The Story Behind The Journey, by Sanjibita McDonald Tarang Seng, Kolkata
I was exhausted and had promised myself a good sleep that night.
The Burning Tower, by Archana Surana, Jaipur
Never did the word 'negative' occur so differently to me.
Igniting Smiles, by Nirnay Chettri, Kolkata
“If you follow, it will fly, if you fly, it will follow,”
Goodness, by Mriganka Dadwal, New Delhi
The pandemic has only strengthened my belief in the inherent goodness of humans.
A Wait Over, A Wait Begins, by Sayani Kundu, Kolkata
On January 5th, my heart raced; the beatings multiplied as I took the test twice to confirm.
The Sky Disease, by Qurratul Ain Contractor, Mumbai
“How will people eat?” she asked a world more deaf than her.
Breathe, by Shuktara Lal, Kolkata
Safety is the luxury of not having to remind yourself to breathe.
The Sky is Blue, by Anurag Hoon, New Delhi
Delhi is the place which gave me purpose, family, and home. But I am one of those people who has seen the skies of Delhi turn black, during my lifetime.
How COVID Almost Broke My Heart, by Gopika Kormath Pannikotte, Chennai
In fact, we were all just trying not to hurt each other.
Is Blood Thicker Than Water? by Dhaval Jain, Kolkata
It was as if the pandemic were a monster descending upon us.
The Phone Call, by ElsaMarie DSilva, Mumbai
… in the midst of a sentence, she stopped speaking. The silence was deafening.
Securing Justice, Virtually, by Omar Hoda, Noida
A week into the lockdown, to the surprise of everyone, we were introduced to the world of virtual courts.
Diary of a Queer Woman During COVID-19, by Mayuri Deka, Guwahati
During the stay at home order, all of it came back, the anxiety and the trauma, and I had no strategy to deal with it.
The White Bench, by Paramita Saha, Kolkata
And here I was, alone and craving physical intimacy; craving even a hug. I felt I was dying slowly.
An Hour with Migrants During Lockdown, by Mathew Mattam, Pune
One youth was limping, and on another’s leg was bruised. All seemed tired and not able to walk an inch further.
Hello, Thermeh, by Syed Mohammed, Hyderabad
Confined to the house, my visions of what could have been became even more frequent and vivid.
The World Beyond My Bedroom Window, by Diya Basu, Kolkata
I reach my fingers gingerly up to my forehead. It feels warm to the touch.
Black and White Magic, by Vani Viswanathan, New Delhi
I was desperate for a non-screen activity to unwind, and I picked up the newspaper and thought, Why not?
Home is Where the Heart is, by Rajashri Sai, Mumbai
I started to cry, not for Arvindan, but for the thousands of people who had been named simply as “migrants.”
Mothers Can be Sous-Chefs, by Annapoorni Anand, Hyderabad
I flit in and out of the room, hoping he will look up and maybe engage with me, with anyone.