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War in the Delhi Metro: On proximity, privilege, and the illusion of distance

War always seemed universes away. On the 7th of May, I was on my way home after covering a security drill in a residential society in Delhi’s Mayur Vihar Phase 1. It was a routine practice assignment — my first solo coverage as an intern at The Times of India. I remember thinking that it was a political stunt. There’s no way there would be an attack so far from the border, right? I covered the drill, submitted the article to my supervisor, and clocked off work for the day. My sister called while I was on the metro. She told me things were tense in Bathinda. The cantonment was under heightened alert, movement in the cantt. had been halted, and armed men were stationed near our house. I thought to myself, the precaution is great, but again, there’s no way there would be an attack so far from the border, right? On the 8th of May, I went to work as usual. The article I wrote was printed. Page 4. My name, in The Times of India. I couldn’t stop smiling. It felt like everything I’d been worki...
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Religion and Human Morality: A commentary on theological history.

Language. What is the purpose of language? The expression of opinions and perspectives, discussion and conversation. When it comes to a question of circumstances and situations that hinder that process, perhaps the most prominent is the concept of religion and the rules therein that guide one’s behavior. Religion, in itself, is an extremely controversial topic to have a discussion on, be it on whatever basis. But like that could ever stop me from coming on here and saying that I, on an extremely personal level, find the concept of religion both irrelevant and imperative. Many evils of this world can be attributed to religion, but that cannot take away from the reality that religion, initially at least, was formed as a way to normalize the concept of human morality. The Divine Command theory talks about how an action is only morally good because it is a commandment of god. As you go further back in time, back to when the first religions came into being, it is very evident that the rules...
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je ne sais quoi: On poetry, the art form I keep closest to my heart.

In my meager years as a writer, I’ve realized but one thing. Writing is a difficult profession. Writers find themselves in the position of a boulder rolling down a steep hill. It destroys everything in its path but is unable to stop, even if it wants to do nothing other than stop. I have so much to write and so many emotions to delicately express using the gift that is language and poetry, but I don’t have the words. A writer can never truly look at any of their works and say, “Wow. This perfectly encapsulates what I was trying to express.” Because it can’t. That is the downside of writing. No words can ever truly express the tsunami that is any emotion. I find myself desperate to write at times, desperate to push out words that express literary genius as well as emotional depth. But I have no words. On one hand, I sometimes look at my work and think, “Wow. That is some damn good writing.” But on the other hand, I look at the same work and think, “This isn’t working. It’s good literary...
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What is love?: On Aristotle Mendoza, my most beloved fictional character.

  TW: Mentions of Suicide, Death, etc. CW: Spoilers for both parts of Aristotle and Dante by Benjamin Alire Sáenz "You are a beautiful boy." -Aristotle Mendoza, to himself There's something so insanely pristine about the love Aristotle felt for Dante. So pure and unfiltered, yet so soft and hidden. Ari is a dangerously complex character, and it's challenging to think of him as just a character and not a real human being. The way he feels for everyone in his lifeー his father, mother, siblings, Gina and Susie, Sam and Mrs. Quintana, and Dante, most of all ー  is like he's building a dam to hold back the weight of an entire ocean. I once read this in a fanfic: "The love pours out of Yunho like a continuous flood, and Minhyuk has never been so grateful to drown." I think it's similar for Ari. However, instead of love, there are just feelings. No matter how many dams he builds, his feelings keep rushing out of him from the minuscule holes in the walls crea...
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Letters of Love: On the very personal art of writing, whether poetry or prose, as a means to convey the emotion of love.

Today, I sat down and reread all the letters of love I've written. No, I don't mean love letters. Letters of love. Word pieces, whether prose or poetry, that convey my love for one person or the other. I read every single one I still have access to, dating as far back as 2019. I've long since gotten rid of the ones I wrote before that simply because it was terrible writing. I tend to believe that whenever I enter a depressive dump, I stop feeling, that I have become incapable of the one thing that makes a person a human: the ability to feel. But rereading these letters, I now realize that I have never, not once, stopped feeling. Even in the worst of my depression, I haven't stopped feeling. My problem is actually just that. I feel too much. I allow too much to affect my heart. But god fucking hell, do I love. My therapist once refuted my claim that I am not a person who is prone to addiction. She said that I might not be prone to addiction when it comes to substance, bu...
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