Vines up the windows. As many windows as possible. The smell of freshly baked muffins in the air. Surrounds the place like an aura. A garden, with seasonal flowers and fruits. Chairs out on the porch, for that occasional (or not) dinner outside. A barbeque?

The living room. The life of the house. With a piano and a fireplace. Cushions piled high. Books strewn about, from that evening when everybody was reading to themselves, to each other.

Island kitchen. The family eats food in the kitchen itself, with its vintage windows and cabinets. Space. So much space. A wine rack, a blackboard wall. Shopping lists and to-do lists and reminder lists on the blackboard wall. Berries on the counter. Blueberries, raspberries, berries. Cream in a jug. Cookbooks on a tiny shelf. So many of them.

Window landings. All those window landings, with tiny nooks. Nooks to read, sketch, write, talk, look out the window and dream. Cushions in the nooks, so one can fall asleep accompanied by the sound of the wind and enveloped in the smell of the night’s flowers. In the moonlight.

Stairs, the steps of which need to be repaired often. The collection of videos and records in the shelves under the stairs. A home for the books.

French windows in the bedroom, opening to a tiny balcony with seating just for two. A tray of half eaten cookies on the small table. When the moon comes up, it looks as if the entire room is cloaked in silver silk. A low bed, a comforter. Photos on the wall behind the bed.

A room on the side, with light flooding in from every direction. A clean desk, a laptop, and stacks of papers. Ink pens with so many colours of ink. Turquoise and indigo and wine red. Every single available part of the wall covered with inspiration pictures, post-its from last night’s brainstorming. Words, so many words scrawled over so many papers. A love affair with words.

Colour swatches and material boards. Florals and weaves. Every texture, every colour up on the walls. Places and spaces one can dream all day about. Boards pinned up neatly, with barely one corner visible because first the sketches were pinned around them, then came the designs and then the swatches. The samples and the shade cards. The love, and the pride.

The room for the children? I don’t know much. The walls all chalkboard covered, up to 3 feet from the floor. Every single one of them covered by wandering minds. Stars and skies on the ceiling. A wonderland of bedsheet tents and cushion mountains. Open windows. I know that much.

A home. Conventional in so many ways and unconventional is so many other ways. But regardless, a beautiful home. A place created to make memories in. Created only so one would have somewhere to come back to. Home.

I created this image as a result of a conversation which prompted the same. And it made me long for all the homes i have ever stayed in, and the one home i wish to always stay in. I realised how much of me defines this space. That this image is nothing more than me, pinned down in words. And i had the urge to ask everybody to create an image for themselves and show me. If you did not have to bother about the practicalities of it and did not have to worry about how you would finally create it, what would your home be like? What do your eyes see? Show me every detail, every flaw and every dream. Let me see you, stark naked. See what is inside of you. We might realise how similar we are or how different. We might not realise anything at all. Show me your home.


Day 30 #100Happydays

WP_20150504_001I have never been much of a software person. rather technologically challenged. The hand speaks to the pen, and on paper, a story is created. My brain has never been able to wrap itself around the beauty of that.

But when you have to, you have to. Hence the wacom. It is bliss!

Day 29 #100Happydays


This boy.

You wonderful, beautiful, loving, whacked-in-the-head bubble of energy!

Going to Ahmedabad means a week of pure effortless bliss because of you. Look where we are now. We sat and wondered if we should be doing this project in the same city. We tried real hard too. And then opportunities happened. We knew that distance wont make a difference, but regret will. We agreed to be in a relationship with our laptops, phones and skype. We promised to share every single detail, so our lives would not be apart even when they were apart. It was scary, most things are in the beginning.

But look where we are now. We manage to live apart and together at the same time. To fight, cry, love, laugh, exist, go away and come back, everything in spite of and along with the distance. When we do meet, it is like we never left. Every day has always been better than the last, and it always will be.

Of all the things i have written for you or about you, this is probably the least sentimental one. But this is just to tell you, i am so proud of us. And you never need worry.

P.S. its about time we got a photograph we are both extremely happy with, and looks candid, with neither of us looking like the strange beings we are.

Day 28 #100Happydays


This was some two stations before ahmedabad. I was sitting and gazing out the window at the passing countryside.

Honestly, does this picture need many words? Wonder when these coaches must have stopped running. Was it around the same time that the beam on top of the shade started rusting? Did they decide to stay together and age gracefully? All the supposed flaws in this picture come together to make the most beautiful image. It is pregnant with stories. But look there.


Words. Moonlight.

Look out the window. Watch everything fly past. Its beautiful, its gone.

Write drunk.

Write everything, nothing.

Look, think. And when you want to hold onto what you think, it flies away.

It is angry, upset, and unhappy. Let down but aloof.

You look at it, and then you want to hold on. When you try to hold on you look away. It flies away, unhappy.

You look back and its still there, but not so.

Look again, look far far away and look for a while. It will come back to you. And maybe when you look intently, it will stay.

Moonlight. Pure, serene, unadulterated. Cloaking, spreading and holding.

Space, constriction, boundaries.

There is widespread, free and pure outside.

There is a boundary, lack of space inside.

Everywhere you move there is something. You cant get up, you cant sit straight. You can lie, but lie still. Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around?

Isn’t the inside, at least, required to remain free of boundaries?

Escape. You know you want to.

Light falls and passes. Real, unreal and ethereal.
Words on a page. The keys on the keyboard. The ink flows on the paper and creates your existence. Mine.

It creates everything as it moves. The mankind and everything about it. The past, present and future. What we know for sure, and what we believe in.

The ink.

Like moonlight. Writes the script of the world. Whatever it touches becomes something that exists.

Don’t read, don’t think. When you write, you don’t think and don’t read. Let it come out. When the words are coming out of your head in something that doesn’t even make sense, that is when they are the purest. That is when it is the truth. And you don’t need to pause until you feel exhausted. Drained and fulfilled at the same time.

Now it is down on a paper. It will not fly away from your head. now maybe it will make sense, maybe it wont. But it is somewhere. It exists.

The beautiful, fleeting and present moonlight. Look around you. You are in a womb filled with pure silver light. And it is endless. You will stay.

Let me out.

Day 27 #100Happydays


I left for ahmedabad that day. And for some strange reason,  i had been feeling ominous throughout the day. I wondered if my gut was telling me not to go. Why though? Ahmedabad is a place i love. I get to meet the people I love. I wait for he week when i will get to go to Ahmedabad. Why then, did I feel so strange?

I went anyway, of course. And when I looked out the window of the train at night, I saw the moonlight. I tried writing something. But you know God gave human beings the planet filled with wonders, and then dared them to create a language which could describe it. The human beings failed.

Day 26 #100Happydays


So i will be honest here. One of the times when i realise i did not remember to capture a happy moment. I catch myself wondering if i even had any. In that moment, i look around for anything that seems to suffice. And this beautiful tree with pale pale leaves, is it!

I think that because we live in such constricted spaces with little allowance for interaction with nature, we turn to creating a beautiful piece of it in our tiny space. And because we know how rare it is, we try harder. At least that is how i would want to keep thinking about it.