An Open Letter to Aunties: End Family Detention
Auntie, I feel like I grew up with you. When I pass you in the street or see you in the spice store, I feel … Read more
Auntie, I feel like I grew up with you. When I pass you in the street or see you in the spice store, I feel … Read more
Hymn to Asafoetida To the chalky yellow sand-stuff that lived in my mother’s palm when I asked her, how do I stoke the hearth burning … Read more
To be a queer desi diasporic person is to be lonely. Lonely in rooms full of people with noses just like yours joking about which … Read more
The boy I loved was so dark, so dense, so soft in the air conditioning, so beautiful with his thick chest and spindle legs and … Read more
The Aerogram