A walk down the memory lane

I had walked those paths a thousand times. So what was it that felt different today? Today somehow it felt like i have completed a full circle, small yet, a full circle. As i climbed on the pavement, a brush of air greeted me. Yes, it recognised me. Nobody asked my identity, as if i really belonged there. I closed my eyes and breathed in the air that felt like home.

As I walked on, washed in the dull yellow street light, i remembered all those evenings when it did not feel so dull somehow, coz back then there were so many faces that used to greet me, knew me, today i was alone. I saw the hospital’s clumsy dark emergency entry and i could almost see in 3D, us three, sitting there. Those gossips and bitching. I had not known before, that guys are great at bitching too. Those giggles and comments on whoever would pass by... and then i saw myself passing by, wondering what would have i commented on myself! Shift to another folder in my memory, and i saw myself sitting with him, that once, when i had met him for the first time. Happy memories disappeared as i came back to today and walked ahead. Yes i have come a long way in these 5 years and have really grown up to be a different person. Those happy memories did not bring pain and tears as i had expected but a smile of content that those so many moments I had lived, are still with me.

As i walked ahead and reached the circle, the stairs stared at me. Almost complaining- “look you have deserted me!!” The street light was mellowed by the huge tree that I don’t remember from ‘my days’. It did not recognize me either. It questioned my identity. Standing near the stairs, I looked around almost expecting the guard and his whistle but he was no where to be found. The place looked really dull today but I could see all of us, our chatter, our panchayati, gal problems, guys problem.. and those curses, some learnt some invented.

I moved on, saw those bikes… group of guys, chatting, fagging and I suddenly felt so out of place. Just then I heard myself “abe chai kaun kaun pi raha hai?koi ja k order karoge?” and the smile was back on my face. That 2Rs tea around that circle, those whistle, just when the gates were about to be closed, meant more than sipping cappuccino at CCD. I walked inside the Food court and looked in front, the Veg vendor was closed. You don’t need to fight for chairs in the food court anymore? Not even inside? Half of the tube lights were off and the silence was unnerving.

Came back to the Stairs…apna adda, out marked space!!! Fighting with self, I sat down eventually. Yes I could feel all of you around me. Ankita smiling at me, Neha holding my hand, Raga hugged me, Ekta was concerned, Mishu said “ patient to hum the na?”, Shrawni’s mad laugh, Geetika’s electrifying smile, Chetan and his stupid dance, Arup was learning how to be Ross, TD and his “chhor na”, Richu’s shahi lacknawi hindi, Jigyasa and her naughty stare, Samir ka “kaisa laga?”, Nikhil “Bing”, Sanjeet and his Dhoni stories, Mrinal scared of walking behind galz when I whistled and they thought its him, Golu-my all time partner for black current softy… Debo and Shweta upgrading my “Basics”, That was me…that was Ramaiah.

I know I would never ever see you all together again. But there in that moment I had all of you with me…Ramaiah is nothing without you all. Miss you all and would give anything to see us together again…One day.

Dated: 29th Nov 2010.

The Bubble Theory

Self assessments::Random thoughts!!!

Which are not so random. It’s a turmoil, an ongoing discussion in my mind. I wonder what it feels like to be Phoebe and have people talking in her head because I am simply exhausted listening to my voice, my own flood of thoughts.

Being Aries can be curse at times when you let someone enter your world. OK!! lets not generalize a sun sign and I should speak for myself.

I had read long back in Linda Goodman’s book that Aries live in their own world. They are just happy and always occupied with their own little things. Obsessed with their hair and always find something so interesting in their nails that the rest of world, standing right in front of their eyes just vanishes.

I feel, I live in a bubble and I am very happy and eager to meet people only until, they don’t try to burst my bubble. It’s very rare that I let anyone enter my bubble but since the bubble I live in is so transparent people don’t really realize that there is anything keeping me shielded. So, those I interact with everyday just assume that what they see is real me. But the fact is even I don’t know the real me and sometimes I wonder who are these people who are so sure of what they are and how they feel. Most of the times I really don’t know what I feel!! If I am sad I am sad and I don’t know why something so silly has affected me. When I am happy there is this music in my bubble and I am just amused. People looking from outside find it funny that I am happy for no reason at all but what they don’t know is that I have another world inside that bubble that they can’t see. A world of my own, world of my dreams, my thoughts, my ideas and mostly the memories I cherish.

My problem starts when I let someone enter the bubble and I don’t know what to do with him/her. It’s even worse if that person has no idea that he has entered my bubble. Its conflicting cause being in the same bubble I want to share everything, after all I am suppose to be a great host. But since he is unaware of the whole bubble thing he just doesn't see my world. Its disappointing and again taking from Linda Goodman, being an Aries, I do behave like a small child… who has been devoid of attention. So I do everything in my hand to gain that attentionback. I do some funny things, some smart things, things to show that hey I am growing up can’t you see that? If all of this doesn’t work then I feel angry and then even if that is not noticed… I cry. Then again, remember I am a baby and I am not suppose to cry for long coz just like a baby I would burn my hands again and again until I grow up and realize that touching the flame does no good.

So how long am I going to cry to get the attention? Until I get what I want or simply start ignoring him/her and look around searching for someone i can count on. Ignoring me is the last thing i expect from anyone. Just acknowledge my presence and i am game for almost anything. But there is this twist in the tale, its very rare that i would come and tell you that you are one of the few lucky ones, who is part of my bubble. you just have to keep looking for the sign i drop here and there. Trust me! i expect you to notice those signs.

All my life I had a silent companion at the edge of my bubble. I don’t know if he is inside but I know for sure he is around. He is there listening to my cribbing, making sure that I know of my short comings, sometimes proud of my little sweet achievements and sometimes just smiling knowingly at my attention seeking tantrums. Trying his best that I do not let undeserving people enter into my bubble and at times even trying to protect my bubble from unwelcoming intruders. My kid brother who stands beside me all grown up, guides me like an elder brother and is a friend I see in none else.

PS:: I had written this piece about a month back when my friends were dissecting me right in front of me and i was pushed to analyse myself. Even some 'strangers' were reporting my quirky traits. They claim to know me better than i know myself so i thought lets give it a try to find what really makes me Me!! After writing this i buzzed my bro with "can i miss you?' and he replied ":P yes you can but then it depends why?"

Its an honest analysis.Just another fact that i really am a bit self obsessed...who else analyses herself just for fun!!!

for you माँ..

जाड़े की सर्दी, धूप सुनहरी,

ठन्डे हाथ से हमें उठाना..

कच्ची नींद अचानक टूटती

तुम्हारा जोर से छीकना..

कपडे बिखरे यहाँ वहाँ,

उनको रोज समेटना...

खुली किताबें, आँखें सोयीं,

तीन कप चाय फिर बनाना...

टेढ़ी मुस्कान, नाक पे चश्मा,

घंटो बचपन की गप्पें लड़ाना...

यहीं रखा था-कहाँ गया फिर?

हर दिन कुछ ढूंढ़ना...

गर्म तवे पे जल्दी-जल्दी,

बिन चिमटे, रोटी सेंकना...

छुट्टियों के दिन अलसाए,

दिन भर लूडो खेलना...

वो हँसना, वो रोना,

बिन बात यू हीं,

मुझ से महीनो रूठना..

जाने कयू अब याद आता है,

माँ तुम्हारा डांटना!!!

A lot could have happened over coffee

It has been some years

long enough..

Faded memories

still strong enough...

Tears, some shedded

some held back,

Steaming cup of coffee

'n I was dressed in Black

Untouched crumbles

of chocolate truffle,

lying restlessly

on my table..

Room full of people

and two friends of mine,

trying desperately

to read my mind..

Some silly song

in background,

some happy chatter

some nervous sound...

but silent thoughts

heart sored,

all mobiles

on silent mode...

Suddenly,

everything stood still

ran down my spine,

unknown,

yet, familier chill...

As i looked at him

across the glass wall,

one look at him,

and was in a free fall...

he cut down his engine

while parking his bike.

white tees, rugged jeans,

ruffled hair, and

helmet mellowed spikes...

in a split of second,

that felt like eternity,

when our gaze locked,

in a pull of his garvity...

heart beats in my throat,

a buzz in my head,

sparking felings

that were so dead...

those lazy memories

still makes me sway,

as he walked to the counter

and took his take-away...

sipping his coffee

in the summer air..

i was across the street,

guess, he was aware...

silver chain in his hand,

carelessly tilted cup..

In my memory, his image

deeply sketched up.

didn't see the number plate

donno know his name

But never did i feel again

that stupid flame..

he came flying in

and vanished racing by..

i wish we would bump

into each other again,

my CCD guy..

as there were no Hi

and no good byes

we would surely meet again

My CCD guy!!

p.s:: Most of my friends know this incident. It was 1st of August 2005 evening around 7:30.. at newly opened BEL Road CCD. Today i don't even remember his face, and i wonder if i have already crossed him a several times and did not even recognise him. It was that moment, that eye contact that i still remember... A beautiful moment from an interesting chapter of my life!!!

रातें

निशब्द बातें,

धुंधली यादें,

बोझिल नींद,

बचपन की चहक में

भूली बिसरी रातें ..

पानी की टिप-टिप,

घड़ी की टिक-टिक,

चिल्लाता सन्नाटा,

कुछ बनने की चाह में

जगती रातें...

खुशबू सोंधी- सोंधी,

बारिश हल्की- हल्की,

गर्म सांसें, ख्वाब पलछिन,

प्यार की सरगोशी

चुटकी में गुजरती रातें...

कचौटता बिस्तर,

टांडे पांव, ठंडी नाक,

नींद भरी आँखें,

जिदगी की ढलान पर,

लम्बी सर्द रातें...

अधखुली आँखों में

संजोये कुछ ख्वाब

रात की स्याही

और जिंदगी की किताब

धुंधला सा एक सच

पलकों के किनारे

दो बूँद पानी की

और दिल की गिरहें

ठहरी सी जिंदगी

जाने किस मोड़ पर

क्यूँ यादें भी नहीं बाक़ी

अब जहन की छोर पर

गुमसुम सी जिंदगी से

सवाल जाने कितने

टूटे भी नही टूटकर

कैसे थे वो सपने

इस रात के परे

नए सुबह की दस्तक

खुली आँखों से सपने

देखना बाक़ी है अब तक

Cheers

I started this painting when I was ‘angry’ with Raga and Ekta for the stupidest reason possible-That they did not allow me to walk to our neighborhood S-mart. I wonder if there has been any such occasion in last 7 years that they have known me, when I have been angry. Upset.. yes many times, but I hardly remember myself being angry. So they were making every effort to make amends and I was trying hard to stop myself from bursting into all giggles.

Little did we know that the very next day earth will change its course of rotation…yet again for me!! I was painting a garden as I desperately wanted a lot of colours, brightness and Beautiful bright flowers!! I have always felt that colurs have a therapeutic effect. Whenever I am down, I paint and if you watch closely, every painting can actually tell very clearly the mood I had then.

This painting is a desperate effort to stay cheerful in the time when nothing seemed to be going right.

Dedicated to us:

To Raga,

For growing up to be a brave girl who took decisions in a matter of life and death, from the girl who once could not even decide what she wanted to eat or what to wear the next day. For handling all those unnecessary phone calls with calmness, which did nothing to console her but just added to the trauma. For her sleepless nights without any complaints. For her patience…a virtue I had never seen before. Above all, for her every effort to make my life a little easier.

To Ekta:

For being there silently, for me and Raga and almost anyone who would ask for. For smiling always if I tease her (I accept I do that a lot). For her unusual way of being supportive (I would always remember her quest for DDLJ CD, just for me). For her endless effort to help me choose fun for myself, rather than sacrificing everything to see ‘someone’ happy. Above all for knowing it for a fact that I am human too with my own flaws.

To Me:

For not breaking down when my world was falling apart.

Cheers to us for finding some colours in a time of sorrow…to our 7 years of togetherness of fun, laughter, fights and Growing Up!!!

Ambition

June 2010... few hours visit to Kolkata on the way back to Bangalore.

It was there proudly put up on a wall by a proud father for his equally so proud son.

This painting was done on a big paper, framed nicely and was showcased in a huge drawing room. But if you ask me it’s just a waste of talent. I could see very well that the kid (my nephew) does have a talent if he has created this on his own. I doubt that it was entirely his art as the proud father told me later that he had a tutor (best in the town) for their children to teach them art. But nevertheless, it was the kid’s hard work and was surely showing on his beaming face, when I told him that the painting is just beautiful.

When I say waste, I may sound rude and may be a bit rebellious… but as a kid I have been through the same and I know so many others, who could not agree more. I was never encouraged to take painting or for that matter any form of art, seriously. It was always a part of my personality but just as a hobby. I do not know and so I don’t speak for my nephew, but I had an undying craving to be creative. So much that I used to help my brother in his craft work. I remember that I used to convert his assignement's B/W Xeroxed pics into colour pics with my 'magic' crayons and it used to feel like an achievement.

When I saw that even though the painting is boastingly put up, the parents actually tried to sideline it…may be to avoid a seed of false hope. All I could hear them talking was about engineering entrance, kid’s coaching classes and even though the kid has practically no time to even look at his watch, his father is not really happy about his preparation. There is so much pressure on kids today to become something in life that unknowingly children get manipulated to think in those lines only. I have nothing against the education, but with the system that provokes an ambition that may not have been mine to achieve in the first place.

Today when people tell me that I should have taken my hobby more seriously, all I remember is of Chennari aunty. She had come to visit us during my med-prep days and had told my mum that why do I need to do medical when I can create magic on paper. I don’t know if I can but that is what I want to do. Today I work just to support myself and I paint because I know that colours do have a story to tell.

If I were that painting I would have been…well really sad!!

I have tried to recreate the image from my memory as a dedication to the beautiful painting I saw and the artist I could not see. May one day the people around that painting, would see the real moments and story behind the painting too.

p.s. I have realized that Canvas is not meant for water colour and am really missing the flow of colours on a sheet of paper.

The Camel Story

Ok so here we go again…been long that i have written anything at all…

So what’s the story behind this one? Flashback time…

Its not actually an original painting…the original was long back when I was in school, probably in 8^th I guess and I tried to paint the same picture in water colour…wasn’t a bad idea actually but somehow it did not work out. Those days we used to buy chart sheets for our school projects and cut into quarters and make a greetings card. I used to make cards for everyone…and if they still have them, may be one day I can ask them to return it back so that I have a nice collection of my childhood memories.

So half sheet of chart paper, a calendar in my hands and I was looking forward to see the sheet of paper up on a wall.

Looking at the image on the calendar, I thought its simple coz I don’t need to make the face of a man…Even today I really am terrible with man’s face…I can go on and on about a women’s face…its cut, flow, beauty…but I really am terrible at sketching men faces. So initially I thought this was a nice image to copy as I don’t have to work on a face…sounds simple…but there is just one problem with water colour…a small mistake and its all gone.

So I was really precise about the right flow and texture of the sky. In my sketch the Camel was almost perfect the man was almost perfect…but in colour, the sky was over soon and then was the trouble…the dark silhouette…the sky was dry and I dipped the brush in black…

Well almost there, was the thought in my head…and then with a shaky stroke I made the first mistake…and camel’s legs came a lot closer than they were suppose to be…ok so my camel bichara had polio..but then there was no stopping… I tried to do something to save my camel but there was no rescue… and then I was just not happy with the transparency I wanted in the man’s dhoti…so my man was fat ghaghra-pant clad male at the end of the day.

Painting was finished but I wasn’t happy and I know my mum could judge that too as it never got a chance to be pasted on a thermocol sheet and put up on a wall.

But somehow all theses years the image was stuck in my head for the very simple reason that it was easily achievable and I still could not do it. When I started Oil painting couple of months back I thought why not this…I was surfing images on net and it just flashed on my face. I know it actually isn’t something to do with oil…its way too simple and I really don’t like that I cant get a flow in colours….when yellow and red just blend in itself to become that glow of orange!!!

Not a great painting but it’s a piece of my memory and so here it is…out in open so that I can share a small part of my childhood.

Book Fair

Story to nahi but yaadein hain kayi….

This painting is very old…almost 9 years I guess

Almost a decade ago…I was still in school. I was staying with my parents and my brother in the most beautiful town in the world, Jamshedpur. Place where I grew up, place where I have spent my teen age…place I call home.

I loved the city from the day I set my foot for the first time. Well anyone living in Patna would feel the same way. I loved the city for how organized it was its greenery, parks and for the events like Book Fair.

Book Fair used to be held and is still being held in every winter Nov-Dec at Tagore Society. It was the mausam and the people that made it an experience. Every year I used to save money to buy a novel and papa was more than happy to buy painting and sketching books, so I never needed to save money for that.

I used to love the book fair as we could get away with one day’s evening study. My brother and I, both loved eating there (actually we both just love eating…be it anywhere), we loved choosing from different stalls of chowmein, Pav Bhaji and egg roll. But our favorite was the espresso coffee…for the very simple reason that it was otherwise available only at shaadies.

I really don’t know how to put in worlds, the feeling of being in book fair.

Melodious tune in the air, chill air and funti without sweater, papa just content in walking with us and making payment (I wonder if he ever bought any book for himself), mumma busy in looking at almost every hindi sahitya ki kitab and buying many at the end, and myself looking at so many books that I wanted to buy but never did. Well, I always wanted to buy Mills and Boon’s (have already mentioned I was in my teens)…but no one would agree to it.

This painting is a true copy of one of the paintings from the book, papa bought me. This was the first time my jhopra’s were so colorful…first time I had left paper untouched in places for the effect of light. I have learnt a lot while copying this painting. The Best part about this painting is the proud face of my parents when they would show this to their friends who would visit our home.

Reflection

May 2004… Long summer holidays and we decided to visit Delhi. Delhi was beautiful. Hot but Beautiful. Now when I try to recall that trip, first few things that come across my mind are Chhoti masi’s welcome hug, pic of mine admiring Rashtrapti Bhawan, in my new Red Ghaghra Skirt- Gifted by Dee…that me and my brother had played “Chiriya urdh” game on the train to Delhi and all the fellow passengers’ staring at our madness.

And I remember a painting on the wall of Chhote mama’s drawing Room.

Again during my On-job training 2005 and Dee’s wedding 2008, I had all the time to admire the painting…it was a painting of a European home (I guess) and its shadow in water.

What I really liked about the painting was how the reflection in water was portrayed so superbly in vivid colors. In natural paintings, closer to reality this kind of depiction is unreal….but just the splash of all green colours and the castle kind of home in between was so inspiring that if I had time then I would have copied it then and there.

Last year when I thought of painting something in portrait page set up, I thought of this painting. To add to the vividness of colours I thought of painting all the houses in different colours. This painting is just inspired and It is nowhere close to the original. May be next time when I visit Delhi I would carry my colours and canvas just to capture that magic on my paper.

This painting however May be an Indianised Version of my European Dream with my trademark Jhopras.

Papa's pen and my Painting

There is no story behind this sketch….

However, it does remind me of my last vacation…. Jan-Feb 2006 during my MSc…when I started this sketch…I was home...relaxed and lots of time to kill. One evening, I was practicing my signature and I started this sketch with my papa’s signature pen…a gel pen…

Two houses on top right, then two on left bottom…and it was my time to head back to B’lore…I tried looking for the same pen…couldn’t’ find it.

Few days back… I was on a spree to complete all my paintings…and thanks to my roomy (who brought me the pen)….

the sketch is complete…

Honestly, there is a huge mistake in this sketch. The distance-size factor is not proportional. The houses on the other side of the river are supposed to be much smaller. But I had started my painting from top right of the page and with a gel pen…so there is no scope for error correction…it was fun though to give depth and shadow effect with a gel pen…

With pencil, one can manipulate the darkness of the strokes with pressure and can always erase it if anything goes wrong…but with a pen...

I love this picture in spite of the mistake…and would try something again with the pen ….soon!!!

Sailing in the Sky

When I saw this photo in a newspaper…promoting some tourism, I thought its Heaven and… Photoshop. It was almost like the boat was sailing in the sky and it was so unreal.

Yet, I loved every pixel of it…

I started this painting in 2008…and left it in between…for a lot of reasons.

That I could not paint it as good as it was on the promo,
I couldn’t get that dark green-just a hint away from black, in water colour…
My painting was not shining like it did on a glossy paper…

but above all, i felt repulsive because I couldn't read the romance in my painting.

“A couple embracing each other while sailing in the sky amidst palm trees” - is supposed to be romantic. It was probably the most romantic picture I would have seen but it was not real and I found it so difficult relating to that unreal part of it while painting.

When I see a picture its different... I may like the picture a lot but i don't really relate to it. When I paint something I undergo a different set of feeling. Being my creation its almost like a part of me. My creation, my baby. So, i couldn't stand my baby being any less than the original. I wanted my painting to be exactly like it was on that glossy promotion picture… but the truth is I couldn't create that magic…and I just couldn’t complete it….

Two weeks back when I saw the incomplete painting and there was no original to compare with… I saw my painting for the first time without being prejudice may be.

...and then I found it appealing…just couldn’t control myself to finish it. I was taught in Rabindra Society (in whatever few classes that I attended), never to use black colour in water-colour paintings…but heck, who follows rules,when you are painting from your heart?

It still appears like a dream on the paper…so romantic... but haven’t I learnt that my dreams are real… than the reality!!! So, I am still happily dreaming!!!

Disclaimer:my blogs are not literary work, but just the voice behind my paintings!!!

From the Top of C-Block Meghdoot

Back then it looked so beautiful from my terrace. It gave me a sense of freedom…gave wings to my imagination. Looking at it from across the river Kharkai, was so fulfilling that I would simply sit on the stairs of water-tank, wondering…how it could look so perfect…so picture perfect!!!

Yes, back then I used to dream of being a photographer…teaching myself techniques, required to become a photographer.

I used to watch Discovery a lot…probably it was my only connection to the world outside my house as I was literally in house-arrest. Somewhere, on Discovery I had heard that nature has a lot to offer …all you need is to learn to frame your picture. I would simply walk on the terrace trying to capture it between two trees, from different angles.

And, down stairs, in the kitchen, my mother would ponder over the thoughts yelling in her head. Thoughts that her daughter was half crazy…which I accept with grace now. Yes it was crazy to stare at the Chimneys every day…for minutes…I would have stared at it for hours if I wasn’t scared of my mother. I knew it very well that she would scold me if I stayed just about a bit longer, so I would give it about 15-20 mins everyday.

Well my mother was just scared… scared for me, that I would loose all my sanity. That I dream and dream some more…and she had no clue what was I dreaming of.

I was scared too. I was scared to tell her my dreams. Well, there were so many dreams and so many ideas that I myself was unsure of which one to follow.

Now that I have accepted the cruelty of life that you can’t expect all the dreams to come true, I am so much in sync with myself and ready to share my dreams with people I know.

Yes it was my dream to become a photographer and capture that beautiful Brick-chimney, between the two trees, at the edges of the frame, against Kharkai and sun just about to melt into the water of Kharkai river.

So, in this painting I’ve put the same Chimney in the center…its not the same frame…its just an imagination…