Kitschy dreams

If there is something I hate more than people who wear grey and cream together, is being absolutely jobless. Staring into space. Changing channels on the television. Refreshing my Facebook page again and again. It makes me feel like a married aunty whose sits around waiting for her husband to get back from work. And I don’t have a husband also. You see where this is going?

So a while ago, when Wastey tells me there is work opportunity for the two of us, I put on my prettiest shoes and run towards my new workplace in slow motion. Instant love connection happened. And I’ve been running to work and college and back to work ever since. While I do miss randomly hanging out after college, I could not be happier.

Working here also makes me feel a little Konkona SenSharma in Wake Up Sid. I always envisioned that kind of life for myself. Living independently and writing about things I love the most. I’m graduating in six months. May be that life is not so far away.

Speaking of Wake Up Sid and husband, I almost fell in love with Ranbir Kapoor every time he stepped out with his camera.

Then again, there are a lot of things about the movie that made me fall in love. Remember Konkona’s off-white kurta with the little camels all over it? I liked it so much I painted my very own version of that kurta. Except, I replaced the camels with ‘banjaaran’. I love being gypsy-ish like that.

I love how the entire movie had such a kitschy feel to it. Right from her bedroom to the Mumbai Beat office. My office looks a little bit like, with random colours splashed all over the place. May be that’s another reason I love coming here as much as I do.

P.S. Did I tell you, I went to Chor Bazaar to do a story? ^_^

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My brother and I talk sometimes. He does most of the talking. I pretend to listen for a while and then give that ‘are you suffering from verbal diarrhea look?’

A few weeks ago, he came running into my room saying he had to rush. I gave him the most disgruntled look ever, followed by a very long lecture. Reason? He was wearing a pair checkered shorts and a striped t-shirt. Just because they had the same colours, he thought it was socially acceptable to step out like that. What is a girl supposed to do when she sees such blasphemy being committed before her own eyes? He left me with no choice.

Yesterday we were walking home and he was telling me about how he thinks he is having a ‘hukka phase’. He was looking at me for some sort of sane advice. Stuff like stop destroying your lungs or I’m going to tell mommy.

Instead I look at him with a straight face. ‘Suit Yourself’. Those were my words of advice.

‘Tell me something! Scream at me!’

‘You can do whatever you want as long as you’re not doing in a pair of checkered shorts and striped tee.’

It was my brother’s turn to look at me absolutely straight faced.

My Nomadic Love

Ever heard a piece of music that took you to another place. Another time.
Ever looked into the eyes of a stranger who seemed more familiar than all the people you have ever known?
Ever had a eerie dream that seemed more real than most dreams have?
Ever wondered why we don't leave our past where it belongs?
Doesn't it fascinate you how it finds it's way into our lives through the conscious, the subconcious and every other medium it can find?

Ever asked yourself who you really are?
Where do you really belong?

I have.
I don't belong here.
I don't belong anywhere.
And yet I belong in every place the sun rises and the stars shine.

I want to grab a bag, pack it with the things I love the most and fly off to another land, with a stranger who harbours the same dreams as I do.
I want to be gypsy.
A nomadic gypsy.
For it is who I have been in another life.
Who I wish to be in this life.

I'll dance and sing along the way, and weave beautiful lines about my journey.
I'll meditate by the shore during the day, and talk to the angels and fairies at night.
May be I'll cast my own Wiccan circle.
I'll look at my coffee cup in the morning and have all the answers I seek.

I'll surround myself with myriad colours until a strange sort of peace descends upon me.
I'll learn about herbs, about plants and the fine art of healing the soul.
I'll train under a master, until I know all the secrets of the Universe.
May be I'll belly dance until my soles hurt and my heart starts to dance to a brand new rhythm.

Grab my hand.
I'll grab yours too.
I don't know if you're my soulmate.
Or just another stranger to me.
But this journey is way too beautiful for me to live it alone.
While I can't say that I belong to you, I promise to journey with you.
Till the very end.

Shopping List - May'10

Every month deserves a new shopping list, no?
I'm already half way through May and I haven't managed to shop much.
The parents are worried.
This behavioral pattern has never been observed before.
So without further ado, I'm going do what I do best.
Make shopping lists for myself!

• Cat-eye glasses.
• Ethnic rings.
• Cane bag (which I want to paint myself)
• Colourful scarves.
• Hairbands.
• New pair of jeans.
• White kurta.
• Long black vest.
• Deep purple nail paint.
• Green patiala.
• And some very pretty ballerinas!

Shopping List!

Every new month calls for a new shopping list. So now I'm just going to rant endlessly about all the silly little things I need to buy. Yes need. Because my existence seems meaningless without such material possessions. So if you have nothing useful to do right now, you can go over the shopping highlights of March 2010.

Jackets. I feel extremely jackety for some reason. I want long jackets, short jackets, sleeveless jackets, puff sleeved jackets, dull jackets, bright jackets, plain jackets, printed jackets, you name it.

Stockings. I want Black net stockings with a crazy print and I want it now!!!!! Do you hear me God? N.O.W. Oh and while you're at it, you can thrown one of each colour :D Stripped ones will also be appreciated.

Teeny tiny, yet very classy dresses to go with the stockings.

Juuuummmmmppppsuits! Everytime I see a girl wear a jumpsuit, my conscience screams, how dare you not possess one?! I'm usually so embarrassed I can't even face my closet for the next two hours.

Oh and loads and loads of pumps and Mary janes! I can't wear the stockings with chappals no?

Patiala. Green ones. And on sale preferably :P

Some very pretty puff sleeved blouses and pretty neck pieces to wear with them.

Of course I'd need a pair of new skinnies for the blouses. If I wear my old ones, the blouses will get offended na?

And finally some moneeeeyyyy!
And I give you a wonderful opportunity to contribute to "Lavender's Shopping Fund".
Click on the link to check out some pretty Indian bags that I'm retailing through my Blog and become one of the lucky winners to receive abundant blessings :D

Stills in High Heels

Ooooooommmmmgggggggggg today was awesome!
So what if I have made it home with smelly clothes, a mind that is too tired to function, eyes that for once are overwhelmed with the display of colours, legs that are silently abusing me for the torture they have been subjected to and a stomach that has survived up till now on just ONE paratha? *faints*

Today I got a glimpse of how I want the rest of my life to be.

Well, you do know that Blitzkrieg is coming up and I haven't exactly been giving up my goodnight sleep over it or putting everything else on hold just so I can be a part of the process. Of course, there is my Magazine Committee, but we're a really lazy lot.

Now that the photography event has come along, I suddenly find myself more enthused about Blitz than I ever was!

7 models, 7 photographers, an in-studio shoot, a ramp show, haute couture, a make up artist, a hair stylist and a look designer.
Do you want to guess what role I am going to play in this little reality show of our own?
Well no points for guessing right answer.

So let me tell you how we went about it. The first thing we did was making them sit and giving them a big talk. Shivam used fancy words like haute couture, and quotes which nobody understood, while dropping in names of famous photographers every now and then to make the audience go wow. then we took them to the boutique so they could pick their outfits. One for the photoshoot and one for the ramp.

So what I had to do was, have a little talk with each of the models ask them the sort of look they wanted, explain the look I thought would suit them, and then watch the Bridezillas in the making completely ransack the boutique to an extent that it resembled a godown filled with way too many people for it's own good.

But it was so much fun I tell you! Just looking at the stuff there was therapeutic. I loved the whole process of putting their outfit together, picking out their accessories, and advising them on the sort of shoes they should wear. I love how they'd look at me all wide-eyed and mouth open, like I was giving them the most life-changing advice. I loved how there were piles of clothes EVERYWHERE. I loved how the clueless guys picked up the most atrocious outfits and hated me for telling them so. I loved how we took six whole hours to pick just two outfits for each model. But nothing, absolutely nothing beats the happy faces of the models when they left the boutique feeling absolutely special.

So I'm going to say this one more time.
Today was the sax.
Tomorrow is going to be even better!

So I'm back :)

Bumpy bus rides.
Quarreling for the window seat.
Eventful train journeys.
Gossip sessions in the room.
Endless discussions at dinner time.
Visits to the most palatial buildings in the country.
Food that tasted like it was heaven sent.
Sand dunes that looked like they been taken right out of a movie.
Going gaga over the oxidized jewelery in the market.
Cursing camels that make you feel like you're going to fall off and tumble into the sand.
Actually tumbling into the sand.
Hotel rooms that made me feel like a princess.
Walks around the hotel in the cold, breezy night.
Making new friends.
Bonding with the old.
Eavesdropping on conversations.
Dressing up in colourful garments.
Clicking a million pictures.
Taking back a million memories.

I still don't know when the IV started and when it ended.
It pretty much seemed like an extra long day.
The kind that leaves you feeling happy for days after that.
Though I thoroughly enjoyed every bit of my trip, let me tell you what I like the most.
I liked how absolutely colourful Rajasthan is.
Shopping was such an adventure.
Whenever I go to a new place, I want to explore the local market and pick up some really interesting things to take back with me.
So I bought this really awesome pair of bandhini printed Dhoti Pants, a Dupatta and a spagetti top.
As for jewellery I went  a little crazy.
I got one of those kadas you wear on your arm, thick anklets and thick bangles.
I got a nice pair of mojris and a jhola I am absolutely obsessed with right now.
I'll put up the pictures shortly.

Well apart from that, I really like dhow I talked to a lot of people.
I used be like that in Junior College.
Always out there and socialising.
Don't know what happened to me after I left that place.
Well it feels really good to know a lot of people again. :)

Diwali Greetings to All :)

While I'm not really a big fan of the 'Festival of Lights' and all the damage it causes to the environment, it's that auspicious time of the year and I'm just going to focus on the positives and leave the negatives for another time of the year :)

Here's a list of things I love about Diwali

• Love how I get invited to fancy lunches and dinners everyday
• Love how the house is so full of sweets, there is no place to walk
• Love how I get to wear unreasonable amounts of bling
  
• Love how the streets are all beautiful and lit up
• But what i love the most is how it makes me :)
  

Art and what it means to me

I was sitting in Candies before my exams pretending to study when this couple comes and sits in the table next to us. Delighted at the sudden distraction, i started eavesdropping on their conversation. I'm such a compulsive eavesdropper you know. I love listening to things I'm not supposed to listen to and switch off when I'm actually supposed to listen and absorb. The thrills of the 'Forbidden fruit' I tell you.
Coming back to the point. I was going to tell you what they were talking about and how it affected me. Well the word painting and art seemed to be omnipresent in their conversation. "I sold my painting for 20,000." "His parents wanted so badly to buy my new painting". "Sometimes I feel like I'm possessed. I sit all day working on my painting. And then there are times I can't look at my canvas for days."
It wasn't very hard to relate to what they were talking about. Even as a writer you feel pretty much the same way. But that wasn't why the conversation had an impact on me. It filled me with a sense of nostalgia for the world of colours, paintbrushes, messy hands and beautiful pictures. It took me back to the days when Art actually had some meaning in my life.
From the days in pre-school when I got a chalk-board to draw a picture accompanying the word I was learning, or the days in 7th grade when I tried so hard to make sure my paintings made it to the School board, or the day before my intermediate exam when I refused to sleep because I wanted to practice everything I could get my hands on. My notebooks are a living testimony to all my artwork. They contained less study material and more sketches. Infact the text books didn't escape the attack of the sketches either.
So here I am, years after I said goodbye to an important part of me, making a resolution that no matter what happens I am going to get that old box of poster paints out and sign up for canvas painting lessons before the end of next year! :)