Haakh
Far from Kashmir, in a modest Chandigarh garden, a physics teacher finds his days narrowing around a single, missing vegetable. When Balji cannot locate Monj Haakh, Kashmiri kohlrabi, in the markets, his quiet craving hardens into a plan that will demand borrowed seeds, a parcel of soil from the Valley, and a small square of earth he refuses to leave unattended. What finally breaks the long wait is not just a harvest, but an answer to what it means to keep living elsewhere.
It All Comes Full Circle. Exit The Circle Now…
A deeply personal reflection on duality, identity, and spiritual awakening,
Kashmir Through Her Lens, Philly Through Mine
The first time it snowed in Philadelphia, I was walking beside my mother on
There Was Life of a ‘Pi’, and Then There Is Life of an ‘I’
We fled Kashmir overnight, hidden in the back of a truck, eighteen souls pr
Rendezvous With My Master, My Soul Friend & An introduction To Mahavtaar Babaji
I met Dr. Uday Shah, spiritual scientist and authority on aura research, at
CRISPR Partner: The Urge to Edit Love
Love rarely announces itself as control; it arrives as care, wrapped in sug
The Roundabout View of Life!
Roundabouts are more than just traffic calming devices; they offer valuable
In Focus
The Invisible Passenger
The April 2026 voyage of the MV Hondius turned tragic when passengers began falling ill with a fatal respiratory condition, later identified as the Andes strain of hantavirus. This outbreak serves as a stark reminder of the unpredictable nature of zoonotic diseases and the rapid adaptation of RNA viruses. By examining the ship's incident alongside historical pandemics, the article underscores the hidden biosecurity vulnerabilities of global travel and highlights the critical need for sustained investment in public health preparedness.
Editor's Desk
Finding Lal Ded in the Noise
I am sitting cross-legged on my slightly bruised hardwood floor, actively trying not to think about when I will finally find the time to scrub it clean, while simultaneously attempting to achieve spiritual transcendence over the roar of the gardener unleashing an arsenal of violently loud power tools outside. More than six centuries ago in Kashmir, a woman named Lal Ded shed her clothes, walked out of a miserable marriage, and wandered the valley reciting vaakhs — piercing verses that dismantled every polite rule of religion and society. She wore only the sky. I forgot my cardigan at Waitrose last Tuesday.


