Despair

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Remember the time I told you guys I had a photography project and needed some ideas.

Well, here's what I clicked.

Not too professional or anything.

But i hope I conveyed despair well.

let me know what you think.

xo

Love Happened.

Out of all the things that have me kicked out of my mind, stalking stylish people for my blog is the ultimate.
Uploading their pictures and acting like some self-proclaimed expert comes number two on the list.
Need I mention getting models all decked up with what I have picked, while they go prissy and pouty in front of the camera?
And then there's a kick, that surpasses all of the above.
What can I tell you Niggas?
Love is happening!
Saxy boyfrand hasn't come along yet, but for now another sort of love will suffice.

A Journalist from Tehelka called me up the other day and said she is doing a feature of fashion Bloggers in the country and wanted to feature my blog as well.
Relentless flow of tears happened.
Yes I'm melodramatic like that.

So she called me up for an interview and to be honest I felt quite celebrity-ish.
I didn't know how long it would be until I get another shot at this, so I took the opportunity to rant as much as I can and pretend like all the gyaan in the world was sitting that brain of mine.

To top it all, there was a fancy photoshoot and all.
And I was the model for a change.
Of course, I went totally over the top, pulled on a pair of yellow net stockings, wore a floral hippie skirt, yellow tank top, pink ruffled waistcoat, golden ballerinas, loads of pink accessories and viola!
The shoot was so much fun I tell you!
We went to Dhobi Ghat.
I'm going to skip the part where we got visually molested, almost slipped a hundred times and left the place with drops of soapy water stains all over our dresses.

This was followed by a shoot on Mahalaxmi bridge.
We clicked some pictures on the road, standing on the divider, crossing the road, standing against the railing and all that.
Again celebrity-ish-ness happened.
Hope the pictures come out well.
I'll post a link here!
And for those of you who haven't visited the Blog yet, you must click here!
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Now speaking of love, I must confess that my love-hate relationship with gladiators has finally come to an end!
It's love, love and just love now.
I bought this awesome pair of black ankle length gladiators the other day, with bronze studs all over them.
I haven't taken them off ever since.
Not even in my sleep.

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That's all for now, my chocolate coated Muffins.
I've changed my name from lavender to K-ay because it's closer to my name and Lavender is just something I randomly picked for the lack of something better.
When people call me Lavender, it feels a bit strange.
It reminds me of one of those characters from a 17th century novel, dressed in a white gown with exaggerated puff sleeves and sitting in a carriage waiting for prince charming to come along.
Real name is not a good option, because if ze relatives will go on a name googling spree and come across this Blog either, life will be over before it even starts!
So K-ay its is as of now!
Have a colourful week!
See you around more often!
xo

Terrorists, Feminists, maggi and other things!

My brother thinks I would make an awesome terrorist. Or I’m secretly one and I haven’t told them yet.

Every time I make him study, he literally pees in his pants.  I scream loud enough for my relatives on the other side of town to hear me. In my defence, his important- information retention capacity is less than mine. Will to daydream?  Far greater. Results?  Disastrous!

Apart from his I-will-remember-just-one-line-from-a-one page-answer attitude, his love for all things made of maida puts me off. Why eat white bread and Maggi, when you can have whole wheat bread and whole wheat pasta instead? Apparently, he doesn’t think so. He continues to consume slices after slices of bread loaded with cheese. His daily diet involves literally inhaling bowls of Maggi. At odd hours of the day, that too. Result? More screaming, hair pulling and name calling.

One of my uncles took a Korean wife. The woman makes me respect Korean culture. Every time she has to enthuse her tiny two-year old daughter about something, she screams, ‘Womens’ liberation’ and the delighted daughter throws her hands up and starts jumping immediately. Now the Feminist that I am, this practice has left me absolutely fascinated.  I’m inspired to instil the same value in my children.

This of course, makes my maida-loving brother think I am creepier than I actually am. He swore to my mum the other day that he won’t let his kids get anywhere close to me. For one, he didn’t want his kids screaming ‘Women’s Liberation’ at random intervals. Secondly, he didn’t want them to be deprived of the pleasures of digging into a bowl of Maggi.

Do you know what that means? I will be deprived of a chance to instil my deep rooted values in the minds of little children who have descended from the same blood line as I have. Generations after them will be brought up without the knowledge that women infact are the superior sex! My only hope is that another revolutionary in the family will be born. She will change the way the entire family thinks and complete the mission I was sent here to start!

Getting back to my brother, he had another amusing thing to say. He’d like to keep his children away from mine. He also intends to train them in Martial Arts, lest they ever have to deal with me. So on the rare occasions that his kids just have to meet mine, their conversation will be like this.

His kids: We know kung-fu, Karate and Tai chi!

My kids: We’re Karishma’s kids.

His kids: *Run away screaming*

And that is how the story ends.

What not to do when walking down the road.

Hello lovely people,

It is amazing how the urge to blog is so strong when all I should be doing is burying my nose in my books and forgetting that there is a World that exists outside of where I live. Since this two track mind of mine chooses to do nothing more productive than daydream about what to eat in the next break or what to buy on the next shopping expedition, which as you know is the most integral part of my life, I’ve decided to shut my books and do something more productive with my life. They say there is no greater joy that the joy of sharing knowledge. Certain experiences in life have opened my eyes. And today, my dear readers, I am going to give to share with you the knowledge of ‘What not to do when waking on the road!’

Bursting into song while walking may not be the best thing to do if you’re walking with a friend. They will stop in their tracks, turn around and walk away so fast that you will left alone singing to yourself. And you know what that makes you? A loony!

If your daily adventures involve screaming ‘Aaaaaaaaaaa’ while crossing the road, as if you are having a near death experience, the results are worse. Your friends will swear by every idol in the temple, that they will henceforth never be seen with you in public.

If the sheer joy of bumping into a friend you haven’t seen in twenty four hours, makes you want to run towards them and scream ‘itaaaaam’, you must learn to exercise self control. The Rajus, Munnas and even Harilals on the pathway assume you’re screaming out them and start blushing almost instantaneously as they hand comb their hair in the rare view mirror of the nearest car.

Apparently, singing songs like ‘Billo Rani’ and ‘Kajra Re’ produce similar results.

If you have the irresistible urge to break into dance and you know you’re going to be disowned as you were, for singing out loud, always remember you live in a country where dancing on the streets is as commonplace men peeing on the railway tracks. If it’s not Ganesh Chaturty or Navratri, then it’s surely got to be somebody’s wedding day. What’s better than to join a crazy bunch of baraatis as they set the streets on fire? And while you’re at it, please, please don’t forget it’s an Indian wedding; nobody needs to know who you are because they will assume you belong to the other side. So make sure you attend the wedding as well and fill your plates with piles and piles of food before hitting the dessert counter.

Clicking pictures on the road is alright. Finding absurd locations like dampened walls and ancient looking buildings and then posing against them as if you were doing a photoshoot for Harper’s Bazaar is not. The kids on the street come running towards you, and surround you as if a real shoot is going on. Before you know, the tinier ones will be crawling up the photographer’s legs in an attempt to get his attention and convince him to take their pictures. Never mind that he is probably using the most obsolete digital camera that exists.

While indulging in acts of dog calling (male version of cat calling) refrain from screaming out lines like ‘kya maal hai’ by merely seeing the back of an ‘object’ (as I would like to refer to them). Sometimes, as these objects turn, the frontal view might shock you beyond belief.

And as I complete this very meaningful blogpost, I feel rather smug about having shared the kind of life changing experiences that nobody on blog spot has ever shared. Ever.

Now you can go to the comments section of this post and share with me how these words of wisdom have made a significant difference in your lives.

Because I belong here.

The past two years have been a journey of sorts.
Miracles happen.
Sometimes even when you don't believe in them.
Mass media is something I've wanted to since I was 14.
At every stage in your life, you look at those above you and imagine living a life like theirs.
I'd look at the Xaviers' kids below my house in their kurtas, jholas and unruly hair and I just knew they belonged to BMM.
I couldn't wait to get to college, because I wanted my life to be just like theirs.

Sometimes, I still wake up in the morning feeling awestruck.
And rather happy.
As it turns out, my life is just the way I wanted it to be.
So I'm not your regular kurta and jhola girl.
I'm more of the kurta, jhola with a million blinding accessories girl.
But I love every bit of who I am and what I do.
I love every bit of what I see.
I love every bit of what I learn and I'm not even talking about the academics here.

Well, I am feeling particularly optimistic today.
But I'd be lying if I said there has not been a day when I've wanted to throw this life away and go off to another place.
A few projects have been sheer torture.
There have been days when sleep is a far off dream.
There have been times when I have had to work for hours on an end with some of the most uncooperative people you will ever meet.
I've also been manipulated and watched people grab the spotlight for something I spent hours on.

My first semester hasn't exactly been the sort of experience I'd want to gush about.
New place, new people, meaningless conversations and polite laughs.
It's an awful feeling to have to drag your feet every morning to a place you so despise.

But none of it matters anymore.
The memories I have of the semesters after the first, have more than made up for it.
I've had a chance to explore issues I care so deeply about.
I've had a chance to learn things about myself, I can't imagine my life without.

And I've  met some great people.
The sort who I can look at when somebody stands up and says the most amusing words and share a stifled laugh.
The sort who get my totally ridiculous sense of humour and choose not to judge me for it.
The kind who'd listen to me rant endlessly about things they can't even bothered about.
All that really matters at the end of the day, is that I finally feel like I belong here.
And I look forward to every day because I know it's going to be better than the one that's gone.

Tomorrow is a new day.

I feel so starstruck right now.
So awed at the World waiting outside of where I live.
So privileged that I got a taste of a World I could only dream of.

Lakme Fashion Week was like a dream come true.
Sky high heels, beautiful silhouettes, famous designers, celebrities, wine and cheese parties.
It was all larger than life.
Way too much if you ask me and very little at the same time.

I knew this isn't a once in a lifetime experience.
I knew that I don't want to be a silent spectator, viewing the lives of the rich and famous from the eyes of the media.
I want to be them.

Nor do I want to simply sit in the audience watching designers after designers display their collection.
I want to be able to get on to that ramp and take a bow after the models walk the ramp in my creations.
The instant I sat in the hall on the first day, I knew I wanted life to give me a chance to live like this.

For a while now I've felt a little hopeless.
I know I'll be a Journalism student next semester and it makes me really happy.
I guess it's what I have wanted to do since I got my first star in fourth grade an essay I can't remember.
It's the thought of what I want to do after graduation, that's been keeping me awake.

I'm so glad I have found my calling now.
The mere thought of it fills me so much excitement.
That's exactly how I want my life to be.
I want to wake up everyday waiting eagerly for what the day has to offer me.
There is so much learn.
There is so much to do.
I never want to stop being a student.