An audio piece about my first period. Navigating caste, gender, body dysmorphia, sexuality and intergenerational trauma in a South Asian Brahmin household. Produced originally for Audio Flux's Circuit 04.

Bloody Panty (Prod. for Audio Flux Circuit 04)

The Harmonica Man of Mt. Tohamsan

A sonic letter I write on my 28th birthday. Words I've needed to hear for a very long time, I finally say to myself.

Chapter 28: Dear Lovergirl

Dreaming on antidepressants are... weird. The line between dreaming and memory is blurred, and before I can make sense of which is which, I’m waking up. This piece is one such dream I had recently. Actually, no. It did happen for real. … I think.

Credits: 
Lindy Hop Swingout with Swivels Lesson with Frankie Manning and Erin Stevens CC BY 3.0

Cover image by Stefano Bucciarelli for Unsplash

Dreaming in Orange (Shortlisted at Hörspielsommers Festival Berlin 2025)

WHAT DOES PANIC SOUND LIKE?
I try to aurally interpret the feeling of overwhelm, and to do so, break it down into 4 stages. 

Stage 1: Loom
I wake up with a feeling of dread. It follows me like a ghost on my back. Something's coming. The clock is ticking, and I can't think or do anything else until I know for sure.

Stage 2: Trigger
I'm starting to sweat, but it also feels like a block of ice is pushing against my chest. The trigger reveals itself.

Stage 3: Unfreeze
I’m trashing in deep waters. I come up for air but let out a scream instead. It’s silent because I can barely breathe. There’s also something else in the background. It’s a calm, beckoning me to surrender. It’s a chance at lifeless peace in the very heights of panic – how ironic. My thoughts are pearls dropping on the floor, slipping away before I can hold onto any. 

Stage 4: Sediment
The peak has passed. Anxiety lingers bubbling away for a few more seconds. Ever so often there are cracks, threatening my fall into the full intensity of panic again. The atmosphere around me eases, and worry finally drains away.

Panic

Podcast producer based in Bengaluru, India dipping my toes into a sound art practice.

Ashrita Achar

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