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Our monthly stories are productions looking to connect people to the magic of stories.

We create supplementary reading lists as a way to give you an insight into the inspirations and thinking behind our monthly stories. These reading lists take you behind the story, revealing the process of its making.

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Rasa → Śāntam: Peace or tranquillity. Deity: Vishnu. Colour: perpetual white. Śṛṅgāraḥ (शृङ्गारः): Romance, Love, attractiveness. Presiding deity: Vishnu. Colour: light green


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ArchetypeCaregiver


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Although loving ourselves is easy to dismiss as self-help book junk material, it's at the root of learning to care for anyone or anything else. Self-love, when explored beyond the self-help fodder, is quite a difficult form of love to cultivate without conflicting with widely accepted ideas of humbleness, selfishness and what it means to be part of society.


It’s a form of love that calls us to be blatantly truthful, which opens the potential for it to become deeply uncomfortable. But, what does, after all, loving ourselves even mean— particularly if we’re aspiring to be unselfish and generous, and to outgrow the ego bubble that we’ve grown accustomed to calling the self? Why is it more natural to some people than others? What happens when self-love manifests in its physical expression conflicting with our deep-seated guilt and shame of selfishness?


The December 2022 monthly story explores some of these ideas through a character and a fictitious place. Together they channel ‘the caregiver’ archetype from Jungian psychology which we use as a storytelling tool. From another storytelling tool we use—the eastern performance art theory of Rasa, this story was constructed with the moods sāntam (tranquillity) and undertones of sringāra (desire).


This reading list will take you through the ideas, incidents, people, films, music and research that inspired us through the making of this story.



December 2022


  • Autosexuality was coined by sex therapist Bernard Apfelbaum in 1989 to refer to people who have trouble being turned on by someone else sexually. But, feeling turned on by yourself is common; some experience it more like an orientation, feeling more aroused by themselves than by others.


  • In the cautionary Classical Greek myth of Narcissus, we are given an insight into the dangers of solipsism and self-obsession. Narcissus, the son of the river god Cephissus and the nymph Liriope, was prophesied to live to old age, only if he never looked at himself. He gained many female admirers, entranced by his beauty, but rejected them all. Narcissus falls in love with his reflection, having chanced it in a river, at which he stared until he wasted away, and died. The word ‘narcissist’ derives from this story.


  • There is an almost immediate and automatic connection assumed between autosexuality and narcissism, for obvious reasons. But, the two are very different behaviours, almost contradicting one another. So, no—autosexuals are not necessarily narcissistic. Autosexuals are more comfortable in their own company, unlike narcissists who crave outside attention & constant validation. Autosexuals can be pleasers & daters who still prefer private personal sexual experiences, which contrasts with narcissism. Auto sexuality starts with self-consolation & going out alone before it becomes a preference.


  • 2013, Archetypes: A Beginner's Guide to Your Inner-net, Caroline Myss, Ph.D. : Archetypes are universal patterns of behaviour that, once discovered, help you better understand yourself and your place in the world. In this book, Myss writes about ten primary feminine archetypes that have emerged in today’s society: the Caregiver, the Artist/Creative, the Fashionista, the Intellectual, the Rebel, the Queen/Executive, the Advocate, the Visionary, the Athlete, and the Spiritual Seeker.


  • 2015, I arranged my own marriage; Arranged marriages and post-colonial feminism. Pande R., Newcastle University: This study of the practice of arranged marriage among women of Indian, Pakistani and Bangladeshi origin resident in Britain is interesting because it examined the traditional approach to nuptials within a very different cultural context which is the UK diaspora. It examines the conflation of arranged marriages with forced marriages and the assumption that arranged marriages are examples of cultural practices that thwart individual agency.


  • When the stunning gold-gilded, brass statue of Tara arrived at the British Museum from Sri Lanka, it was seen as too dangerously erotic and voluptuous for public display; and it could be viewed only by scholars on request. But, Tara is a religious being, from Sri Lanka’s old Buddhist tradition that has no difficulty in combining divinity and sensuality—a concept perhaps alien to many cultures like those in Britain and even to current post-colonial Buddhist culture in Sri Lanka.


  • 2010, Turquoise in the Life of Native Americans, Oksana Y. Danchevskaya Moscow State Pedagogical University, Proceedings of the Eighth Native American Symposium: In many ancient philosophies connecting minerals to self-healing, turquoise holds a particularly revered place. Turquoise is believed by many energy healers as the stone for self-care because of its ability to induce self-forgiveness and self-acceptance when a user achieves resonance with the natural vibration of the mineral. Native Americans’ ideas about the metaphysical properties of the turquoise stone may have played a significant role in developing this reputation around the mineral as an element of self-care.


  • 2019, Objects of Despair: Mirrors. Meghan O’Gieblyn. The Paris Review: No common object has inspired obsession and satisfaction as much dread, confusion, and morbid anxiety as the mirror. Ever since their invention, mirrors have shaped our idea of the self, self-worth and identity to startling degrees.

  • Caribbean poet and playwright Derek Walcott—the 1992 Nobel laureate and a writer of such extraordinary poetic prowess—addresses the beauty of self-love in a poem titled “Love After Love,” found in his Collected Poems: 1948–1984 (public library). On an archival On Being episode titled “Opening to Our Lives,” mindfulness pioneer Jon Kabat-Zinn reads Walcott’s masterpiece—undoubtedly one of the greatest, most soul-stretching poems on self-love ever written.


  • 2021, Abdallah Ghazlan, Tuan Ngo, Ping Tan, Yi Min Xie, Phuong Tran, Matthew Donough. Inspiration from Nature's body armours – A review of biological and bioinspired composites: Mother-of-pearl, or nacre which forms pearls, is key for some shellfish to protect and care for themselves; it’s one of the most fascinating and beautiful protective materials in nature. Mother-of-pearl makes up the inner shell lining of pearl mussels and some other mollusks. Pearls themselves are made of the same material. Scientists have been studying how molluscs use this material for self-care and protection so that we can understand its extraordinary resilience and shielding quality. Some of these findings could help create a blueprint for engineering tough new materials in the laboratory.




Updated: Aug 9, 2023


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Image Angela Roma

Archetype → Caregiver

Rasa → Śāntam: Peace or tranquility. Presiding deity: Vishnu. Colour: perpetual white.

Śṛṅgāraḥ (शृङ्गारः): Romance, Love, attractiveness. Presiding deity: Vishnu. Colour: light green,

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As Jamila stepped onto the cobblestone floors, a reassuring composure welcomed her. It was her favourite villa at the old Dutch fort. Although a sunny April sat outside, it felt as if she had just weathered a storm. Feeling her phone vibrating again, Jamila held down the power button without looking at the screen. Her former fiancé, his family, and her family drove her crazy—collectively and individually. She just had to shut them out.


Jamila drank in the space hungrily while being checked in. It was a spectacular seventeenth-century hospice building turned into a villa. Although she had covetously dined at its restaurant, and religiously liked every single picture that they posted, Jamila had never stayed here before. In fact, she had never stayed anywhere alone before. Her right leg shuddered, twitching unstoppably under the reception desk. The old hospice walls reassured her that everything will be alright. Surrounded by its wizened beauty—holding the centuries within limestone pores, bearing countless stories of broken minds and bones that healed between these walls—Jamila couldn’t help but trust this place.


As soon as left alone in the room, she turned the bathtub tap on and started to undress. Jamila watched her own body emerge from the clothes. She took herself in the mirror; reflection of the familiar, yet unfamiliar woman in the mirror. She pressed her hand on the arm just to make sure. Yesterday, she was soon to be wedded to someone everyone else thought was good for her. Today, she was someone who sold her engagement ring and rented a room alone at her favourite villa. She pressed her bare feet against the old cobblestone bathroom floor. The high window snuck in a streak of southern sun that fell on her hair making it shine black-bronze. 'You're worth it', a gentle thought permeated from the tranquility of the old place.


Then, with an incredible release, Jamila wept.


As the pain receded, Jamila felt comforted by the old walls surrounding her with their limestone warmth. The water fell into the tub in a gentle dialogue of liquid and metal, as if to reassure her.


Finally emptied, Jamila wiped her face and turned the tap off. She lowered herself into the bathtub and felt the warm water surround her with liquid grace. Jamila realized that her insides had been brewing a storm since the arranged marriage was confirmed last year. And, when it finally broke out in lashing rains and thunder yesterday, she called off the engagement and didn’t return home to her parents after work. She came to the villa instead. Coming dangerously close to getting locked into a default life that wasn’t hers, Jamila understood that without making room for what she really wants, there will never be space for happiness. But, now what? Jamila had no answers.


Everything will be alright, all in due time; the old limestone walls assured her.





The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.



Updated: Apr 30, 2023


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Archetype → Utopian

Rasa → Adbhutam (अद्भुतं): Wonder, amazement. Presiding deity: Brahma. Colour: Yellow. Śṛṅgāraḥ (शृङ्गारः): Romance, Love, attractiveness. Presiding deity: Vishnu. Colour: light green,

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The crisp brush of his white cotton shirt on my skin.


The smell of the sea on his skin.


That immortal place where everything is at rest, and even the coconut palms leaned comfortably into the call of gravity.


I’ve always known that inside every person, there is a place. Inside my father, there was a place thick with wild lagoon fear and intermittent bays of total abandonment—a lot like the village that he grew up in. In my mother, there’s a clear, cold, calculating lake. In my grandfather, there were rocky mountains with grey peaks; unchanging, silent, intense, and watchful. Inside me, is an abandoned old city, with worn walls bathed in a warm night that would never birth a dawn. Each place was different from the other as we were from one another; but, they were also similar in how all our places shared some form of torment.


But, inside Sunil, there was a place that I dared to call paradise. It was a sunlit ocean shore shaded with tall palms waving in the breeze. You could perhaps even see a little house between the faraway palm groves where the beach curved in the distance—well beyond earshot. Ahead, it blazed hot gold along the stretch of sand. But, under his palms, it was always cool, and the air was free of the sun’s noon frenzy. When my eyes adjusted to the shade, I could see that the sea was no longer made of glimmering diamonds, but a clear blue. I’ve never seen a place quite like Sunil’s shore. It had no shadow of hunger, hurt or fear that I felt in everyone else. On Sunil's shore, I would always sit down and forget to leave. He was where I liked to fall asleep.


I remember the way he thought about it carefully when I asked what his name meant. ‘Sunil? Hm. Clear, cool, water. Something blue...’, he said after much thought.


I’ve now given up trying to forget the way he talked about the sea; how he said he loved to go fishing and swimming in the mornings because the sea nurses a sense of danger that is natural, gentle and latent—something he liked to be reminded of every day. It was such an honest and subtle flirtation with death that it wasn't morbid in any sense. “Everything began in the sea, and everything will end in it,” he’d say in his placid blue voice. When I asked him how he learnt these things, he looked puzzled for a second. “You just watch and you see, isn’t it?”


I haven’t visited the seaside south for four months now; half out of being unable to bear the pain of remaining just a guest and not part of that dream; half out of the fear of looking Sunil in the eye after the things I’ve imagined through the nights in my apartment. But, the voice in my head telling me to resign from the firm and move to the south never rests now.


Today I went to the beach near my city; just to smell the salt air again. Although it was small, dirty, and full of people, I still found traces of Sunil in the smell, sound and sight of the sea. The salinity cleansed me of greyness—and I could long for him again without breaking.


I remember his weight on me. A clear, clean, blue airborne sensation entered at the tips of my hairs and swam all the way through me, making cool sea moisture on my skin. His memory came to rest in me, as apparent, as distant, and as real as the horizon.





The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.



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