POSTS

I brought my high school literary magazine home to distressingly little fanfare. I placed it on the coffee table, where it sat until my Nana1 came to visit. He found it there, collecting dust, and gave it a read. “Neha! You are a poet,” he exclaimed, as he shuffled...

After the publication of my second book, almost eight years ago, I went underground. At the time, I wasn’t really speaking with my family. I think of this time as benching myself, which entailed a few concrete actions, like deleting all my social media for example–but...