Firojali.

I have been writing for longer than I have known what writing is for. It started as journal entries, became essays, and has since turned into this — a small place on the internet where I try to make sense of things through sentences.

I grew up in West Bengal, and that geography — its light, its pace, its layered contradictions — has shaped how I see most things. There is something about living between languages that teaches you to pay close attention to words.

The topics I find myself returning to again and again: memory and how unreliable it is, cities and what they ask of us, books and why we read them, the strange persistence of small rituals. I am interested in the texture of ordinary life — the slow, unspectacular moments that turn out to matter.

This notebook is updated when something feels worth saying, which is not always on a schedule. I prefer depth to volume. One considered piece over five hasty ones.

When I am not writing here, I might be found reading in bad light, taking the long way home for no particular reason, or having a strong opinion about tea.

If something I've written made you think, or if you disagree with something and have a good reason — I would like to hear from you.