Indira Gandhi Institute of Development Research (commonly known as IGIDR) is a premier institute funded by the Reserve Bank of India. Students pursue higher studies in this college, that is, Master’s, MPhil and PhD in Economics. The Master’s students stay at the college hostel with individual rooms and attached bathrooms. The PhD students live inContinue reading “The Privileged & the Divide”
I asked a lot of people at college whether they would be interested in donating blood. A common question was, “Who is it for?” I did not know who would need blood and when. I just wanted to donate blood because it felt right. A part of me was asking myself: Why was I absolutelyContinue reading “Would You Like to Donate Blood?”
I don’t know who you are; whether you read the whole post, whether you liked it or not, whether or not you resonated with what I have written, just remember: you are really special to me. WordPress does not tell me who you are, but it allows me to see the country you are from.Continue reading “To my Readers: Gratitude and Love”
My eyes followed them to the end of the cafeteria, till they disappeared through the door. They were my heroes after all.
My friend called and said, “A good thing about PhD is you get to read and write.” My friend was partially correct. Let me rephrase, a thing about PhD is I have to keep reading and keep writing, because it will never be enough. Also PhD students stay at a place for far too long.Continue reading “Ghee”
A ray of sunshine galloped all the way through the sky, manoeuvred its way through the playful clouds and knocked on April’s window. She ignored the sound and rolled over on her bed, hugging her purple teddy-bear. The energetic ray made its way through her yellow curtains and caressed her eyes. April hid her eyesContinue reading “A Jar full of Sunshine”
“I will run in the morning”, I think to myself every night. I wake up late, somehow get ready for work. The only exercise that I get is my brisk walk from hostel to student office, from cafeteria to computer centre and then I sit on my chair. The day comes to an end andContinue reading “Run for Your Life!”
It all started on one misty morning in October, when the clock was striking six. There were very few people to be seen and the stray dogs were scavenging at the corner of the street. Muskan, Nazreen’s mother stood at the courtyard watering the plants. Her husband was out for his business dealings as usual,Continue reading “The Stranger”