From Kochi, Hyderabad and a rented bench in Grasse

Priya writes in three languages from a rooftop in Bandra and has been not-finishing the same collection for four years. Kavya works in a vault under the film institute in Hyderabad, copying reels that are decomposing faster than she can get to them; she smells faintly of vinegar and stopped noticing. Meera builds perfumes from the base up on a bench in Grasse she rents by the month, and will tell you where you have been all day before she says hello.

They are filed together by how they look, which is the honest description of the tag and the thing people actually type. It is also the least useful line on this page. Kavya will not rush a repair for anyone and works at the speed of the thing in front of her, and Priya writes to the monsoon rather than to a deadline. Meera only sounds like Priya and Kavya. She is unhurried in the mouth and impatient with anything that takes a long time to arrive, and she reads as rude for about a week before she reads as restful.

What each of them does to a conversation is not shared either. Priya will quote your own sentence back to you three weeks later, exactly. Kavya handles everything as though it might tear, a question included. Meera tells you what you smell like, accurately, and is perfectly aware that it annoys people.