Being a woman is a journey.
At 24, I cannot say I’ve seen enough of the world.
But I have seen all of my world.

For my grandmothers, an education was a snubbed commodity.
My mother’s independence, a ‘rebellion’.
Years later, I find myself - an Indian, brown, educated, free woman - still fighting to be completely myself in a world that writes its rules differently for me...just because I am a woman.

Turns out keeping my feelings muted is the 'feminine', proper thing to do. But I am not proper.

I am a sea of emotions & opinions.

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My battle to express every unfiltered experience of distaste as a gentle, soft-girl, has only just begun - and I am consciously, blatantly inconsiderate of its social repercussions. 


My adversaries are numerous.
The way I am expected to dress.
The way I am expected to think.
The way I am expected to speak.
The way I am expected to express...

But I am ecstatic. I am sad. I am angry. And I make art.

Things have pissed me off.
I intend to sing loudly about them.