Attitudes

I've always been a great believer that you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, but that adage as i am coming to terms with it, is an outdated one. Attitude rules. Being , rude, aggressive and bitchy is the norm rather than the exception these days.
Take for example the reality television show ON Air in India these days, BIGG BOSS, the Indian version of the BIG BROTHER, it rules the roost with its aggressive and crass behaviour and is generating many an eyeball and is the focus of many a lunch time conversations. Beeps outnumber the actual conversations and the devious, scheming, rude and aggressive contestants stay on in the house to well, continue using rude aggressive and devious methods against their fellow housemates. I sat through a couple of episodes riveted, unable to move and extremely curious about what would unfold next. I watched with voyeuristic pleasure when violence was bubbling among some of the contestants and smirked a sly smile when romance was in the offing..but I watched.
A similar situation is there in today's workplace. A place where egos are inflated and importance is often a misplaced notion. Colleagues would think nothing of pilfering other people's work and passing them off as their own. They would gloat about their ability to get away with it and be part of the dirty office political cesspool. I see a huge difference in the quality of talent we hire. Most people come through influential "recommendations" and have very little or nil talent to show for it. In the end its all about making yourself be seen and heard using any kind of means to do it.
Gone are the days when hard work and sincerity paid. A Good Morning, Hello and Thank You are of the dark ages. A smile or a helping hand or genuine humanity is hard to come by and instead back biting, plotting and underhand duplicity is on the rise. Many a days when i drive back home, i wonder what to teach my daughter. When push comes to shove, how will a smile or a thank you or sincerity help her along? How can she remain immune in an violent world where school kids don't think twice about pulling the trigger and success is measured by the "connections" your father has.
I am pulled between wanting to do the right thing and not lose my soul and yet wanting to taste success too. But I still want to be able to sleep at night knowing that my smile may have lifted the spirits of someone like me and spread some niceness in an otherwise aggressive world

Mommy diaries: Preparations

Mommy diaries: Preparations

Preparations

Now, the one thing that's been taking precedence in my life the past 3 years has been Tia. She's all i can think of 24x7, which is a good thing in a way, but when the opportunity to attend a family wedding presented itself to me, i jumped into it wholeheartedly. It was my mission for the month to get organised, get all dolled up and buy clothes and gifts for Tia, mom and the bride to be. I became a local at the swanky Saree shops in South Ex and was buying clothes and shoes in every hue and shade. I scoured the markets for traditional wear for Tia and eventually decided to get it tailor made for her instead. I bought matching lace for her outfits, matching tights to wear underneath, and matching hair accessories. The local boutique tailoring our clothes probably whooped a secret hooray each time it saw me walk in through the doors carrying armloads of new clothes to be made. I got my blouses altered to fit me(because i can no longer fit into the blouses made 8 years ago), and then i went all out getting my jewels out and buying more stuff to match the newer outfits.
After all this came the turn to buy gifts for the bride-to-be. I wanted to give her a dream gift and wanted to personalise the items bought. Each day after work I would painstakingly shop matching/coordinating items for her. Somedays I would buy a bag or some accessories to compliment a new bride. I'm currently running out of things to do and to be more honest, money to spend. My excitement about the preparations has made this trip seem larger than life. I know I'll get withdrawal pangs when the wedding is over, I know I'll miss the shopping after the last of the gifts has been handed over and the last outfit worn. I know that the journey will hold its own special place in my heart and as i count down each day to my trip to the homeland...I know that this will be a very special trip indeed...one in which all of my loved ones will celebrate the togetherness of the big chaotic dysfunctional but immensely caring family that is all mine

Colours

Now if anyone asked me my favourite colour, I would probably laugh out loud. How can I have a favourite colour? How can I describe the depths of the blue I love or the ripples on the scarlet that catch the light? How is it that blue and green look so hot together? Why do magenta and orange compliment each other? 

I don't know.....it is a thing I feel. I can sense the colour that would work on a certain design, I can visualise it in my head, seeing it in the tones and hues I imagine it to be.  The range of color is vast and varied, full of tones, subtleties, saturations, variation and nuances. There is a color for every kind of dreamer, for every kind of situation. 

Colour varies with seasons, with time, with moods, with experiences ...with the world. Its an innate abstract notion of a finite hue. It could be an ochre sky, a chrome sunflower, a zesty lemon or a rich creamy yellow. It could have the shine of a peacock feather, the brilliance of azure or the jar of cobalt blue. It could have the lushness of a rainforest, the strength of the trees, the freshness of dew drops on the immature grass and yet it would be called green.

How can one describe the sparkle of an emerald or the blue of the boundless sky? Why is it that white is considered bridal in the West but inauspicious in the East. Why is purple the royal colour and why does brown lack so much character? I don't know, but I know that I can feel colour within my self. I can weigh it, I can touch it, I know whether its coarse or smooth, hot or cold. I know in my heart if it would work in an artwork. As for my favourite colour...its as varied as the seasons, as brilliant as the spectrum and as mundane as all the colours put together.

something to write about

Its been a really really long time since I wrote. Mostly I just did not have the time and when I did, then I could'nt think of something intelligent to write about. Its interesting to read other people's blogs. Everyone seems to be doing so many things at once. Their days are packed and they have so many experiences to write about. Me on the other hand lead a pretty mundane routine. I wake up, brush my teeth, shower and go to work. At work I try meeting deadlines, I try to get my creative calling to come through and try to be as focused as I can possibly be. Then I head back home , where I am welcomed by the toothy grin of my 17 month old baby, who is such a bundle of joy and energy that her smile and her ways just lift me up. She's a mommy's girl through and through and through and to be honest I really like it. I love the ma-ma chants, I love the tiny fingers that clasp mine, I love the way she wants to snuggle with me at night and wants to see my face first thing in the morning. In the middle of the night, i love to breathe in her baby scent, I love feeling her warm soft fingers in my palm and I can spend hours gazing at her serene face. Is this what people write about? Is this the bone crushing love that I feel called being a mom. I don't know. I don't know if what I am doing is right or wrong. I dont know if my actions today will make her a better person in her future, but i hope that the time i spend with her, warms her heart and keeps the warmth glowing for the rest of the years.
My life pretty much centers around my daughter. In fact my husband accuses me of being obsessed with her sometimes. I dont think i am a person who can balance things quite so easily. I am a pretty volatile girl and I love extremes. I can eat till I burst, go on an all out shopping binge and love and hate with equal intensity. I love to dream and dream some more. I can dream entire sequences and events in my head in pure visual relief. Its this power of visualisation that is what helps me be a better artist and yet stops me just short of being delusional.
Strange that I was wondering a while ago about what to write about!!! I took a deep breath, shifted myself to a more comfortable position and began to think again......My mind is wandering now...its travelling, I can smell the ocean breeze, feel the crunchy salty air in my mouth.....I so crave a relaxing vacation, I so want to just close my eyes and breathe....

Changes

I can be philosophical and say that the only thing constant is change...but I'm not going to do that. Change sucks. Change means going outside of my comfort zone, shaking up the familiar and being presented with the unknown. I'm not big on change. In fact I am a creature of routine, a person of habit who loves structure. I like my eggs sunny side up, I drive on the extreme left lane of the road, I love my threadbare pajamas at night and i love ordering the same things from the menu when i go out to eat. Change means making decisions which i am not familiar with. It means quick processing, thinking and action...all of which is too cut and dried for my artist's mind to absorb quickly.


I react like a spoilt child when it comes to change. I resist with all my might, i rant and rave and make the other person feel guilty and try all kinds of emotional blackmail techniques to revert to the old all familiar routine...but if even that fails...i sulk and sulk and make myself miserable with worry. Recently my most comfortable and familiar routine was shaken to the core.


Yogi and I have been the best of friends and colleagues for the past 10 years. We started off sharing work and then went on to become best of friends and then sharing our lives together. We make such a good team that everyone i know envies us...but recently he has made a really good career choice and has moved on to another job and will be moving to another city too. I tried to resist for my sake but seeing the opportunity present itself it was hard to say no. I had to give in although reluctantly. For the first time in a long long while i am on my own, making decisions, driving, eating and working all alone. But to be honest i don't like it one bit.

Independence be damned...I want my old routine back. its hard to let go. its harder still to go forward and not look back over the shoulder for the hundredth time! Its hard wishing for the time i cant have now. Maybe yogi and i will work together soon....but i miss turning to him every time asking him about his ideas or sharing design tips with him. Maybe distance will make the heart go fonder...maybe my dusty wings need some polish....

Maybe this change will be the best thing that has happened to both of us, only time will tell, but in the meanwhile i miss the old and the familiar. I miss my best friend.

fathers and daughters

What is this special relationship that fathers and daughters share? What is the bond, the unspoken yet unmistakable cosmic connection that binds them together? What is it that makes the mother feel like an outsider and at times, torn between tenderness and jealousy?
My daughter has made her preference for her daddy crystal clear. HE is the fun guy. He is the guy who lets her be a baby and encourages her to be as impish and naughty as she desires. She in turn loves the attention, loves the rough and tumble and loves being tossed in the air amidst squeals of utter delight. Come to think of it, I've been my daddy's girl too. It was his presence that I would always seek out no matter how much my MA tried to be there. It was him I would complain to when I was scolded. It was him I turned to financial advice and it was his approval I sought in all aspects of my life and in most of my decisions. My mother probably felt like I am doing now. Always there but never fun enough.
I took her presence, her love, her sacrifices and her approval for granted just as I feel my daughter doing the same with me. My baby is too young to know about what she is doing but life does have a funny way of coming FULL CIRCLE!
When I see father and daughter interacting, I feel like an outsider looking into their world. I am always hovering around trying to fill her stomach, quench her thirst, clean her grubby hands or cushion her fall. In my lap she sleeps at night but she runs to the door with outstretched arms when daddy walks into the door. Her face lights up and her 1000 watt smile dazzles me when she looks at her daddy adoringly.
Will she make silly cards for her daddy when she is in kindergarten? Will she seek him out when she lands at the airport? Will he be the first person she calls when she gets a raise? Will she call him incessantly if he is late coming home from work and will his presence calm her in times of crisis? Its a connection I cannot explain, its a connection I share with my father and i hope my daughter feels the same way. The love a mother and father give to the child is special as it is varied. It is intense yet different. A mother is considered special for all that she does for her but it is the father that bridges the gap and lends a helping hand in shaping who she is going to be...
HAPPY FATHER'S DAY