The Sukshma Series is a first-hand account of an educated woman of post-colonial India reflecting on how the social and political set-up of the country defined the status of an Indian woman.

I push my weightagainst the sturdy swing-doorof Nani’s house.My eyes catch white and grey: Nana’s pebble gardenwhere we would discoverfat pieces of rock. Khadiya. We would..

in my dream, my brain talks about brainsbeing more or less the same, resembling kidney beans, sprouting web-like dendrites, wired for synaptic connection,passing signals cell to cell through axons,rosette-tipped, purring like..

The blooms have each waited inside a small, tight bud all winter long. Each a sex-nub, a tender, excitable mound of tree-flesh rousing to sunlight’s..

It would be so easyTo be lost hereIn your armsIn the windBy the river. I don’t hear the hawk,Though you do. All I hear is the Almost-roarOf..

When we packed our things from paint-chipped cupboards, and made peace with stains of wine on the carpet- too permanent to move out with us;..

quiet & beloved memory—serpent swallowing mouse wholea vibration of the tail—warning of appetiteI collect your worst flaws in a jar, colorfulI taste them—candy, I loathe..