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Nats and Brain Rot

“Hmmm… too toxic, bruh… couldn’t breathe… I needed to get out of there…. needed a break,” she said not looking up, as she scrolled up and down, buried in her blue screen.

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Illustration/Uday Mohite

Illustration/Uday Mohite

Rahul Da CunhaNatasha aka Nats, my 20-year-old neighbour, dawdled over to my house, she seemed laid back, languorous and a bit lazy, dressed in a brown blouse and skirt, unlike her customary black T-shirt and blue jeans.

“Hello Nats, what’s up?” I said.

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