First Person

  • delhi How Delhi Power Cuts Shaped Our Childhoods

    Anyone who has lived in Delhi of the 1980s and ’90s, will remember the legendary load-shedding power cut that used to be a way of life – and how it characterised our adolescent days. Power cuts were to Delhi what traffic was to Mumbai.

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  • college Why Leaving Campus Reminds Me of an Amicable Divorce

    Graduating from college, if you’ve lived on campus, is like a bittersweet parting, like a divorce. You love its positivity, but you know it’s over. You know that everything has an expiry date.

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  • Only the Lunatics Watch the Moon in Mumbai

    Inboxes flooded with images of the super moon from across the globe as it traversed one time zone to another, bewitching everyone with its triple magic. A city had managed to remember that there’s a moon in the urban sky.

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  • navyday The Unlikely Friendship Between a Navy Pilot and a Seagull

    A crash-landing in the Arabian Sea brought together two seafaring flyers in the most extraordinary circumstances.

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  • PsychiatricFacility Two Weeks in the Psych Ward

    In the common ward of the psychiatric facility, I was certain my condition was worsening because of the atmosphere. In that motley crew of recovering addicts and schizos, I found friendship and the will to go on.

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  • JaggaJasoos Life on Stutter Island

    When you’ve lived with a lifelong stutter, everyone around you seems to have immeasurable patience.

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  • “Beta, Gana Ga Ke Sunao!”

    There is a tribe of parents that subjects their guests to the talent of their kids, even when said guests have no desire to be subjected. My parents were the leaders of that tribe.

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  • Autism Lessons in Joy from My Autistic Son

    I’d hoped that my child, diagnosed with severe autism could be mainstreamed, could be like other children. We didn’t know it but this relentless hope was killing us.

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  • My Life as Sweaty Betty

    Hyperhidrosis is a weird kind of illness. It’s enough of a condition to have an important sounding name, but it isn’t debilitating enough for people to feel sorry for you.

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  • MyAbsentAbba My Absent Abba

    My Abba and I barely spoke. And while the lives of my friends’ fathers were not as complicated as my Abba’s, their memories of daddy-daughter conversations were limited too.

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