Poetry endures because it refuses perfection. It carries within it the human crack, the breath that falters, the moment that slips between sense and sound. In its imperfections, it mirrors us.
A company can silence you in the name of brand safety or culture fit, and still claim to be defending freedom. The law keeps you out of prison, but it does not guarantee you a primetime slot or even the courage to raise your hand in a meeting
India is built on the crowd. We don’t just gather — we perform our existence in multitudes. But we still design our cities like we expect everyone to stay politely indoors until further notice
