Art in a Pandemic: Journeying Towards Self Acceptance Through Art
Editors' note: Painting, for many of us, offers both a mode of expression beyond words, as well as a practice and process that can be deeply healing, meditative and meaningful in its very act. The same can be said of the act...
The Gods Call Elias Home
Elias had swapped his wild dreams for a box of pills. He told me so when we were crouched on the pavement outside the Police Headquarters in Delhi, beside the makeshift coal fire the imams had left. There had been another...
Making Pharma Research Public, Creatively
Editorial note:
With the global mental health movement augmenting the reach of Big Pharma far beyond developed countries, there has been an increase in clinical diagnoses, prescriptions and treatments in low-resource and developing countries. In several countries in...
Under: A Poem
I try to meet you on even groundbut somehow always get lost.Around me are ruins of a silenceit’s difficult to clamber out of. Theynever said fishbones swallowedat nine would remain stuck in mythroat like razor blades in sandeven after forty. I pack...
Psychiatric Overdose: A Poem
Earning a fast buck inThese vulnerable times…
Psychoanalysis gives way toA faster remedial approach —
Curative doses initiating chemicalReactions within.
With upheavalsLeft to heal by time alone,
Caregivers prescribe drugsThat...
Clothes: A Poem
Poet's note: The poem is about someone I knew who had dementia. Dementia is not only about memory loss and cognition, there are a host of behavioural issues too. One of the things that someone who has dementia does often is looking/searching/...
Anxiety: A Poem
Extreme unwanted energy blasting through the skin,heart the epicentre where all destruction unfolds,hands trembling, mind unsettled,eyes wandering in search of comfort.
Cheeks flushed red like freshly plucked cherries,everything, everyone a source of danger,pricking you like the needle pricked Sleeping...
world: a poem
sometimes the world is madeof broken shards of kisses and screamsby dark, dusty roads of moon-less winds that swoop you up and make you feel non-existent.existence is a good feeling,not the epitome of limitless wrathover sparks and make-believe identities.
The Silent Tree
Aarav hadn't liked the art class with the elephant. Suman Ma'am had drawn one out on paper, then cut out its outline and traced it on a bar of soap. Even though Nani had said that the elephant was Ganesha — very...