Tanya Mehta

1 day ago | medium.com | Tanya Mehta

And I didn’t expect it to leave me this quiet. I didn’t pick it up out of love. I picked it up out of guilt. There it was — Godan by Munshi Premchand — sitting on my bookshelf like an unkept promise. I’d grown up hearing its name whispered with reverence: the novel that captured the soul of India. A book that every serious reader should read. But let’s be honest — most of us don’t. We tell ourselves we will… someday. I told myself the same lie for years. Too busy. Too heavy. Too rural. Too slow.

2 days ago | medium.com | Tanya Mehta

They didn’t arrive with hype — but they stayed with me. A few years ago, I picked up a novel with no expectations. No fancy cover. No glowing Instagram hype. Just a quiet little book I found tucked between two bestsellers at a secondhand bookstore. I finished it in two days. And when I closed the last page, I sat in silence for a while — because something in me had shifted. Not in a loud, dramatic way. But like someone had adjusted the lighting inside my mind. Everything looked a little different.

2 days ago | medium.com | Tanya Mehta

Rethinking our relationship with rest and repairLet me start with a confession: I used to treat sleep like an inconvenience. It was the thing I delayed, negotiated with, and sacrificed to get one more thing done. I told myself I’d sleep properly once the shift was over, once I replied to those two pending messages. But “once” never came. I was always choosing productivity over peace — and calling it ambition. As someone who has trained in medicine, I knew how essential sleep was.

3 days ago | thevoiceoffashion.com | Anannya Sarkar |Shweta Shiware |Ananya Verma |Tanya Mehta

Our clothing is read by others–sometimes also misread–and can carry unspoken allegiances, aspirations and agency. For women in particular, especially in public spaces, what they wear is often policed, dissected or politicised. The idea that clothing should remain neutral is a privileged myth.

4 days ago | medium.com | Tanya Mehta

Not through perfection — but through presence, boundaries, and deep care. I used to think love was something you earned — through achievement, sacrifice, or becoming the most likable version of yourself. I tried to be that version for years. The “yes-sayer.” The always-available friend. The one who never took up too much space. But somewhere along the way, I started feeling hollow. Not dramatic heartbreak-hollow. Just quietly… disconnected from myself.