Stories that demand to be told | #54
The things I do when I am not doing the things I am supposed to do, are the things that SAVE me. Lean into your scattered mind. Trust me.
Welcome to Ochre Sky Stories, a home for writers from the workshops and courses facilitated by
and .This is the 54th edition of Stories that demand to be told, a curated spread of the most evocative, resonant, real stories.
1. Unlearning Disappearance ~ by
One day, I just stopped. I stopped holding what was never mine to carry. I let it go—not in anger, not in chaos, but in clarity. And in that moment, something inside me exhaled—truly exhaled—for the first time in years.
I didn’t storm out. I shed a skin. A role I had worn for so long, I’d started to believe it was me. The version of me who bent, who yielded, who shaped herself to fit into someone else’s comfort—she was worn out. She had done her job. And it was time to let her go.
I didn’t look back. Not because it didn’t hurt—but because, for the first time, I chose myself.
I had no idea what was waiting for me on the other side. No plan, no neat resolution. Just a quiet certainty that I couldn’t stay, not like that. I chose myself so my daughter would know she could too. So she’d see that when someone in a relationship isn’t treating you with respect, you don’t have to stay and suffer through it. You can walk away. You can start again.
2. A Royal Pain ~ by
I was kneeling and I was stuck. My calf and ankles were short circuiting, and it was very rapidly going cold and numb. I quietly held the friend’s hand who was standing next to me and sought help. I am hoping no one noticed me standing up with the help of two very willowy people. The only thing on my mind was that I don’t pull them down with me!
After every such episode, I want to head to the gym the very next day. Do lunges and squats and jumps and whatnots. The ‘very next day’ never really comes! As in, they have, I have gone to three gyms in the last 19 years — 7 days, 3 days, 1 day.
3. February Fasching Fashion~ by
Another time I dressed up as a Zigeunerin (a so-called gypsy woman). I absolutely loved the colourful costume my mother put together for me. I had no idea then that the word Zigeuner carried such a history of deep pain and prejudice. The same goes for the time I wanted to be a Native American (remember Injun Joe from Tom Sawyer?) As an adult I am forced to reexamine many happy childhood memories and much-loved books through this new lens. The irony is not lost on me. Gypsies are of Indian origin and Christopher Columbus called Native Americans, Red Indians because he thought he had landed in India. So, the Indian child who considered herself quite German, engaged in cultural appropriation?!
4. What is it called? ~ by
There are people in this world with delightful D drives. Their folders are named well and nested like Inception. Even the pictures on their phones are sorted. Ask them for their Aadhar card, and they don’t send you their cat or book trains for the wrong date. Their desktops are minimal. Here I am accidentally sending a photocopy of an old National Savings Certificate along with a book in a courier someone asked me to do. There are little surprises for me every day. Like, “Oh, how did this sock get here…and where is the pair?”
5. Apne Gham Ko Lekar Kahin Aur Na Jaaya Jaye ~ by
Written in my ❤️ Rhythm of our stories Ochre Sky Stories with Raju Tai, Vimal Chitra and Natasha Badhwar ❤️❤️❤️
6. My Big Yellow Bikini ~ by
Does wearing a swimsuit mean you finally accept yourself as you are? Perhaps not. Acceptance is a lifelong process. A rickety bumpy journey back to the self as it were.
But for a small town girl who spent half her life hating and hurting her body and the ongoing half repairing the damage done to it, it can mean many things.
It can mean that scars finally feel like flowers unfurling, creating unique patterns on skin/bone/heart/soul.
7. The things I do when I am not doing the things I am supposed to do ~ by
The things I do when I am not doing the things I am supposed to do, are the things that SAVE me.
Lean into your scattered mind. Trust me.
It’s a beautiful universe within you. It’s also a lot of fun and learning.
8. A poem is not the opposite of a story ~ by
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