by Mansi Mehra

I grew up in India travelling my entire life, which made me fall in love with meeting new people, learning about different cultures, and exploring foreign lands.

However, my last relationship was with a man who preferred to stay in one place. I wanted to go out; he wanted to stay in. I liked to run wild; he liked to stand still. My travel bug made him feel pressured and pushed. I thought about dropping my wanderlust, letting go of those dreams to settle down and build a family with him. But I knew I couldn’t — and as a result, another relationship ended.

I was disheartened and confused. I wondered if I would ever find someone to be my travel partner-in-crime. I wondered if it was a choice between finding a mate and following my dreams of criss-crossing and hop-scotching the world.

But I couldn’t let go of my travel bug. I wanted to stand up on my own two feet and stop believing that my happiness depended on someone else. My gut told me to pack my bags, take my car keys, gather the maps, and go for it. I planned to cruise across four states in America — California, Nevada, Utah, and Arizona — on an adventure in the West. I would drive solo while living out of my car and see where all this led me. I asked my heart, was I willing to just go for it alone? The answer was a resounding “Yes!”

I laid a sleeping bag and pillow in the backseat. I packed daily essentials, a jug of water, and half the clothes I would need in order to travel light. I was off!

The dynamics of a solo trip are different. With no one to depend on but myself, I found that I felt more freedom than ever before. All of my interactions were with people I had never met and perhaps would never see again. It was so empowering to see that I could find common ground with strangers and that I could make connections with those who grew up across the world from where I did.

From brushing my teeth on the road to nearly running out of gas in the desert, the trip pushed me beyond my comfort zone. When I drove from Zion National Park to Cedar City, it was pitch dark and the roads were slippery with ice. There were no streetlights, houses, or gas stations to stop for a rest. I wished, not for the first time, that I could turn back and climb into my bed. But I kept driving, inching along in the black night at 15 MPH, until I saw the lights of civilization ahead.

I entered pockets of road without cell phone reception, which was a blessing in disguise. I was able to focus on the present and truly take in the sights, sounds, and smells of each place I visited. I often didn’t even have radio, so I had nothing to distract me from my own mind. Sometimes it is okay to not stay on top of the latest hit song or breaking news — listening to my own thoughts was the most refreshing thing I could do to reconnect with myself.

The one rule was to simply post one picture on Facebook of the locations I reached. This helped my family to know my general whereabouts and to feel assured of my well-being. An outpouring of support and excitement from my friends flooded my profile.

“Amazing!!! You’re going to inspire a lot of women that a woman can do anything if she puts her mind to it. Love you chica! Stay safe! Happy Holidays!”

I was far away from all of them, and yet I felt closer to them than I ever had. I heard their voices cheering me on as I drove.

When I reached the end of my 2121 mile trip, it was with a renewed understanding of who I am, what my strengths are, and my place in the world. I felt as if I could do anything. Today, I see more women planning solo trips and being brave enough to hit the road alone. In the end, I found exactly what I was looking for: I was my own travel partner-in-crime.

Mansi Mehra is an Indian who came to US in 2009. She currently works as a Project Manager in Los Angeles. She loves to travel (evident from the article), dance (Indian classical, folk and loves free style as well), trying new cuisines and listening to music. She loves to volunteer for film festivals, making movies and working on short films. www.mansimehra.com 

Original Post.

By Brown Girl Magazine

Brown Girl Magazine was created by and for South Asian womxn who believe in the power of storytelling as a … Read more ›

Photo by Simple Line via Shutterstock.com

“Confessions to a Moonless Sky” is a meditation on the new moon and guilt. I wrote it when I was living in Dallas and was driving back from a dusk prayer. The new moon terrified me on that drive. I was diseased by the knowledge that my partner, at the time, had seen the worst parts of me. There’s immense shame in this piece—it seized my self-image. If the moon could become brand new, then I could start over.

I often ponder on the moon’s reflective nature and pairs of eyes. I’m hyper-fixated on how I am seen by others. Unfortunately, the brilliance of seeing your reflection in another person leads to negativity. After all, those who are too keen on their own reflection are the same people who suffer from it. It is possible to use shame to fuel one’s retribution and personal growth, without becoming consumed by it.

We can look to Shah Rukh Khan succumbing to alcoholism in his own sorrow and then later imbibing his sadness in Chandramukhi. “Confessions to a Moonless Sky” is a lesson for us: Don’t be Shah Rukh Khan in Devdas, instead embody pre-incarnation Shah Rukh Khan in Om Shanti Om!

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Confessions to a Moonless Sky

Sometimes when the moon abandons the sky, I wonder if I drove her away.

If she comes back, will she be the same? How I wish she would come back new, truly new! That way she’d have no memory of the sin I’ve confessed to her. You noxious insect. Sin-loving, ego-imbibing pest. You are no monster, for at least a monster has ideology, it sins with purpose. You sin just to chase ignominy.

But the moon won’t say that, she never does. She’ll just leave the sky and return days later, slowly. And I’ll wonder if she’s new, perhaps she won’t remember my past confessions. What does it matter? Were the moon replaced with one from a different god, I’d drive her away, too.

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By Umrao Shaan

Umrao Shaan is a short storyist, poet, and ghazals singer. You can find his songs on his Instagram. His other … Read more ›

Photo Courtesy of Varsha Panikar

“After so Long” is a poetry film created for Simha’s EP, which is streaming on Spotify, Apple Music and Amazon Music. The poem was collaboratively written by Simha, a U.S. native, and Jae, who is based in India, during the 2020 lockdown. “After so Long” was recited by Simha and their parents. In 2022, I directed and produced the film through my studio, Star Hopper. “After so Long” premiered on Nowness Asia in March 2022.

By Varsha Panikar

Varsha Panikar (they/he) is a filmmaker, writer and multi-disciplinary artist from India. They are the co-founder of Star Hopper, a … Read more ›

Photo by kittirat roekburi via Shutterstock.com

Social media has stretched a number of news headlines:

“Social media rots kids’ brains.”

“Social media is polarizing.”

Yet those most affected by social media ideals are the teenage users. Apps like Instagram and TikTok perpetuate an image of perfection that is captured in pictures and 30-second videos. As a result, many young women chase this expectation endlessly. “Her” personifies this perfection in an unattainable figure the narrator has always wished to be. These ideals deteriorate mental health, create body dysmorphia, promote a lack of self-esteem, and much more. Even so, social media is plagued by filters and editing—much of what we hope to achieve isn’t even real. Therefore, young women, much like the narrator of “Her,” strive for a reality that doesn’t even exist.

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Her

When she walked into my life
Her smile took up two pages of description
In a YA novel.
My arms could wrap around her waist twice
If she ever let anyone get that close
Her hair whipped winds with effortless beach waves
And a hint of natural coconut
Clothing brands were created around her
“One Size Fits All” one size to fit the girl who has it all
With comments swarning in hourglasses
But when sharp teeth nip at her collar,
She could bite back biting back
And simply smirked with juicy apple lips
Red hearts and sympathy masking condescension
“My body doesn’t take away from the beauty of yours”
“We are all equal, we are all beautiful”
Beauty
A sword she wields expertly
Snipping, changing,
Aphrodite in consistent perfection
Cutting remarks with sickly sweet syrup
And an innocent, lethal wink
When she walked into my life
She led my life.
My wardrobe winter trees
Barren, chopped in half
Unsuited for the holidays
Mirrors were refracted under in my gaze
Misaligned glass was the only explanation
For unsymmetrical features
And broken hands
Still I taped them fixed
Over and over
Poking, prodding
Hoping to mold stomach fat like wet clay
Defy gravity,
Move it upward
To chest
Instead of sagging beneath a belt on the last hole
In the spring
She would stir me awake at 2 AM
“You need to be me”
Lies spilled from her tongue but
Solidified, crystallized
Fabrication spelled dichotomy
And I drifted farther out to sea
When she walked out of my life,
I was drowning.
Reliance had me capsized
Others witnessed
Furrowed brows and glances away
Like spectators of a shark attack
They can watch but the damage is done
They clung to my mangled pieces
Gravestones spelled
“Stressed”
“Depressed”
But I was mourning too
Today I looked back at my mirror
But glass turned into prism
Broken pieces rainbow
Colors coating clothes
She didn’t pick
Aphrodite
Perception changing
She wasn’t perfect
Just lost at sea

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By Kashvi Ramani

Kashvi Ramani is a writer, actress, songwriter, and singer from Northern Virginia. She has been writing songs, poetry, scripts, and … Read more ›