takes my breath away...

The flowers rose steadily… rising high… riding the wind in her ascend towards the moon… as they reached higher, they began their silent song… serenading the wind… urging him to take them elsewhere… the scent of their song so loud and powerful that the wind began to twirl and swirl… stirred on by the light of the stars…the white flowers mixed into the green and dropped into the pool of blue… causing ripples in the sky that made the stars quiver and waver…the fireflies cast shadows over the flowers as they whirled by… adding a gentle hum to the music of the nocturnal orchestra… the leaves began their applause… and the flowers shed their petals in the grand finale that they had escalated to… their drop shaped petals floated about gently… and covered the sky till it had no choice but to wake up from its slumber…

hard to forget...

She sat cross legged on the sofa behind the table of the little coffee shop… wearing a brightly coloured shirt and even brighter dupatta over jeans… her hair streaming down the sides of her face…all that was visible was the crimson bindi…and the corners of her eyelids… deeply engrossed in a book… bangles tinkling as she moved each page… her face changing expressions… from a frown to a smile to a laugh in between sips of what appeared to be hot chocolate… against the finger painted purple and blue walls... under the amber and orange coloured lantern… surrounded by old furniture… bright cushions.. beaded curtains…she looked at ease … kind of like she belonged…her eyes looked up at him once… kohl lined… defiant… yet gentle enough to let a story affect them acutely… her book was even more fascinating… she seemed to be writing on post its and sticking them into her book…from the corners of the page, there was a burst of yellow, jumping out of the book…
He smiled cos he knew exactly what she wrote on them… he smiled cos you couldn’t help but look at her frown and try to ease that away… he tried to focus on his book…
He felt her look at him and he grew incredibly conscious… the page was now pretty much just rows of punctuated words with no meaning… he peeped out and caught her… smiled loudly…
What? Her eyes asked…
Remember how we got thrown out of Vaidya’s class and you were petrified…
She laughed back… I was not…
Remember how you sang in front of class and then cried…
She looked at him and then looked away… I’d rather forget…
Remember how we sat on the stairs… you on the lower one and me above… and talked about everything in the world…
Smiles
Remember that day in the university grounds and the look on your face when I showed you my tree…
She closed her eyes and could see it…

He looked into his book and thought… I worry that you’ll forget…
She wrote onto one of her post its… i rarely forget…

girl with franjipani flowers and parrots...

Art factory...53 B Road, New Delhi...

that's what ma's home was converted into... 7.5 days of art and only art is what i experienced... driven by ma's passion for my crazy scribbles and doodles and dabbles... motivated to give my parents the best anniversary present that i could muster up... then finding that my aunts wanted the same paintings for their home as well... its been music... the little doggie... woollens...cups of ma's chai... home food... friends... late nights painting... long drives in between... a portion of gol gappas for every painting completed... paints... messed up hands... sketching non stop on every surface visible... being commissioned to paint a huge wall in a very prominent personality's home and someone i'm very fond of...
oh its been a fabulous time off... i've painted more in 7 days than i did for the entire chirstmas exhibition... its been satisfying... and energising...

You build the resolve to never let anyone get that one inch ‘too’ close… you wall paper the walls that hold you safe… you disguise the barbwire with colourful ribbons… you’re sure that it can never happen again… you’re just so much smarter… so much more capable of being the fly that did not fly into the web…
And then the smallest gesture gets you… and you could slap yourself hard cos you can’t tell those who usually do the slapping for you… its that smile that flashes at you even when you’re singing off key to a song on the radio… that hand that touches your face when you say something silly… it’s the look that for no particular reason makes your heart jump… its that extra mile that is driven to see you safe… safe!!
It’s the small gestures that you can’t protect yourself from… they creep in through the cracks of your existence… they come in like the rain… grains of sand that your feet brought in from a sunny day…they’re just what you need but don't want… peeling the corners of the wall paper…
And you let them… you wrap the barb wire tighter with the ribbon…

Birth….

Birth… been thinking about it a lot… cause my friend is gonna have a baby today… cos everywhere I look I see life beginning… see the two pups that live outside my house… turn on the telly to find ‘bringing home baby’ on discovery… watching traumatized baby elephants on national geographic…getting an update about my niece who I miss terribly horribly… its been babies all along this weekend…
but sadly each of the instances has death playing as much as a part as birth… whether its about past losses…or the fear of the future… all seep into the joy of the moment… funny how its difficult to isolate one emotion from many others… its always a package is it not?

when are you really born… is it when you physically enter the world…? Is it when you realize why you are here? Is it in death that you actually are born?
Don’t know…