Artists
October 31, 2020
It’s sacrilege to call ourselves designers or writers. We are artists. There’s a larger role of artists in the society than a mere creative expression of their craft.
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It’s sacrilege to call ourselves designers or writers. We are artists. There’s a larger role of artists in the society than a mere creative expression of their craft.
Continue reading
Being a writer, isolation is second nature to me. Writers are known to living in a dreamy world they’ve created with no distractions, just words floating around like atoms.
Continue readingA diwali radio spot that gave me creative satisfaction. Pure hindi with several words that are colloquial. Aired on Suno 1024FM (United Arab Emirates) in November 2019.
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The city of superlatives is more than meets-the-eye. It’s got its heart pumping and ensures your jaw drops at adventurous experiences, not just at sight-seeing.
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To understand the food of Katra, one must understand the concept of Sattvik. We all know that Sattvik is pure vegetarian food, just as is Vaishnav food. But there is more to Sattvik than just the pleasant sounding name. It stems from Ayurdeva
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There is something endearing about Taj Mahal. Maybe it’s the name itself, which has come to symbolize craftsmanship of the finest level. Or it’s the grand scale on which it is built. Or it’s the conspicuous status of being one of the wonders of the world.
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As the last ray of sun melts into the horizon, the sky changes colors like a chameleon. The clouds do try to bounce off a kaleidoscopic luminescence with joyous oranges, yellows and reds, but the light is short-lived.
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In our Italian sojourn, Rome was the only touristy city that warranted shopping. It was the last leg of our journey, so we knew how much space our luggage had, and how much Euros our wallets had.
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The corridors were abuzz with loud chatter, laughter marked by wild abandon, and talks that never had any end. The newfound voice that was accompanied by philosophies, ideologies and dreamy notions. A culture of nonconformity was conditioned in these years.
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She sat hunched on her knees, eyes bereft of remorse yet welled up, occasional hiccups bringing a kind of comic relief in that tense moment. She was accused of theft, a grave offense given that maids are supposed to be loyal to the core.
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In India, a house is not ‘home’ until there is a Bai rustling up her magic broom there. She’s the harbinger of cleanliness, convenience and sanity, a God-sent figure who fights the rogues called dirt, teaches messiness a lesson and brings order in disorder.
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Whenever I use the Citron range, I am transported to the Amalfi coast of Italy, where lemon & orange trees are found in abundance almost everywhere. There’s a punctuated essence of Mediterranean summers, its invigorating spirit and youthful candour.
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The smell of iron or metals in a train brings back memories of long train journeys. And the smell in the air! How do I elaborate on the smell of autumn, of the onset of winters and the way everything starts becoming romantic, eventually becoming quixotic in winters.
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Almonds. They remind me of an entire childhood ritual spent eating 5 peeled almonds daily in the morning that were soaked overnight. They remind me of my pet who I would pamper by feeding him 2-3 of them daily and he would gleefully chew on them as if they were made of rubber. Almonds also remind me of that Kashmiri vendor who would come to Delhi every winters to sell Cashmere shawls and bring me almonds
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