Monday, 31 May 2010

Bound and Gagged

I live in a block of flats in Notting Hill, London. Its a beautiful place and for the last nine months that I've spent here, I have been busy noticing every gorgeous detail of life around me. Things have been great, except this tiny hitch.

Every morning at around ten I hear the beep of a transport vehicle, someone asking trivial questions with no reply and then the thud of a closing door ending with the fading sound of a car leaving. And every now and again if I come home early I hear an electronic voice asking someone to hold the line followed by the desperate voice of a woman asking someone why he is calling if everything is okay. Again, with no reply. It goes on for a while until she refuses to pick up again or until i get distracted and stop eavesdropping. Usually the latter.

One morning I ran to my window when the noise came. I saw his back. It was a man in a wheelchair being slowly loaded into a care-home vehicle. He was being asked about how he was, the weather and the mundane fiddle-faddle of daily life. He was giving no response in return.

Later in the week, my landlord came by to tell me there was a leak in my flat that was causing a massive drip in the flat below. The man who lived there had been semi paralyzed thanks to a fall down some steps and is now dependent on care-homes and attendants for every small task. It seemed his caretakers hadn't reacted to the drip for days and the carpet was now soaking wet in most of the corridor. The leak was promptly fixed.

I began to think of him more and more everyday. Should I go and introduce myself. Should I offer any help. Would he actually like to know me? I tried speaking to his caretaker every time I saw her walking in but she would walk past jangling her keys with a stern expression that would nip any question right in the bud.

Then day before, I did it. It was around 5. I walked down the steps and knocked. There was a muffled noise for a response. I yelled who I was and that I only came to say hello. There was no sound for a while and then a regular 'tick' every two seconds. I felt my heart beat faster. It went on for five very long minutes. I decided to yell that I will come back another time and began to leave. I found myself running towards the exit. Then I heard the click of the door latch. My body froze as I turned around.

His eyes were dark hollows with bulging eyeballs peeking from behind the door. My mouth felt numb and I felt my body break into a cold sweat. I had imagined his face many times but I hadnt gone this far.

"Hi, I'm Prachi. I'm your neighbor."
no response. I stammered on obsessively...
"I heard about the leak causing problems, I'm so..s.. sorry to hear it. I hope its fine now."
He murmured a response that sounded like a no problem. Or maybe i imagined so. I dint want to stop talking with the fear that I might focus even more on his face that was emerging slowly from behind the half open door.
"I'm really sorry about it. I hope you dont mind me just dropping by. I.. I just wanted to say hello."
As he murmured another incomprehensible sound and shook his head in slow motion, I realized that he had not been peeking at all. He was merely moving at a slow pace around the door, still edging his way on an electronic crutch of some sort. Something compelled me to focus only on his eyes. His face blurs in my memory but I remember thinking it resembled the walking skeletons of 'The Pirates of Caribbean'. I began to say goodbye and then remembered what I had wanted to say.
"Oh and...I am right upstairs if you need anything. Please feel free to..a ... call... me anytime..."
I hurriedly waved a goodbye and ran out the door.

I felt stupid. How was he supposed to call me? Even if he could, what was he supposed to say? I shudder as I imagine myself in his shoes. I remember baba, my grandfather, and the tears in his eyes during his last days of the paralysis. I dint understand it fully back then and maybe I dont now either. But instantly my knees feel weak at the thought of the forced inability. The sudden shift from a full life to one so dependent and perhaps lonely.

I plan to see him again. I dont know what I will say or do but I know I'd like to let him know I think of him and remember baba.

Saturday, 29 May 2010

debut

so i have finally made the first few garments of my debut collection. my first leap in the world of fashion has me feeling clumsy, awkward, excited and accomplished all at once. my fascination for colors, people, movement and culture all seems to be coming together in this vivid expression.

its strange to see my name on the label. if i look at it any longer than 15 seconds, the words blur to form a familiar yet amusingly strange abstract. the significance of that small little scrap of material stuck at the back of each dress humbles me at the same time as it gets me all charged to plough further.

its been a great response so far. the moire is working. i cant wait to get it all together. :-)

Thursday, 13 May 2010

while...we're on it.... ;-)

cat
catabolic
catabolically
catabolism
catabolisms
catabolite
catabolites
catabolize
catabolized
catabolizes
catabolizing
catachreses
catachresis
catachrestic
catachrestical
catachrestically
cataclysm
cataclysmal
cataclysmic
cataclysmically
cataclysms
catacomb
catacombs
catadioptric
catadromous
catafalque
catafalques
catalase
catalases
catalatic
catalectic
catalectics
catalepsies
catalepsy
cataleptic
cataleptically
cataleptics
catalexes
catalexis
catalo
cataloes
catalog
cataloged
cataloger
catalogers
cataloging
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catalogued
cataloguer
cataloguers
catalogues
cataloguing
catalos
catalpa
catalpas
catalyses
catalysis
catalyst
catalysts
catalytic
catalytically
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catalyzed
catalyzer
catalyzers
catalyzes
catalyzing
catamaran
catamarans
catamenia
catamenial
catamite
catamites
catamount
catamounts
cataphora
cataphoras
cataphoreses
cataphoresis
cataphoretic
cataphoretically
cataphoric
cataplasm
cataplasms
cataplexies
cataplexy
catapult
catapulted
catapulting
catapults
cataract
cataractous
cataracts
catarrh
catarrhal
catarrhally
catarrhine
catarrhines
catarrhs
catastrophe
catastrophes
catastrophic
catastrophically
catastrophism
catastrophisms
catastrophist
catastrophists
catatonia
catatonias
catatonic
catatonically
catatonics
catawba
catawbas
catbird
catbirds
catboat
catboats
catbrier
catbriers
catcall
catcalled
catcalling
catcalls
catch
catchable
catchall
catchalls
catcher
catchers
catches
catchflies
catchfly
catchier
catchiest
catching
catchment
catchments
catchpenny
catchphrase
catchphrases
catchpole
catchpoles
catchpoll
catchpolls
catchup
catchups
catchword
catchwords
catchy
catclaw
catclaws
cate
catecheses
catechesis
catechetical
catechin
catechins
catechism
catechismal
catechisms
catechist
catechistic
catechists
catechization
catechizations
catechize
catechized
catechizer
catechizers
catechizes
catechizing
catechol
catecholamine
catecholaminergic
catecholamines
catechols
catechu
catechumen
catechumens
catechus
categoric
categorical
categorically
categories
categorise
categorised
categorises
categorising
categorization
categorizations
categorize
categorized
categorizes
categorizing
category
catena
catenae
catenaries
catenary
catenas
catenate
catenated
catenates
catenating
catenation
catenations
catenoid
catenoids
cater
cateran
caterans
catercorner
catercornered
catered
caterer
caterers
cateress
cateresses
catering
caterpillar
caterpillars
caters
caterwaul
caterwauled
caterwauling
caterwauls
cates
catface
catfaces
catfacing
catfacings
catfall
catfalls
catfight
catfights
catfish
catfishes
catgut
catguts
catharses
catharsis
cathartic
cathartics
cathead
catheads
cathect
cathected
cathectic
cathecting
cathects
cathedra
cathedrae
cathedral
cathedrals
cathedras
cathepsin
cathepsins
catheter
catheterization
catheterizations
catheterize
catheterized
catheterizes
catheterizing
catheters
cathexes
cathexis
cathodal
cathodally
cathode
cathodes
cathodic
cathodically
catholic
catholically
catholicate
catholicates
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catholicity
catholicize
catholicized
catholicizes
catholicizing
catholicoi
catholicon
catholicons
catholicos
catholicoses
catholics
cathouse
cathouses
cation
cationic
cationically
cations
catkin
catkins
catlike
catlin
catling
catlings
catlins
catmint
catmints
catnap
catnaper
catnapers
catnapped
catnapper
catnappers
catnapping
catnaps
catnip
catnips
catoptric
cats
catspaw
catspaws
catsup
catsups
cattail
cattails
cattalo
cattaloes
cattalos
catted
catteries
cattery
cattie
cattier
catties
cattiest
cattily
cattiness
cattinesses
catting
cattish
cattle
cattleman
cattlemen
cattleya
cattleyas
catty
catwalk
catwalks


dont know about the reading but spot on regarding the feline i say!

I have a suggestion for aspiring writers who want to insure that their first book, if not a best-seller, at least sells out its first printing--put a cat in it. A secret that has clearly already registered with publishers is this: people who read and buy books tend to be people who adore and pamper cats. This is almost certainly why, in the last several years, the number of books featuring cats has steadily increased. Among the art books you will find Hans Silvester's gorgeous Cats in the Sun and Mediterranean Cats, collections of photographs in which the cats pose in stark silhouette like exercises in pure design. Children's books have always had cats--Wanda Gag's Millions of Cats, Dr. Seuss' The Cat in the Hat, Dav Pilkey's surreally beautiful When Cats Dream, and many, many more. Of late there has been a rash of murder mysteries centering around cats, from Marian Babson's Murder at the Cat Show and Nine Lives to Murder to Lillian Jackson Braun's The Cat Who...(Came to Breakfast, Said Cheese, etc.) series. There is even science fiction centering around cats, like Alan Dean Foster's amusing Cat-a-Lyst. And then there is the little nothing book, the inexpensive, cartoonish sort of book of humor about cats, such as Henry Beard's entertaining French for Cats, and Poetry for Cats (actually an outstanding collection of literary parodies--what Chaucer and other greats would have sounded like had their works been written by their cats). Nonfiction offerings studying the history and mysterious behavior of cats have also increased--Barbara Holland's Secrets of the Cat, and Desmond Morris' Cat-Watching, to name a few of the best. The book trade has clearly caught on to the fact that librarians, who are a double threat (they not only buy books for themselves, but for their libraries as well), are particularly susceptible to cats. There are even libraries that have resident cats--a fact that a major library supplier, Baker and Taylor, caught onto. When they learned that there were two library cats named Baker and Taylor, these felines became the official B&T mascots, appearing in thousands of promotional Baker and Taylor posters, T-shirts, handbags, etc. (OK, librarians also like freebies of all kinds.) The obvious question, of course, is, what is this affinity between cats and readers? I think it has to do with the contemplative nature of readers. Reading is a solitary, and in some ways, deeply anti-social act. We are in a one-on-one conversation with another person's mind. If we are deeply engrossed, we may not even see or hear the people around us. We may be oblivious to the sound of timers ringing, the smell of burning rice, the voices of quarreling children. The independent-minded choosiness of cats, the aloofness, the unnerving stare, the refusal to be owned--all the things that so many people find disturbing in cats--are things we readers recognize in ourselves. We understand creatures that are busy inside their own heads. We are the people Kate Jacobs sings about, who know that Some dreams come around only when you're by yourself A separate peace that can be found when you are a little lonely And besides, cats don't constantly insist on your attention. You know how they say that two-year-olds aren't really capable of playing with each other--they merely play beside each other? That's the kind of undemanding companionship cats offer. There they are, soft, contented lumps on the lap. Aside from a sleeping baby, is there anything that feels as warm and comfortable in your lap as that soft, almost boneless mass of contented fur? It appeals to almost all your senses--as you stroke the warm fur, from time to time looking down in wonder at the elegant, casual grace of the feline form, listening, throughout, to the full-throated purr. Ah, yes, the purr. It's a sound that does as much as Mozart does to promote internal harmony. And thought. It helps us concentrate upon the words in front of us. At the same time, you always have a sense that you yourself are personally responsible for the cat's state of bliss. You feel honored to have been chosen. Because a cat is notoriously picky about its people. When a cat first makes your acquaintance, she circles around you warily, observing you from every angle. If you summon her with a "Here, kit,kit,kit," she will pause and think before she moves ever so slowly toward you. And if you move too quickly, if you can't resist the urge to grab, she will run away. She prefers to make the decision herself, moving forward an inch at a time, gathering in your smell, trusting you only if you offer stillness. And when she gets within touching distance, you still have to prove yourself by the delicacy, the hesitancy with which you touch her. Only when she really trusts you will she climb into your lap. And you'll feel like a god has chosen you. Think about this. YOU are the one who is doing all the work, here. YOU are doing the stroking and skritching, YOU are supplying the food and water, YOU are emptying the litter box. What you are getting in return is a queen of Sheba sort of response--"Yes, you may adore me, and while you're at it, work on the left ear a bit more, why don't you?" And you feel honored just to have been chosen to serve. No wonder they were gods in Egypt. Maybe they got used to being gods then, and have expected everybody else since then to honor and serve them. We bookish sorts are picky people, too. We don't have hosts of casual friends and acquaintances. We tend to be quiet, contemplative folk, with just a few carefully chosen intimates. We know what an honor it is to be chosen by someone just as carefully selective as we are. That, I believe, is why cats and booklovers go so very well together. We see our affinity. We book people are merely graceless, furless, two-legged cats. Those books on cats we buy are as much tributes to ourselves as to the cats. So, you aspiring novelists and humorists, tell us wondrous tales of cats--if you write them, we will come. --- My Word's Worth: a weekly column by Marylaine Bloc

Sunday, 9 May 2010

the leap

i strongly believe that its always about the leap. there are never any guarantees of what the result might be, but one never knows till one walks the line.

i think some of the things that hold us back is logic and planning. maybe dreams dont come true with that, maybe it needs a little extra something, a crazy belief and an unprecedented action that goes beyond the comfort zone. maybe its all just sitting there waiting for someone to come grab it. maybe sometimes pathways are not as long as they look.

the secret detours may be crazy but perhaps they do exist, only to be found within spontaneous insane premises?

Thursday, 29 April 2010

Delhi Darshan and Discoveries apr'10

360, Oberoi : classic laid back luxury
* brilliant stone baked pizza
* just-right tiramisu
* temp a tad too low and leather seats a little chilly to sit on
* the ceiling is curiously funky albeit mildly threatening to one's sense of physical well being.
* pristine pool side view


Magique, Garden of Five Senses : summery intoxicating light headedness
* beautiful ambience
* water sprinklers leave the air cool and misty, though watch out for the heavy showers right under the fountain heads.
* the second last vegetarian main, a pasta, is the one pasta in the world i do love!
* the girly colorful cocktails are a breath of fresh air, wish the mango and strawberry concentrates were replaced by fresh pulp too.
* whatever your do, do not forget your mosquito repellent gel!


Smoke House Deli, Emporio : quirky elegant mid-mall meals
* the Bellini is the show stealer, perfect.
* surprisingly good greek salad, fresh feta, crisp lettuce, virgin olive oil...a few honey roasted pine nuts and i'd be ready to order a weekly subscription.
* a little noisy given the location, malls may be a threat to humankind.
* slightly confused and lost service.
* fun interiors, wish white was easier on the up keep...tacky in no time.


Lap, Samrat : Confused happening late nighter
* odd location, even odder interiors
* guest lists and a shipload full of exclusivity
* higher average age... but ofcourse, glad to have met dad's friends though.
* loads of space and regal gardens
* the last place rocking in delhi...5am and still going strong!
* uplifting dancey music but watch out for collision paths, the most elbowing crowd ever!


AI, MGF mall : outdoorsy trancey trippy times
* lively airy terrace spot unlike the dark dingy insides of most bars
* fun music but wish they'd turn up the sound!
* the smoothest kamikaze ever, kudos to the bartender!
* fun place to get happy high in large groups

Thursday, 11 March 2010

back to the future

wow... its already been ages since i wrote here. many days, weeks have passed and it seems to have all gone in an eye shut. i think we need to reinvent time. i hereby start the 'lets-slow-down-time' club. feel free to join.

on another note...i have the disease of always thinking out loud. call it verbal diarrhea or extended self expression, its still a dis- ease. I am old enough today to perhaps honestly confess to have felt the extremes of most emotions. joy, pain, love, betrayal and satisfaction. they came and went and i always wondered how one would, if one could measure emotion. is my pain more or less than yours, is my joy more joyful that the others', am i less satisfied than i was yesterday or is this betrayal the worst i would ever face. i will never know i suppose. for even if i knew the answer in figures or graphs or what have you..there will never be enough words to capture its essence. that sharp tinge of feeling...whatever it may be...how does one describe it? and if i can never describe it, can i ever truly share it? we created language then script then gadgets then software... tool after tool to do just that and yet here we are, still struggling to encapsulate that which we feel. that ghost tug in the middle of the chest, the invisible weight on our shoulders or that heady thrill rushing up our spines.

i cant seem to pin down where that came from exactly but perhaps its an amalgamation of my constant brush with art at the RCA. The popular theme of communicating emotion always strikes a chord. this desperation to design products and experiences that reach out to people, connect and hopefully make a difference... what about the human to human interaction. what about the pain and joy that causes in itself? is that learning not part of education for all anymore? in this generation of what a cynical part of me calls a self obsessed delirium, are we not getting further and further apart no matter how many more communication devices we create? i own a phone, a laptop with internet, a landline, four email addresses, two websites and write a blog!! i know it may sound like overkill to some of you but its funny how it may not to some others! its normal to be connected yet live absolutely alone! its almost normal now to have been in five or more relationships by age 30! its okay to travel all over the globe and yet see your own grandparents only on christmas! sometimes i wonder where we're headed. dont get me wrong, im not on any high horse looking down on fellow mankind.. i'm merely paranoid momentarily about my own old age, whenever it will come... will i have been put away on another planet with communication gadgets plugged into me so i can be remotely monitored while i browse through 54,678 tv channels and simultaneously update my status on 893 communication pages???

Sunday, 8 November 2009

The Beginning.

There's always a first I suppose. And here is mine. The awkward first step into this strange world of talking in the dark. As I type these words sitting on my desk tonight, I feel a bit like I stepped of my window into an endless cloud of pitch black. I'm straining my eyes waiting for them to adjust to the dark. Do write once in a while to let me know you're here too.
x