Life

Just One More Breath.

Swathy · November 2, 2026 · Leave a Comment

She stared at the stains on the tip of her right pink shoe recalling not seeing them while putting them on in the morning. ‘Great’, she thought. ‘More work for me by the end of day. When will these chores end. I want to live, not just do chores.’. Spending 45 minutes driving to work barely 5 miles away had drained all her morning energy. She had already been exhausted as she woke up.

The kid had commented about a smell as she entered the lift. She recalled her therapist using a room freshener after she left. ‘Do I smell? Am I living in filth?’, she wondered as she watched her colleague arriving towards their assigned seats, knowing the answer full well. She had not been able to change her bedsheet for over a month, she no longer bathed before going to work, the warm water turning her into liquid and killing the intent to go to office. Being visible in the workplace was essential. Many people had been let go lately, she would not let her hard work slide away unseen.

Every single day she had been fighting the fatigue and lethargy, often it would overcome her like a strong wave, heavy enough that she could not breathe, only wanting to crawl back to sleep. Slowly, very slowly, she started fighting that urge.

She had come a long way in the last 10 years, now she was proud to be able to take daily walks with Butter. She had recently graduated to lifting 10 pounds in the gym. She is looking forward to the next morning, has started planning the long awaited road trip to Bhutan with Butter, now she is impatient to live her dreams, if only her body would let her. She convinced herself to be patient, take it slow, let herself breathe as she took one more step, the day would come soon. For today, it was just one breath.

On Writing!

Swathy · August 19, 2026 · Leave a Comment

Stephen King advises to write with honesty and let the vulnerability of the author shine in the writing. I truly believe this is the hardest step for any writer to overcome.

Writing is a task which requires you to unburden and pour out your soul. However, for most people, although we are comfortable showing some parts of ourselves, we would love to keep the rest hidden away.

I have been battling with this struggle for years now. Whenever I start with a blank screen, words appear out of thin air when I am in the flow. The moment I step into the task consciously, I lose my memory, the castle I have built in the head suddenly vanishes and I am left gasping at the empty air trying to piece the article back together.

As soon as the process of writing becomes intimate, I back out. I do not want to reveal those thoughts to the world, I want to lock them behind the strongest wall, barred with huge chains and padded with a giant lock. Showing myself, revealing my innermost thoughts, laying down my fears and my dreams is frightening. It gives you, the reader, power over me.

Then comes the perpetual lurking fear of not being good enough – for others, and, before that, for my own self. I am my harshest critic. Before I can convince others of my worth, I need to convince myself.

When one struggles with such despair and such judgement, it is impossible to carry on. I have done everything in my power to overcome these insecurities and I failed every single time. Yet, the desire does not abandon me. It has stayed with me for over 15 years. The foundation I had laid back then has survived through all the ups and downs in my life. Yet with time, the desire to write and the fear of backlash just got stronger.

Finally, following yet another failure, I am back to writing and publishing regularly since this August. I am proud to add this article, the one you are reading currently, is the third post I published this month. Following King’s advice in part, I have put in my fears here, most I still leave for another time. And, I will see you next week with yet another piece of my soul.

Staying Consistent, Swathy and Sky

I Thought My Dog was a Bigot!

Swathy · August 12, 2026 · Leave a Comment

We have a sassy hunk, Summer, in our apartment. The first time we met him, Sky was so excited, she was dancing to greet him (she usually likes Shih Tzus). However, once she got the complete picture, her ardor cooled off instantly. Whereas, the boy is always so sweet and starts coo-ing the moment he sees us.

Why? Because Summer can see only through one eye. Due to an unfortunate accident, he lost his other eye. My queen, at times, deigns to return his excitement but mostly ignores him. It could be a simple disdain for the weak. On the other hand, may be she is too careful so she doesn’t accidentally hurt him. Or, may be she doesn’t understand how to behave around him.

And, that’s when it hit – Isn’t that how we behave when we are confronted with any kind of disability face to face?

Apart from the beggars on the street, half of whom we already know are pretending, or a few sales people in select shops, how many disabled people does a regular human encounter in their entire lives? Unless there is someone in the immediate family or friend circle, the disabled people exist on an entirely different planet than us.

Disabilities come in various degrees and most of the people fall somewhere on the spectrum, rarely do they fall on the 100% disabled zone. And, most often, the default reaction of anyone, privileged enough to never have been in contact with any disability, is to feel sorry for them. We have never thought of them as regular human beings, just like us. And, that’s where the problem starts.

I myself have had a minimal interaction with disability. As part of the arranged marriage mart, I came across a well-educated guy who had some issue with his leg. Not exactly sure what the issue was but it was enough to impede him from activities like driving, cycling, etc. Walking was fine but of course not aesthetic enough. He looked decent, talked intelligently, was probably earning well, but none of that mattered.

I still wonder how my life would have worked out had I pushed for that relationship. In that entire equation, this was the distinct impression I got – if I said yes, I would be bestowing a favor on the guy and his entire family would be thankful for that. Just because he was unlucky enough, something which could easily have happened to me or anyone else in the world.

To make matters worse, the opportunity to experience disability for a few hours has turned into a capitalist enterprise. A conceptual restaurant treats you to a three-course meal in complete darkness so you can get a glimpse of the daily lives of blind people. Turning someone’s reality into a sensory experience felt more like a mockery to me.

My health struggles taught me the importance of gentle ramps as opposed to stairs. Now, I can not unsee how the ramp that leads to the sidewalk in my residential community, worth crores of rupees, ends abruptly with a step. I, with all my intact faculties, have struggled to constantly step up and down the entire one kilometer long walkway. God forbid if someone in the wheelchair decides to take a stroll. Or, may be they should just stay at home!

The truth is society was never designed to be inclusive. In fact, the world we live in is not designed for senior citizens, gravely injured people or even pregnant women, let alone the differently abled. We prefer a healthy population and while we acknowledge the presence of the different strata, we prefer to keep distance. That is more comfortable for our vanity.

We are afraid of anything which looks and feels alien to us. We do not know how to process it, and that’s why we shun it. Not because we hate it, but because we do not understand it. That’s probably what Sky is doing also – trying to understand why Summer feels different from all other dogs. Since she doesn’t have the answer, she does not know how to react. May be, with time, she will learn. And, so will we.

With Love, Swathy and Sky