Picture Perfect - August 2014

I was contacted by a pleasant toned girl, named Sarbani, a while back, who had a couple of really broad based question to ask me - about myself, and the passions which have driven me thus far. Well, I answered those questions, and this frame happened. Its nice and yellow, and what makes me absolutely ecstatic is that this picture features in a campaign which as some very famous names of twenty-something persons doing stellar work in their respective fields. And these fields, of course, were those determined by their warm hearts and not cold conventions. 

Here is the description to this photo - 

Driven by her passion for writing, Saumya is the content strategist at Drizzlin. She loves the world of written words. But according to her, this field is not seen as professionally sustainable.

While she struggled to make it big in IAS exams, writing stayed with her like an undying passion and today, with close to 2 million hits on her blog, and being published in 3 separate genres of books - she can confidently claim joy and peace.

I wish more power to all those trying to heed the call of their heart. Dream Big, Begin Right away!

Thanks for the recognition, The Education Tree! 

Picture Perfect - January

This year did not start for me on a particularly good note, but that is the subject of an altogether different post. Here, I want to introduce you all to the point where it turned around, where I figured that blessings currently in my life are such that any and all hurdles can be overcome, must be overcome. Random elation greeted me on an excited phonecall when a dear friend, confidante, elder, mentor (and so much more), told me he had made my portrait! The element of surprise did not end here; it heightened when I realized that the portrait is actually a magazine collage - and a trusted expert told me this activity requires both - skill and time. I still shiver with excitement when I look at it - and its the perfect picture with which I am resuming my monthly picture perfect posts. Here, have a look. Isn't it completely incredible?

The happiness continued, when upon my whatsapp window, knocked another artistic genius - another portrait, this time made out of tea leaves! Now. I won't say anything, but let you all have a look at it.

I am a happy girl. Narcissistic, yes, but happy too. Any words of gratitude for this grand gesture are too less. So I will shut up. And go to sleep. And bring to mind yet again all those factors which count as blessings in life. 

That Chocolaty After-taste

Dear PACH,

You have completely taken over my blog. Which should be fine, because in essence, you have actually taken over my life. You're grand, so grand that I am scared of sending a lot of letters to you. What if they get lost in your fan-mail? Are you promising me to hold them special, each word I write to you? Thanks. And I know you make the same promise to each name which associates itself with you. For all this warmth you show to a growing tribe of urban poets, I am proud of you. So proud.

The PACH #8 Invited - crafted by Aastha di and Sidhant Mago. 

A level up, each time. I am not even going to ask you now how you manage it. Lets both take it as a given. Lets also be clear that all this love that we have towards each other will stay, will grow and will spread to more hearts. Yes, more of those loving hearts connected with us last time - in manners so unique and new and pristine. Who would've known that PACH family would expand to over 50 members, all so soon! Its so incredible its crazy. But then, you're bored of this adjective, aren't you? Positively insane, lets adopt this for today.

Thats not all of us, but most of us. 

You're growing rich with all these emotions, dear PACH. Can you tell me how to handle them all at once? I mean, how do you react when a little, vivacious girl opens her heart to romance and its naughtiness with an understanding of relationships which leaves us flabbergasted? It was a Sunday she dedicated romance to, and it was a Sunday she made special for all of us staring at her with an open mouth, refusing to come out of the influence of those coveted love-filled moments. Mago said there are some poems you hear, and immediately wish you had written them. That silly little girl, Aavika, precisely turned out such a gem. At her age, how? And this 'how' will remain.

That cute, little show-stealer.

My twin came along a little late this time, to recite the verses which were her first. Do you remember PACH, this was the same girl who had gone on record saying that she cannot at all compose a poem, and hence even tried to stay away from you. But you, you managed to permeate to her creative inside, in which resided a poet who could give expression to both, love and angst. She shared them both with you, PACH. In that sense, you are lucky.

She is pretty, she is my twin, and the chain goes on...

Our latest tryst with you happened at the most pleasing and apt spot - the Kunzum Travel Cafe, that fabled place in Delhi which allows you to pay as much as you like for the lovely coffee, cookies and aromas they serve. Lets both admit, you and me, that Kunzum has been one of the best places we have met each other, and a host of other poets. Some things about you don't change, which are definitively looked forward to. One such thing is Mago's humour, which manifested in a poem we managed to sing along. His understanding and insight into feminine preoccupations is so perfect, that it leaves us in splits. Another such regular feature with you is a certain duet poetry performance, which leaves some hearts amazed, and yet more craving. These are the masters of poetry-dom. They rule over it with verses which are impossible to concoct, but effortless to connect with.

At the lovely Kunzum Travel Cafe - thankful to them for entertaining us at such short notice and tolerating us for such long hours. 

And then, there were these innumerable moments which I am living, reliving and enjoying each time I picture them on my memory-scape. Who do I share them with, if not you? Do you remember that song, 'Happiness'? Its one of those PACH moments I  which I tug onto with full force lest the melody and the message desert me. Lets not comment on the philosophy and ecstasy of Abhishek sir's contribution to PACH. Lets just gently savour the fact that a certain new addition has been made to the way you go about, and lets both fervently hope this guitar tradition continues. Talking of additions, how can you miss out on Aastha di's dialogue with God, which began at your seventh instalment, and attained culmination in the eighth. Her nervous excitement, and the care with which words tumbled out of her lips - don't you feel ridiculously special when people share such intimate, new aspects of their life with you? You must. Feel special, and stay innocent. Pretty please, always.

"Lay's ka packet hai, Happiness!"

Aastha di, with all her nervous excitement

Poets with round-rimmed glasses come and share their farewell musings with you and start crying on their own verses as well as those of others. I am, of course, talking of Sudhanshu. I have to admit, that his mention has an ulterior motive - it is to let you know a certain compliment he gave you behind your back. In his words, PACH, you are that which scratches old wounds, but then, you also heal them, you cause such tears to flow which carry negativity out, which purge some and comfort others. You don't just make us share tears and painful pasts, you also encourage dialogues on forms of poetry, 'Ghazals' being the subject of discussion the last time around. Aditya and Rohini shared some wonderful ghazals, and I was unfortunate to have missed out the latter's recitation. I also missed experimentation with Bangla poetry, but I am not sad. I know you will help me make up for it. Oh, by the way, you still have fan-poets like Nabila and Mukul who had you as their muse. Blushing, or growing vain? The former, I know.

Getting ready for a masterpiece to come our way. 

When we listen to those amazing lines. 

Among those many that thank you for reviving the creative spirit in them, I think Navin ji stands right in the front. Not only does he write the most amazing lines, but the way he recites them makes each listener's heart grow fonder. He said something about being unimaginably busy and yet wanting to share useless details with that one good friend, that loving presence. You know, this is a routine I follow, which he set in such beautiful words. For you, PACH, Navin ji does one more fabulous thing. He creates doodles as finely crafted memories from each session. You're lucky people spend time after you - drawing sketches, making posters, editing pictures - all because they want to do it, not because you ask them to. Again, when did you become so special to all of them? Kamal, Aaqib, Gaurav - they all are the fabulous people who help preserve your most special moments in exquisite frames. They should be given a nice chocolate next time, what say? Not out of my quota, of course!

The PACH #8 doodle. 

From realization of eradication of small pox, to a man traversing through life; from thirteen dimensions bestowed on a pillow to fascination with unrequited love; from meeting old familiar faces, to entertaining complete strangers for an entire day; from remembering Shail Chaturvedi to encouraging some unbelievable creative spirits; from verses written by ailing dads to poems sent by members living overseas - aren't you perplexed by the amount and the diversity you are able to subsume within yourself and yet be ready for more? I mean, you're still dreaming of those dizzying peaks which we all have to ascend to, right? I'll be there with you throughout, its a promise I don't even need to be consciously aware of. Meeting you was like falling in love. As days go by, I feel I am growing in love and also growing up in love - don't you feel the same?

Dobara, Chal Gayi!

Do you remember, I had claimed once that I already have my favourite PACH decided, while you were still in your nascent days? Well, that just changed. This one became very special. Not just for what I witnessed, but for the way I participated too. Rahul said that you can know more about a person through his poetry than anything else. I think I agree. You help me connect with myself too, in moments when I write those stoic paeans of love, or those dirges of what has remained in place of what could have been. You allow me to share all that heavy load with so many beautiful people. Few become pensive, few others shed tears. I maintain, shedding tears is good, it lets out so much of negativity. And then, the best thing, the realization that we share with each other because we trust each other. We love each other, of course, but trust - more important, for me. Not only during, but also before and after your six-hour-long stay, I had moments I am keeping with myself. Looking forward to you, and looking back at you. There is all this love I feel, that just stays. 

All set to recite.

Warmth. As the first signs of winters start raising their shy heads in our city, I am feeling this splendid glow from inside, this warmth, which refuses to go. It all seems normal, natural now. But I will never forget how if I step back and see it all, it seems like magic. People are going crazy after you just by hearing about you. Lets hope they all come to meet you the next time. Lets hope they too become a part of this magic you are casting on sleepy poets of the world. 

The colours I am gifted with. The moods too. 

I did not eat any chocolate this time while you were on, but I can feel the satisfaction of having gobbled up an entire Bournville, Cranberry flavoured, alone, which I earned, of course!

Just outside your nascent days.
Still revelling in your magical ways.
Living your memories like a sweet, chocolaty after-taste.

PS - What is also astonishing are all these bonds which have formed between all of us. I found a comforting elder sister here. Many others call PACH their family. And a family celebrates the happiness of its members. We celebrated the birthday of Aaqib and Pratibha this time, trying to make them feel special by some mad, last minute efforts. PACH, and all those who make it send them their best. We're all going to grow up together, right? 

Picture Perfect - December

I know its a little early for this post, but the above picture left me so excited, that I had to share it on my blog, as soon as I could. This was taken on a chilly Delhi afternoon in Aurobindo Market areas, where the flower vendor was still putting his shop together, and was kind enough to let two mad women get themselves clicked in the company of his beautiful flowers. The other mad woman is my friend Neha, who has been complicit in most of my crazy plans in the past few months. You will find her picture below.

There is another reason why for me to have put this picture up. A dear friend of mine, Gopan, found this picture inspirational enough to convert it into a Christmas gift for me. In a beautifully crafted mini-story, called "Memory of a Winter Morning", he has inserted this picture to add a visual glow. And, to be honest, with the story about a girl who sold flowers running in the background, I think this frame looks a lot prettier. A heartfelt thank you to him. 

To all readers of my blog, a Merry Christmas! You all deserve a special thank you for being with me on this journey upto a lakh views. I usually give you all flowers when I need to express gratitude. This time is no different. Roses, gladiola, lilies, carnations - look to my left and take your pick. Thanks for dropping by and leaving your valuable feedback. It feels nice to know that whatever I write is not for nothing, that there will be people who will read it, and also, perhaps, get back to me on it. You make me want to continue writing. Thank you all so much. 

And here is my pretty friend, with more flowers - Neha!

Picture Perfect - November

For this month, I am sharing the picture which remained my wallpaper for most of the month. I clicked this in early October, on one of my unique visits to Ajmer; unique because this trip signalled the close of a significant chapter in my life, it signalled the loss of someone very dear to me. Since I was a little kid, I have been visiting Mayo College - one of the best known institutions of our nation, where many a film-stars and politicians have accessed knowledge from - and I have always been enamoured by the pristine surroundings and the heritage buildings which define this place. I used to go their in summer holidays to visit my mamaji. The laidback, calm, and inviting warmth of my mamaji's house within this residential campus form few of my most prized memories of childhood. With mamaji, I gained knowledge of Hindi literature, of food and of Hindi cinema. He was the one who introduced me to Premchand, cheese omelettes and Manna Dey. All that love, care, guidance, unfortunately, is no longer with us. Mamaji left us, left this world sometime back, and I think it will take some more time before a lot of us accept the magnitude of loss we have suffered. I don't think I have been able to accept it till now. 

Wiping those tears away, here is my fondest click of the year - the building which Mamaji introduced me to, and which remains my definition of grandeur. 

Awe-inspiring

Picture Perfect - October

Not all sibling relations boast of expressiveness. However, all sibling relations do have an undercurrent of love flowing richly through their invisible interiors. This love does not raise its head always; in fact, this love revels in chiding, in taking digs at each other - even in openly refuting the existence of any such love! Softer sides are not for everyone to take pride in. That said, it is also true that this soft, loving side gets activated when one sibling sees the other get threatened, vulnerable or melancholic. Somehow, troubling our brother/sister is entirely our prerogative, isn't it?

The above ranting is to give preface to the most wonderful visual which my eyes grazed on this whole month. It was a post-birthday gift for my sister - and its only once in years I get this expressive towards her. I thought I should share it on my blog.

PS - The super-cheesy lines on this poster are not mine; they belong to Hartley Coleridge.

PS 2- I think sometimes we want to make our siblings feel better so that 'we' (only we and no one else) can regain control on making their lives miserable. Especially if its a younger brother/sister we are talking about. Isn't it?