G Writes

From LPG kitchens going dark to a defence sector surging, the US-Iran conflict has exposed just how deeply India's economy is wired into a region that is now on fire — and how thin the government's diplomatic buffer really was. The Timeline: How Fast Things Moved The crisis did not arrive slowly. It arrived the way a storm does — visible on the horizon for weeks, and then suddenly at the door. Feb 28 US-Israel launches first wave of airstrikes on Iran. The Strait of Hormuz enters a disruption phase almost immediately. Mar 2026 Saudi Aramco's Ras Tanura refinery is struck. Qatar halts LNG production after an attack on Ras Laffan. India's LPG supply chain begins fracturing. Mar 10 PM Modi calls Gulf leaders, speaks to Trump on March 24 about the West Asia situation. India publicly positions itself as seeking resolution. Mar 25 Indian Express publishes a widely-read piece comparing the war's psychological and economic disruption to the early days of Covid-19. Apr 2026 ...

The sun rays fought their way through the gap in the curtains, slicing across my eyes like a physical blow. My alarm screamed—a digital screech that seemed to vibrate inside my teeth. I swiped it off, the silence rushing back in, but the relief didn't follow. I lay there, staring at the ceiling fan cutting through the stagnant air. Which day is this? I wondered. It felt like the same day I had lived for the past six months. A gray, heavy loop. "Get up, Sruthi," I whispered to the empty room. "Just get up." I am Sruthi. On paper, I am a twenty-eight-year-old Senior Analyst at a top-tier firm. I am supposed to be in the prime of my life—ambitious, vibrant, climbing the ladder. But as I peeled the duvet off my body, I didn't feel twenty-eight. I felt ancient. I had slept eight hours. I had gone to bed at 10:00 PM like a disciplined child. Yet, as I swung my legs over the side of the bed, gravity felt twice as strong as it should be. There was no "ready to ...

  Onam has always been more than just a festival. For me, it has always been about being at home—with family, friends, and loved ones. The flowers, the laughter, the new clothes, and of course, the grand sadya—it was never about just traditions, but about the feeling of togetherness. When I think back to my childhood, my first memories of Onam take me to Mavelikara, my mother’s home. I can still recall the open spaces filled with countless flowers, the playful chaos of cousins running around, and the joy of slipping into brand-new dresses. Those days had a vibe of their own. Later, in Kottayam, Onam turned into a more intimate affair, but the spirit remained just as strong. After the festival, all of us cousins would gather at my great-grandmother’s house—a yearly reunion that we cherished deeply. My great-grandmother was the pillar that held our family together. She was a woman of wisdom and warmth, with a childlike charm that drew us to her. I remember her slipping small amou...

Every year on June 21 , the world comes together to roll out mats, stretch muscles, and celebrate International Yoga Day . And as social media floods with images of serene poses and peaceful parks, the word yoga becomes both a trend and a reminder. But yoga is far more than just a wellness routine or a path to flexibility. It's a civilizational offering , thousands of years old, rooted in profound philosophy, spiritual pursuit, and human transformation. Today, instead of another list of yoga’s health benefits, let’s trace its origin, evolution, and the surprising journey it took across the globe —a journey that began not in modern studios, but in the sacred fire of Vedic chants and the silence of Himalayan caves. The Ancient Birth of Yoga Yoga's roots reach back over 5,000 years , as recorded in the Rig Veda , one of the oldest known texts in human history. The Rig Veda—written in Sanskrit, the language in which yoga still speaks today—is a compilation of hymns and mantras...

I come from a middle-class family in Kerala. My skin is brown — brown enough to not fit the beauty standards this society has so rigidly defined. As I stand in front of the mirror, I see curves that are "too much," hair that is "too frizzy," skin that is "too dark." I have been conditioned to believe that this body — my body — is not enough. The voices around me were never kind. Relatives, neighbors, even parents, in their ignorance, made remarks that stuck to my skin like scars. “You’re too dark,” they would say. “You’re fat, your back isn’t straight, your body isn’t right.” They’d tell me not to wear white — it doesn’t “suit” me. They’d mock me for applying kajal, saying it blends into my skin tone. Red lipstick? Unthinkable. All too bold for a girl with this skin. Strangers stared. The media reinforced it. And slowly, I thought it was normal — all of it. Somehow, I grew immune to these comments. Maybe I’d just heard them so often that my ears stop...

  They came with laughter in their hands, With hearts like lanterns, glowing bright, To carve a moment out of time, Beneath the stars, beneath the light.   A mother’s prayer, a lover’s gaze, A child’s delight in winding roads, A dreamer’s pause where silence sang— All scattered now like fallen oaths.   A ring still warm upon a hand, A father’s hand, now cold, let go— Life torn away, so sudden, stark, Mid-laughter’s rise, mid-lover’s kiss.   What law of man, what claim to cause, Can stand where joy was laid so bare?  What twisted creed could sanctify The breaking of a breath so fair?   No faith commands this kind of fire, No flag flies high on bloodied peace This isn't faith, this isn’t right— No God would bless this kind of fight. So mourn we must, for lives now gone, But vow we shall, with burning cry: That never shall such horror reign, These tears will cost you far.   This terror has a name, a ...