They say I have become a woman, a state-less woman, an invisible woman, a second class citizen, a third class existence, a blob of some sort gliding through public vehicles and busy streets. Thisparticular blob happens to also have two protruding blobs that constantly get grabbed and a gaping hole that is persistently abused. I do not know how I became this blob.

Our land is soaked in the blood of the sons and daughters, fathers and mothers who came with hopes and continued to struggle

When the Great Quake hit Nepal on April 25, no one could have imagined the number of citizen-driven initiatives

To adapt is perhaps the very definition of change. There is something about adaptation, however, that I find unsettling.

Grandmothers’ tales can reveal much about the rich lives lived by women. They contain details that any anthropologist would love. Grandmothers are, indeed, anthropologists in themselves