Alochanalu. As a person.

People: Cleary

My fourth-grade book report on The Mouse and the Motorcycle made me feel less alone and more understood in a time of my life when I felt at odds with being different. 💔

Rest easy, Beverly Cleary and know we love you. 🖤


Picked up by the twirling wind, the fallen leaf dances once more. Once forsaken by the very tree it was loyal its whole life to, it still remains a thing of beauty, as will be the leaf that falls after it. For this wasn’t betrayal, it was a celebration of its life and an honor bestowed upon it, the honor to finally fly without pain. The leaf has known no other world til now, though it has dreamt of many, their tales carried by the sweet wind and visiting bees. It’s painted one of many colors, or many colors as one. Ever the graceful angel that blesses all it touches, it was time to give back to the earth that gifted it life. It wasn’t any longer tied down with threads of anger, nor with strings of sadness. The leaf has a full life lived well behind it, without regrets. It has made peace, and so it chose to dance as it accepted the soil as its resting place. Who teaches it this dance? Perhaps no one. Yet still, it has witnessed each quiver of its kind among every evening’s breeze, and perhaps, was fascinated by the elegance, itself like a child intrigued and drawn in by the gentle ripples across a fresh rain puddle. The leaf had mastered the art in its mind some time prior, and proved it to itself and the world when it displayed its poise well. With the genteel strokes of a painter’s brush, its swinging down teasing the Earth of the kiss yet to come, just out of reach, so near yet so far. Once it touched the ground, the leaf lay there to rest, content with the thrill and the memories it held. Yet, there was a hint in the air, and all its fellow companions were quivering in anticipation.

For where there is another breeze, there is one more dance. 🍂


When a tempest throws a curtain on the moonlight, and the cover threatens to blind me for all eternity, that will be the night that tests the calibre of my words and my choices. I had promised myself I will remember to shine. And on that fateful night of winding twists and unraveling secrets, it will not be my trust in my own remembering that shall smoothly deliver me to such a mind state, for my memory has failed me countless times before, but in my promises, for I have built myself, over the years, a character within which lies a penchant for the impossible, a thirst for the intrinsic, and a conscience for the very essence of the words I utter. Each drop of my promise is carefully squeezed into suspended glass jars, where it gathers with the many drops of all I have ever promised, each resting impatiently in a line in its own vessel, transparent for all to see and judge. Each added drop feels heavy, these jars forever weighing heavily on my mind, until the day I can rest with my hand on my heart and say with pride that I’ve kept a promise, after which the forever ends, the jar’s contents tip over back into the river far below, and a new era of relief begins. One of confidence, courage, and renewed sense of insight for when I find I must promise once again after all.

Indeed, that is promising. 🤞🏼

I’m on Patreon

Launching the beta of my website, meant to be a one-stop storybook cottage for everything related to my storytelling. This bird was laid many moons ago, and is finally starting to hatch. I’m teaching myself many things as I go, and will tweak as time goes on. Just don’t be surprised if things look a bit different each time you visit!

I’ve also recently been getting a lot of emails about paid collaborations with online stores or being someone’s brand ambassador. Deep down, that feels like fancy speak for being half-paid to say I now feel cooler with the latest whatever. I didn’t want that. I also need to make a living. The money is sometimes very tempting, but I wrote myself a note when I first started this storytelling journey. Luckily I remembered to read it. I’d promised myself that I’ll only accept offers from organizations or people with an idea my heart draws me to, and warned myself of “chances” that will make me doubt if it’s worth letting go of and foolishly sticking with said heart.

Only one of the companies that reached out to me happened to have an idea I believed in, and their merchandise was a way to raise money for their non-profit. Those are okay. I’ve nothing against sponsors or paid influencers either. I might take up a good offer myself. I just wanted to see if there was another way that felt more true to me and how I think.

That’s when I found out about @Patreon. I’m pleased to announce I finally calmed my anxiety enough to set my page up at (First link in my website’s menu).

Will this work? No idea. What I do know is I want to give this an honest shot, since it will let me continue my art full-time, keep the lights on, and not let corporations bend the stories I wanted to tell. I might tweak things as I go, and I probably will mess up at some point. Do I know this? Yes. Is this terrifying? Yep. Am I still gonna try? You betcha.

I humbly ask that you only contribute if you find my stories to be heartfelt and genuinely of value. I do try my best to make sure they are 🙂

Thank you for all your love, fam ❤️ Much love 🤗


I saw a meme going around today claiming that adult children always taking permission from your parents before going anywhere is a sign of respect and obedience, and not of “being afraid.” ⁣

Naturally, I disagree. I grew up in an “obedient” Indian family myself, and we’re finally starting to see it doesn’t have to be this way.⁣

Living our own lives our way isn’t about disrespecting their idea of us or sidestepping their values in the name of rebellion. Au contraire, it’s honoring their beautiful parenting that worked so well as to raise healthy and independent human beings who they trust can now think and stand up for themselves. That’s the best compliment you could give a parent imo.⁣

There is a similar Telugu saying: “భక్తితో కూడిన భయం”/”Bhaktitho kudina bhayam” which means “the fear that stems from devotion.” Naturally, I disagree with this too. With true devotion comes courage. If it’s producing fear, that’s trauma. It’s just disguised as obedience, but just as dangerous.⁣

Control breeds obedience but also fear. Love breeds respectand also more love.⁣

What naturally starts as obedience is actually protection, and it’s meant to fall away when the parent of any child (human or not) sees it can fend for itself. It’s nature. Else, birds wouldn’t fly and trees would evolve to go chase after where their seeds went.⁣

Love wins. ❤️⁣