Akkta Panwar

Artwork by artist Carla Petelski // The roads are as much mine, as they are yours. Yet, you stand and stare from those jagged doors. Like a mute witness to an accidental staging. Your hysterical flags of morality raging. That questionable glare and the questioning look. Now a part of my everyday look-book. Accusing me of profanity What is only but my vanity. Yes; I am curious and I am queer. I am like the scent of a tear. Sour, with a tinge of sweetness. Perhaps, a bit too much for your...

Street art and graffiti have always belonged to everyone. Unlike galleries, these walls don’t ask for tickets, credentials, or prior knowledge. They invite you to simply look. From graffiti tags born of exclusion to murals that give face time to the underrepresented, every wall is a conversation. And in that moment—whether in Bandra, Delhi, or London—the city itself becomes the gallery, and you, the witness.

Grief is lonely, even when shared. Holding space for someone else’s pain while managing your own isn’t about fixing anything—it’s about showing up. You don’t need the right words. You just need presence. It’s okay to say “I’m here” and still need a moment for yourself. Grief doesn’t ask us to be perfect—just honest, kind, and willing to sit in the dark with someone, even as we search for light ourselves.