In her stories, Nisha explores the faceless residents of the online world. These characters are like our parents. Occasionally, it strikes us that they’re not so great people but they continue remaining good people or even tolerable people simply because we are forced to know them beyond their prejudices.
I still wonder how my parents made ends meet, without disappointing us. Few months ago, my mother revealed that she would try not to pay the ticket price in the bus, so that she could save it for the next day. Yet she took me to Pizza Hut, and sat there while I ate away.
Self-respect is not a gift or an object that can be bought or given to us by anybody else, but a routine that must be practised in order for it to become something that we end up giving and gifting ourselves.
I live in a locality where Macha, Maga, Maams are used instead of dude, pal, bro. And because I am always at home now, Amma’s “Yelle idhya, Yavagle barthiya?” seems to have disappeared.
