#Scurf135: a strange stirring and... cats
about a specific connection I have had with cats since the second wave
#Scurf134: On 'Shauq' and Songs that Undo Us
On thinking with the soundtrack of Qala and working with its exquisite melancholy
#Scurf133: Borrowed words, stolen kisses, shared playlists
some evenings are just you sitting on the sofa thinking for long, unending minutes about someone, that one someone
#Scurf 132: A Constellation of Quiet in Rohmer's 'Four Adventures'
An unlikely silence in Rohmer's 'Four Adventures of Reinette and Mirabelle'
#Scurf131: mid-october
when all wilts and blooms, goes but also comes back, is here but also not
#Scurf130: this is a stream of consciousness essay
Why are we so concerned about so many things, and more importantly why can I not write everyday
#Scurf129: The introvert's dream
On the unearthed, imagined beauty of other people's houses
#Scurf128: Aimless thoughts from the wasteland of my existence
The fugue of in-between days when nothing seems to happen
#Scurf127: Dabs and Marigolds on a Delhi noon
On the flower that is all too ubiquitous in India and therefore, calls for strong commemoration and a gentle curiosity
#Scurf126: Missing Delhi in 2020
Where time looses its bearings and my mind comes apart thinking about what all I missed about the city during the covid lockdowns
#Scurf125: On being fooled by Delhi's monsoons
On trying to find false friends in the Capital's frail sprinkles
#Scurf124: Currently: main character energy
Ed Sheeran, Courtney Barnett and Leonard Cohen
#Scurf123: Sid Sriram changes my mind
On the fierce triumphs of 'Kumkumala' 💕
#Scurf 122: Delhi's rains and my writing practice
The similarities between of two of the most deceitful and waited for activities in my life
#Scurf121: Mrinal Sen’s lost short films
On finding a strange familiarity in these shorts, that were almost lost
#Scurf120: A Long Time I’ve Wanted to Say Something
On not talking, hardly expressing, always wading through the feeling of being insufficient
#Scurf119: On old photos
Some day I will scour through and share all the photos I've taken in the last decade, but for now these words will suffice
#Scurf118: I'll call you
A fiction piece
#Scurf117: I love rains, memories and chai but I'm still against nostalgia
On various things considered pristine just because they are in the past
#Scurf 116: The interior lives of lies we tell ourselves
On the art of lying to others and then to yourself
