had anything to contribute at all because if I didn’t even have a say here then who else will listen? What else am I good for? Is anyone there?

Maybe if I sit really still then I could convince myself that I was part of the walls behind me and then none of this would matter.

Or

What if I scream into the waiting room void and then all the ricocheting thoughts could become audible and finally I am heard. Finally I don’t exist only in my head but somewhere in the long list of people who exist?

Because this is the one thing that is guaranteed, right? Something that is almost promised. Something that people say is a fundamental duty that should be practiced by all.

Across the country right now there are so many people whose existence is questioned. No matter what proof they have, it does nothing. They can sit, wait, scream, and show their entire life as proof and yet they would be pushed to a sideline. Pushed to silence. Reduced to a discrepency and justified as a human error.

To be in a community, to feel human, to feel like your voice matters is so crucial to feeling like this existence is worth it, yet in a process of choosing a representative who will voice the voices, many have been silenced.

Everyone wants to be heard. Everyone wants to feel seen. Everyone wants someone who cares to represent them. But in a world when it is easier to be careless then giving effort to facilitate a change, people are choosing the former without batting an eye to the consequences.

Because the consequences are none when there are no more voices that need to be heard. If I don’t really exist then do I need to be represented?

That is from Sentimental Value. Despair, loneliness and bleakness are at the centre of this film. And most of the time, these kinds of films love to gut-punch you with hope.

Hope is a dangerous thing.

Another line that I am sure wiggles its way into many stories even though it is best said in the classic, c’mon you don’t need me to name it. Because it really is, isn’t it?

What I find more dangerous, though, is the hope that can’t ever be made into an action. Hope that stems from despair. When all your despair can do is hope that there is someone listening.

Maybe that is why I have always found myself a little distant from religion, because I have always considered it to be something that people turn to when they need someone to turn to without actually doing something. But that’s probably just my need for control; when I have hope, I almost desperately want to do something about it.

I hope for an interview with my celebrity crush, then I just spam their DMs, or keep having chance encounters with them across a metropolitan city.

And also because I can’t have more things to be disappointed about.

If my hope were tied to a religion, then I would know another entity that doesn’t really listen. Another reminder that all the joys and sorrows are mine to handle and that nothing really means anything. Then I would have to trust someone else’s plan, and it wouldn’t be my actions that determined the consequence, but someone else’s. I need to know that it was because of something that I am experiencing this. There has to be a reason.

If I had just done this one thing differently, then maybe the timelines that we live in would give me the reality that was the most peaceful of them all. (Best way to understand timelines: Community S3 Ep4).

But when my hope is something also as intangible as god then what do my actions translate to? What could I have done differently if it had never been in my hand at all?

When I feel everything is going wrong, then I want someone to tell me what would be right. Which brings me to-

“I want someone to tell me what to wear in the morning. No, I want someone to tell me what to wear every morning. I want someone to tell me what to eat. What to like. What to hate. What to rage about. What to listen to. What band to like. What to buy tickets for. What to joke about. What not to joke about. I want someone to tell me what to believe in. Who to vote for and who to love and how to…tell them. I just think I want someone to tell me how to live my life, Father, because so far, I think I’ve been getting it wrong. And I know that’s why people want someone like you in their lives, because you just tell them how to do it. You just tell them what to do and what they’ll get out of the end of it, even though I don’t believe your bullshit and I know that scientifically nothing that I do makes any difference in the end, anyway, I’m still scared. Why am I still scared? So just tell me what to do. Just fucking tell me what to do, Father.”

Like every other basic-ass agnostic, I connect to Fleabag almost as if I am scared to have a personality of my own because if Fleabag can have a small rendezvous with Hot Priest and have a soul-altering connection, then she must be doing something right, right?

And as her therapist said, “Do you want to fuck God?”

Maybe then I can have a greater being in my hand. (just laugh, you know you want to.)

I am an agnostic who is so jealous of those who are able to believe without a need to know if there is even something justifying their belief. Unconditionality, the ability to let go, the consistent hope that doesn’t seem to turn to despair. Religion needs people to let go. Religion becomes a reason when there is nothing reasonable about something.

Everything is beautiful and then suddenly it is not. There is no explanation for the sudden and yet for those who have hope and faith, there will always be a reason, a path they are meant to follow. I’ll cradle my hope and then see myself let it go because there was never any reason to have it in the first place.

After doing everything that could be done, the only realisation is that there is no control. My agnostic brain has to let it go and fall on the floor with loss and then wonder, if there was someone listening, then at least the control could have just gone to them? They could carry this burden.

How can I not be jealous when Hope itself feels like something that I am not privileged to have? I don’t have the mechanism to see that in the path lying ahead, there is something that will make all this heaviness have a purpose.

I also can't stop wondering if that's exactly what faith requires—the ability to let go of what's in front of you for the promise of something you can't see. Hope that the burden of carrying loss is shared by the one looking from above and determining if this is right or wrong.

Liz Bucar wrote about Trevor Noah and Zohran Mamdani’s discussion in Noah’s podcast, where he said-

“One of the things that faith requires of you is the ability to believe that this current state that you are in is not the end. There is a possibility that something can be greater. And even though you cannot see it, you believe that it can happen. It requires literally everything that you just said.”

Liz writes-

“Faith gives you the capacity to believe that this current state isn’t the end” without needing a peer-reviewed study proving the future will be better. It’s not irrationality. It’s a different kind of rationality altogether, one that can juggle complexity and ambiguity and hope all at once without dropping any of them.

Think about that for a second. We’re not talking about blind optimism or toxic positivity here. We’re talking about a cognitive and emotional framework that lets you stare directly at how bad things are while still organising toward how things could be.”

The framework of faith makes the bad things have a future to evolve into something better. It becomes greater than time.

Another film example. The Look of Silence by Joshua Oppenheimer is a documentary about the genocide in Indonesia.

A brutal massacre where the perpetrators continue to rule the land. There are so many families who continue to exist living under the rule of those who mercilessly tortured and killed their loved ones. Sometimes, they know members who were part of these deaths. But they can’t do anything. They are forced to be helpless. They are forced to sit with this pain. They are forced to continue living on. Even if they act on their anger and pain, this turmoil will exist and so they sit with the hope and strongly believe that when those with innocent blood in their hands will face the god then all this pain and suffering will not be in vain.

But for that, they need to believe there is a God. Only then can they let it go and accept that the change and justice they want will happen.

When I first watched this film, I wondered how the mother of the martyred son had so calmly yet emotively explained that she had to believe that God would rectify it. How, after seeing all this destruction, did the people have the strength to believe and look forward?

How did they have the faith to believe that this current state is not the end? Hope is such a dangerous thing.

For them, I want to believe. Because if there is nothing, then that hope was cruel.

She had to give up control and to just give it up was so unbearable that she hoped, believed and screamed it forward to something, although intangible, that was still a reason convincing enough to let it go. She believed it was not in her hands and had to accept what the reality was.

Marx said-

“Religious suffering is, at one and the same time, the expression of real suffering and a protest against real suffering. Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions. It is the opium of the people.”

For very understandable reasons, this is a much debated sentence. What does this man mean?

The opium was not something simply handed out to the masses, as de Sade had maintained, but something which was self-generated in order to deal with the pain of existing conditions.

The other side speaks of how it is the only way to feel virtuous when there is nothing but desolation.

If there is some life order that can be maintained which is not made by known evil incarnates (like law, capitalism, societal norms etc), then following the rules made by an unknown entity is far more compelling to follow because it can be presumed it comes from better and purer intentions.

When the world is literally on fire and it is well known who all flicked the last matchstick to blow up the world and yet there is a helplessness that is not born out of inaction but just by the design of the world, then how can I not be jealous of people who still hold the belief that there is something better than this?

My hope has a finish line in its despair where it convinces itself that this bleakness is just in my cards and this is how it will be. Religion, however nefarious, made by extremists, continues to shine some light for those who find individual solace there.

Their pain has the hope that this world and this “current state” is not the finish line.

Now, I must state that nothing about any of these paths is easy. I really enjoy the dohas of Kabir and thus-

चिंता ऐसी डाकिनी, काट कलेजा खाए |

वैद बेचारा क्या करे, कहा तक दवा लगाए ||

Which means, “Worry is such a thief that it eats one’s heart. What can a doctor do? How far will his medicine reach?”

None of these paths, ideologies, and beliefs is easy because, at the end of it all, we made these thoughts just to use as a crutch when shit goes downhill. My need for control stems from the believing that all my actions will have consequences so maybe if i do things right then I will finally get it right. Religion makes one believe that if even in the hardest of times, one listens to the word of their God then all the sacrifices will soon be worth it. None of that makes sense to me, my absolute desperation for things to work out or the belief that in sometime god will handle it.

But I can say one thing after researching, reading, talking and writing about this topic for so long that I do think being an agnostic and arguing that just because something can’t be proven, it can’t exist is rather a surface-level argument for something that is so important and necessary for so many.

The Unknown God: Agnostic Essays-

“When is “uncertainty of argument and evidence” about a given matter a decisive reason to be agnostic on that matter? I do not think this is always obvious. In some cases, I suggest that some ethical and prudential principles can guide us in questions of uncertainty. For example, in the case of witnessing what appears to be cruelty to animals, if one does have philosophical uncertainty about the apparent cruelty (perhaps under the influence of Descartes or Wittgenstein) I suggest that one should nonetheless act on the supposition that what appears to be the case, is truly what is occurring.”

Regardless of whether my brain can determine it, my mind has started to hope that, in the burning world, there is someone out there listening. We all want a home. Please.

And as my basic-bitch agnoticism continues to persevere, here is another fabulous quote from Fleabag but from the other side of the argument-

“Love is awful. It’s awful. It’s painful. It’s frightening. It makes you doubt yourself, judge yourself, distance yourself from the other people in your life. It makes you selfish. It makes you creepy, makes you obsessed with your hair, makes you cruel, makes you say and do things you never thought you would do. It’s all any of us want, and it’s hell when we get there. So no wonder it’s something we don’t want to do on our own. I was taught if we’re born with love then life is about choosing the right place to put it. People talk about that a lot, feeling right, when it feels right it’s easy. But I’m not sure that’s true. It takes strength to know what’s right. And love isn’t something that weak people do. Being a romantic takes a hell of a lot of hope. I think what they mean is, when you find somebody that you love, it feels like hope.”

He was talking about God.

In a floral printed peach nightdress, eyes lined with dark kajal, Charulata held up her thread necklace; a turmeric tied at its centre. “My guru came to visit me yesterday, so I wore this when I went to see her,” she said. A resident of the Greater Chennai Corporation’s (GCC) THOZHI Trust (Transgender) home, Charulata received the necklace from her Jammat naik, the Tamil Nadu adoptive mother she found safety with after fleeing Kerala.

The Jammat family system has provided safety and security to transgender women in Tamil Nadu for decades. “When I first came here, I didn’t have any family so they (police) could do anything with me. They can charge any sort of fine against me. I was all alone. But then my mother here adopted me,” Charulata explained.

Adoption into a Jammat family comes with shelter, food, clothes and basic necessities, but also strict terms: each Jammat family controls a designated area, sending its members out for begging and sex work, with earnings pooled and distributed among elders. Monthly targets are set for each Transgender woman; failing to meet them, or defying the hierarchy, results in heavy fines. “There is good and bad in everything, but for newcomers this is the only option, they instantly have a community. And once they are ready for surgery, the Jammat pays for it too,” she said.

Charulata had fled Kerala because of her brother’s abuse, and found that Tamil Nadu offered something her home state didn’t. “In Kerala, there isn’t even a proper name for the transgender community. In Tamil Nadu, they are recognised and have a certain space in society — the socio-geographical and cultural context plays a huge part in how people are treated,” she noted.

According to a 2018 study by the National Human Rights Commission (NHRC), 96% of transgender persons are forced into low-paid or undignified work, resorting to begging and sex work. The same study finds that 99% face social rejection on multiple fronts—by their families, and by the state, which denies shelter to those engaged in sex work or beggary.

At the Thozhi Trust home, GCC rules prohibit shelter to Transgender women engaged in begging or sex work, so Charulata left her Jammat family, which too requires paying a fine. The home offers free shelter, but little else; work remains scarce. Despite being educated and holding a stake in family property, she has no income, and occasionally finds herself reconsidering the Jammat family as her only viable safety net.

Shelters are located in closed off places. “They have given us a house with free cost, but the location is such that there is nothing there and it is a rowdy area which is unsafe. Who will want to live like that?” said Sabita, an activist working at Sahodaran, an NGO for transgender welfare.

Oviya, 29, a resident at THOZI home, worked 11 years as a sex worker with the Jammat family in India’s oldest red-light district, Kamathipura, in Maharashtra. Sex workers who voluntarily get clients without a third party involved are considered to be working legally in Kamathipura. Oviya believed her work was legally authorized due to regular checks from police and medical authorities. However, considering she was 16 at the time, and her income was going to the Jammat family, she would not have been legally protected. Now, she is not connected to the Jammat family.

“The customers would not stop coming, day or night, so our work lasted 24 hours.”

A native of Kerala, Oviya’s parents “gave” her to the Jammat family in Tamil Nadu, at the age of 16, because of her gender identity. The family was “too big” and so she was transferred to Kamathipura. Language barriers didn’t allow her to beg in the trains of Mumbai, and so they (Jammat family) gave her sex work to do.

Many years later, Oviya approached Sahodaran, in Chennai and sought help. Her parents were notified and came with Sahodaran’s team to bring her back to Chennai. Oviya filed a case against her parents for selling her into sex work as a minor, which was taken up at the Madras High Court. She won, and got 2.5 crores worth of property and 7 companies under her name. But she is still unable to access them.

Legislations like Inheritance and Marital laws, do not explicitly recognize transgender persons thus creating legal ambiguity in the application of legal awards like right to property and ownership.

Before coming out, Charulata worked as a psychiatrist under the name Dr. Subramanyan Anand—the identity her voter ID and Aadhaar card still carry. “When I came out, I was denied work. I need to be Subramanyan Anand to work as a counsellor, psychiatry counsellor because I deal with psychiatric patients. As a transgender, the doctor’s claim is like this.

How can I deal with a psychiatric patient? How will they accept? The patients. How will the patients accept? How will the patients accept a transgender? They can’t. That’s why I just quit my job, and I was wandering all around, end up here (Chennai). When I came here, the police found me sleeping at the Central railway station. My brother had filed a Habeaus Corpus case.” It was a ploy to bring her back to Kerala, where he held her in a room for two days.

She has deliberately kept her documentation unchanged: being officially recognised as transgender would be a hindrance to her inheritance rights. “Accessibility is our issue. Legal heirship, marriage, jobs, even mental health. Nothing is covered. It is there on paper as black and white but not in application,” she said.

‘Garima Greh’, or ‘Houses of Dignity’, are shelter homes established under the Transgender Persons (Protection of Rights) Act 2019, providing basic facilities like food, medical care, and recreation. To be eligible, one must be “abandoned” or “preferably living below the poverty line,” aged between 18-60, and unemployed. There are 18 Garima Grehs across the country, with just one in Tamil Nadu.

Ramya Eswaran, project manager of the Chennai Garima Greh, says they haven’t received funding since 2023. “This is the case for all 18 shelters. They keep saying we will get it soon. We received the funding for 2023–24 only this year.” The backlog is currently being borne by Jeeva Rangaraj, Founder and Director of the Transgender Rights Association, which runs the shelter.

These homes provide skills training and even employ some people seeking shelter, but they restrict those living there from going outside the home. “I had some privileges. I had an education. I know my way around. But not everybody has that advantage. This place is meant for everybody. So, the majority of the community, they are still begging or in sex work. And, if you want to give a dignified life, you want to do something life-changing for them, the first thing you need to do is cut off all those things,” says Sayukta, a transgender woman who has been living at Garima Greh for about 5 months now.

Sayukta had rented a house from a friend for three years, but the rent kept rising until she lost all her savings. Left stranded, she tried hostels, PGs, and NGOs. “Many are still conservative and wouldn’t let a trans woman in.” Private housing for transgender persons exists, but sparsely, with fewer beds and comes with the condition that residents seek work through the organisation running it, making it inaccessible to freelancers like Sayukta.

Born2Win Social Welfare Trust, a transgender-persons, led organisation, offers education and employment to its members and shelter residents. “We have 12,000 transgender persons employed by us at present,” says Shweta, Born2Win’s founder.

This figure is itself a contradiction. The 2011 census recognised only 22,364 transgender persons, while multiple NGOs put the current estimate closer to 5 lakhs. This discrepancy, and the absence of any formal census since, gives the government little impetus to establish more shelter homes.

According to Election Commission data, Tamil Nadu had 9,464 third gender electors on its rolls before the Special Intensive Revision exercise—a number that dropped to 7,617 out of a total 5,67,07,380 electors. When asked about the over 2,000 deletions, Thiru. V. Sridhar, Additional CEO & Additional Secretary to the Government’s Chief Electoral Office, said, “A lot of them have either died or migrated to another district.” The discrepancy only deepens.

The enrollment process itself is a barrier. “A voter ID is like a stretch. There are a lot of small steps, actually battles, that we have to fight first. Get a state Transgender card, then a national Transgender card, change your Aadhar as well. The voter ID is like the final step,” says Sayukta. Many transgender persons remain listed under their previous names and gender identities in the voter rolls.

V. Sridhar noted that the government ran campaigns to enrol transgender persons, but those interviewed cited a lack of awareness as a major reason for low numbers—an awareness gap that persists despite initiatives, largely because of how lower-ranking officials treat transgender persons directly.

Sarvesh, who currently resides and works at Garima Greh was verbally harassed when he went to get his Transgender card in July 2025. Sarvesh was in the process of transitioning when he went to the office, the worker there told him that he had never seen Transgender men, only Transgender women. The worker assumed Sarvesh was a “tomboyish girl” because “I was wearing a shirt and pants and I hadn’t cut my hair yet.”.

The worker asked Sarvesh for sexual favours. “I felt like I didn’t want to try again. I don’t need this card at all.”

Sarvesh did go back, and was forced to face the same worker. This time, he took a transgender woman he knew, who had contacts, because he had to “prove his identity.”

Even before the 2026 amendment came in, transgender persons have had to prove themselves time and time again. Only this time, this act makes it compulsory for them to be proven, in front of a medical board. A medical board that shall hold the power to decide someone’s gender identity.

“They only care what is between our legs, not what we have between our ears,” states Sayukta.

Like most of the rights mentioned above, medical rights and accessibility continue to remain only words on paper for transgenders seeking surgery. Rajiv Gandhi Government General Hospital provides for free gender-affirming surgeries and yet most individuals prefer to get their surgery done through private hospitals solely due to accessibility issues faced in the government services. Consultations in the transgender clinic in the hospital are only available on Fridays from 9am-2pm.

“If you go for surgery to a government facility then it can take a minimum of a year or more to start the surgery,” said Sayukta. Additionally related procedures to the gender reassignment surgeries are not covered by the government or by insurance as they are considered cosmetic surgeries. “We have to pay out of our own pocket because how does one get insurance? Through their jobs and where is that?” said Sayukta.

Additionally, to get gender reassignment surgery one needs a Transgender card. Getting a transgender card comes with its own difficulties however with the latest amendment to the Transgender Act passed, where in self identification is no longer recognised and only biological and physical traits are, the process to get the card requires a medical certification stating they are undergoing gender affirming procedure which creates a vicious loop.

“What the government is doing is strategic, they know the ways to attack us and they say they want to get rid of ‘fake trans people’ but we aren’t included in the discussion. If they include us in the discussion, then we can tell what we need.” said Sayukta.

When asked about the technicality issue with the new Amendment regarding needing a Transgender card to get gender affirming procedure but needing a medical certification of the procedure to get a Transgender card, Resident Medical Officer, Dr. P. Umpathy said, “Yes.”

Hormone therapy is an important component and expense for many transgender persons who intend to or are going through gender reassignment procedures. However, the cost is borne by themselves as this too is not covered by a scheme. Side effects of the hormones is an additional burden carried by them; Charulata’s legs have swollen and are bruised due to the effects of the hormones. To overcome the mental harassment faced, Charulata was referred to a psychiatrist. The medical professional diagnosed it as “now, ‘he’ is a TG.” Charulata explains, “it is not now that I am transgender but it is from birth. We have nothing to say about what we were born as but what is between our ears. If a trained medical professional can’t understand that then who can?”

Side-effects and mental harassment aren’t covered in any insurance or scheme and due to lack of access to better hormonal alternatives, Transgender men and Transgender women continue to bear the costs with their own expense leading to many to rely on Jammat systems. All these costs are not an exhaustive list of expenses that transgender persons need to incur to simply survive; at every juncture they face a cost simply due to inaccessibility caused by their identity, a way of society to charge them a “transgender tax.”

According to a study conducted by the NHRC in 2018, 96% of transgender persons are forced to do low-paid or undignified work and resort to other means of livelihood such as begging and sex work. Charulata and Sayukta are both professional; psychiatrist and chemical engineer, but can not get a job after affirming their own identity.

With several rights under consideration to be revoked by the amendment and self identification no longer recognised, “we might have to give our Transgender cards back,” said Sayukta.

While it was for an assignment, I just needed an excuse to keep going back to this mess and in the process, record my extremely energetic, hilarious, charming and sweetly crazy friend. As you will see, he is just sooooo natural in front of the camera.

There are about 40 days left before we are set free and wild so I share this documentary about the tiny mess called Durga Bhavan as a way to remember that there will always be a corner where things don’t seem to be crashing and burning, even if it is a mess. The food is absolutely delectable.

I have long been grappling with the concept of time. As a diligent spectator to my life, I really want to ask creators/ the executive producers/ the energy source/ the force/ whatever word “He” wants to go by: is someone else watching this?

There should be, right?

As we know, ‘Hell is empty and all the devils are here’ so sometimes finding hope in this absolutely draining world is through letting someone else see the small moments of your life. The absolutely delectable food you ate, or the gorgeous shopping spree you went on or the fascinating conversation you shared as you walked down your path.

When you feel like you are living for more than just passing your time but sharing it.

To be perceived is to live.

The world keeps spinning and things keep happening and yet it can be all so hollow if you are supposed to let it all just pass by. Are experiences empty when all I have to confirm they’re real is my own mind, which often strays and finds itself just watching things go by?

The world seems more real and hopeful when I'm not the only one watching.

If the world is a stage and we're all playing our parts, then we're also meant to be each other's audience. We perform for each other. We witness each other. We hold chairs for each other's lives and they hold them for ours. We offer small things that say: this reminded me of you.

I want to listen to their stories, the delectable food they ate, the weights they lifted, the conversations they had and the path they walked.

Sometimes chairs will become empty and the world keeps being beautiful and terrible and worth noticing. And so I will have to continue witnessing it.

I want to be perceived. I want to perceive how the world is for those that made mine what it is now. Not let things pass but share what makes it possible. If we can all sit, scroll, and stare at the world crashing around us, shouldn’t we also sit and marvel at how the small things light up the faces of those who deserve everything? Shouldn’t my mind let me make it possible for them and then in turn make my life something other than a spectacle for myself.

I don’t want to be a spectator to my life; I want it to be a messy chaotic entertaining and a tribute to every person who continues to sit and watch what is to come. I would love to pull a chair and watch the wonders they do with their lives because I assure you they deserve the brilliance. They deserve the roses at the end. The household story of community theatre.

Anna* wanted the mainland people to be as oblivious of her as they were of her shop. She did not want their stares or their curiosities. She had left the conflict-torn Manipur in 2011 to make a living in Chennai and not to be pestered by probing questions. It was uncomfortable for her to talk about a conflict back home when she herself was so far from it.

Anna came to Chennai because the city offered more economic opportunities than Imphal, where she could either become a teacher or join hospitality. "I had to make more money, and Chennai felt safer than other metros," she explained. For years, she worked as a salesperson at a shop in Palladium, saving every rupee. Eight months ago, she finally leased and opened "The Northeast Shop."

“No one but people from Manipur, Nagaland and Mizoram come here,” she said happily. She preferred it that way. There were shelves lined up with Wai-Wai packets, King-Chilli paste and Sunday coffee mix. “People have their own tastes and these are our favourites back in Imphal,” she said as she stocked some pickled prawn candies into a small handwoven basket.

Whenever the conversation would steer towards Manipur, she would have a stern expression and would give obviously incorrect pretexts that she is busy.

“I don’t like to talk about Manipur here,” she said as she turned her chair away. “No pictures of the shop.”

It has been six years since she last went to Imphal.

After assurance of her complete privacy, she explained how, in 2023, the government-ordered internet shutdown in Manipur made her feel so distant from her hometown, “I would wait for my family to call because they (government) had shut down the network and so they would find ways to contact me and tell me if they are okay.”

Her family is still in Imphal. The tension between Manipur’s communities has existed since the 1990s, but the 2023 violence saw ethnic cleansing ravage the territory without proactive intervention from the Centre. “No one wants to leave their home, but if there is no other option, then someone has to do something,” Anna said tersely. She left because staying was not an option.

“Whatever is happening there affects us here, too,” she continued, gesturing to the bare shelves in her shop. “The prices for all these items increase because transportation becomes difficult. Factories and shops get closed or burnt down there.” Even the essentials are harder to get.

Anna is not alone. The Tamil Nadu State Planning Commission found that 15.9% of migrants in Chennai are from the seven Northeast states. Now Velachery has a thriving community of migrants who have set up provision shops and restaurants catering and representing their hometowns.

One of those restaurants is Feli’s Kitchen, located near Anna’s shop. Feli, the co-founder and chef, came to Chennai years ago to work in hotels before opening her own place. Unlike Anna, Feli is more open about her homeland in Mizoram and that could be because of a variety of reasons, including the safety of having her family in Chennai now.

“My restaurant started because so many people from our Northeast community missed the taste of home,” said Feli, the co-founder and chef at Feli’s Kitchen, located near The Northeast Shop. “It feels at home if you have food that tastes like home,” she said gleefully.

To keep the flavour authentic to the tastes of Manipur, Mizoram and Nagaland, Feli talked about how she gets raw materials like sticky rice, dry vegetables and spices from her hometown in Mizoram.

She knows that despite her efforts to make her food palatable to all the different homelands her customers come from, she will always let a bit of Mizoram slip in. However, the community remains strong. Feli organised a special live music event on January 21, to celebrate Manipur Statehood day and many students and working professionals poured in because in a city where they are always greeted with stares, this was a recreation of a homely spirit.

“Everyone has a community here based on where they are from. Nagas have a Naga community, Kukis have their own and like that, everyone forms their own group,” Feli explained, “but at the end of the day here, no one has conflict with each other because who has the time. Everyone is working and everyone has to look after each other.”

They try to keep the turmoil in Manipur away from their work here and avoid the stares that they still get when they walk around the city. However, in 2023, when a video of two women in Manipur being paraded naked started circulating, they held a protest with the women’s wing of the DMK party, demanding that the centre take action against the conflict in their home.

The conflict in Manipur has been going on for so many years and the lack of attention it gets from the mainland only fuels the distress.

Recently, Manipur violence made it to the headlines after Boong, a Manipuri film, won India’s first Bafta for Best Children’s & Family Film. Lakshmipriya Devi (Director) called for peace in Manipur in her speech, which has now been deleted from Bafta’s social media. The Prime Minister had more to say about the film winning than he did in his half-day visit to the UT, two years after the violence became rampant.

It is thus for all these reasons that Anna refused to talk about her leaving Manipur, because while her homeland remains in turmoil, people around are staring at it silently. What more could she say?

Recently I realized I've had this exact thought three different times. Four, maybe. That a friend of mine has been away from me longer than I had known them.

With him, we were the kind of friends who knew way too much about each other. The kind of friends where I didn't think it necessary to bid farewell even when all signs pointed towards diverging paths. The paths went in such different directions that I have no idea where he is. I don't know if he still carries fancy stationery that all his friends steal. I don't know what he does, and I don't know what his normal is.

I remember his birthday but that's the only detail that still remains his.

What do I do with the other details I remember?

I used to be so sure that we would be heading the same way; even school was sure that if nothing else, we would at least be in the same college, but my confidence really didn't measure up against reality.

But it was fine.

Everything was fine.

We still had our phones in hand. We still had the same friends and same interests and Instagram would make it so easy to keep up.

But keeping up started to feel like chasing.

It was the same story so many times.

It was the same story with the friend whose house I crashed. She and I had briefly disappeared from each other. Had to make up for lost time, something that has never been in our favor. Should I tell you about the home I left behind or the one I am trying to build? Reminisce and keep up or just be and make new details that might collect dust later?

All the details from all of them are just stored somewhere. Everything I want to hold onto but can't.

There are so many barrels and so many lemons and each time I try to handle it, process it, learn from it, I end up a little funnier than I planned on being—character development, material for a special I'll never actually do.

I am sure I wouldn't be where I am today without collecting all of this and maybe this loop will go on for long but I was fine where I was. I am fine where I am. I don't want to be fine elsewhere. Even though I know I will be fine.

No one has ever doubted my ability to be fine. "It's her, she is always fine." And that has been true throughout. We are all fine. Our barrels are in great condition and something absolutely fine is brewing always.

If it is established that everything will be fine then can I please worry about something else? Can I please not find myself sunk into different barrels, wondering about those that helped me be where I am and instead be there with them? How many more times should this loop go on till I am certain that this is the one that will not collect dust? That this will be the one that I won't soon have to be fine with?

I am confident that I am glad of where all these paths have taken us. I am just tired of always being fine. But you know what, I have so much lemonade now.

As you can tell, I have a very happening life.

Anyway, my college did not see my story. But the absolutely gorgeous, hilarious, smart and delightfully insane comedian, Gianmarco Soresi did. He invited me to his show, which was on 14th Feb.

No, I mean it. My random story about needing to go to his show for “research purposes” actually worked. I am doing my dissertation on “Comedy as a tool of political dissent,” but I didn’t know that saying my truth and literally begging the social media universe would lead me to my favourite comedian.

It felt so weird. On that day, everything felt lighter. It couldn’t be that easy.

This wasn’t something I wanted on a whim. Months before I even knew this show happened, I started obsessing over comedy and the impact or power it held. People were so invested in Kunal Kamra’s controversy and for some, it was how they learnt about Maharashtra politics. Gianmarco was part of Zohran’s campaign and he speaks up relentlessly and so accessibly about major global news, including the genocide in Gaza. I knew I wanted to go to the show and I knew it was for a good reason.

I wish to be this sure and clear about so many things in life. I’ve wished for simpler things than this. Things that seemed more solid, more inevitable than this gorgeous comedian seeing my Instagram story. Some of those wishes are still sitting somewhere, waiting. Did I not want this enough?

My +1 for the show was my attached-to-the-hip wife aka Reva Thakkar. A week before the show, we were given an assignment to shoot a documentary. As the creative energies would have it, Reva decided to make hers on me. More specifically, it was on me meeting Gianmarco. If I meet Gianmarco.

I did meet him.

And she made an entire documentary about me. On Valentine’s Day, my wife made a documentary on me meeting my celebrity crush. Things seemed to be great.

So, I’ll roam around with all my wishes because this show has made me a little more hopeful of how being absolutely shameless can work wonders. Maybe it was a one-off but who knows? It’s nice to want something.

Anyway, here is her documentary!