Kanchan Yadav

I n today’s digital age, we rarely give our minds the space it deserves. After leaving my full-time job recently, I decided to do a 10-day Vipassana course—and honestly, I don’t remember the last time I felt this close to my own thoughts and emotions. Maybe not in the last 4–5 years. I had heard about Vipassana through a friend, and I’m grateful I took her advice. The experience has made me more observant of my feelings, my reactions, and the way my mind jumps from one thing to another. But my thoughts on Day 0 were completely different. When I reached the centre—a small one in Nagpur—I wasn’t sure how I would spend the next 10 days without my phone, without talking, without any distraction. Still, a part of me was willing to experience something new. Buddha statue in Dhaama Sugati, Nagpur Day 1 was about understanding the routine, and it felt extremely tiring. Waking up at 4 am, sitting for hours, and simply trying to make it to “lights out” became a daily goal at first. In the next f...

Aakrosh is a film that will remain etched in my memory forever — not for its grandeur or drama, but for the raw truth it portrays. The state of affairs, the plight of poor women, and the devastating impact of injustice on a common man — everything in this movie hits hard and stays with you. At first, I couldn’t help but feel anger toward Lahnya. He appears to have committed the most heinous crime imaginable — killing his own sister. In court, he stands silent, refusing to answer even a single question from the advocate. His silence feels like arrogance. It’s easy to assume his entire tribe must be criminal and inhumane — a people devoid of values, ignorant of the law, and unworthy of trust. This perception seems to strengthen when a social worker tries to reach Lahnya’s family. Despite his best intentions and relentless efforts, the family remains unresponsive. They turn a deaf ear to him. Even after risking his life to reach them, facing threats and hostility from the villagers, he...

When I think of school mornings, I remember two things: the weight of my school bag, and the tug of my Dadi’s hands gently braiding my waist-length hair. Me in my Dadi’s lap while my elder sister smiles at the camera. Back then, I used to sit cross-legged on the floor, grumbling about how long it took, while she sat behind me on the edge of the bed, her fingers moving with rhythmic precision. Without fail, each day, she would tell me the same story—word for word, with the same pauses, the same expressions. "Beta, jaise paudhon ko paani nahi doge toh wo nahi ugte, waise hi agar baalon ko tel nahi doge toh wo nahi badhenge." (If you don’t water plants, they don’t grow. Likewise, if you don’t oil your hair, it won’t grow.) And just like every day, I would pretend to hear it for the first time. Truth be told, I never liked oiling my hair. It made my scalp feel greasy, and my hair, sticky and outdated. It wasn’t cool . While she lovingly warmed up coconut oil and massaged my ...