Lady in my mind.

there was something about being a woman that always fascinated me. I would look at all those beautiful woman and admire them. I wished I had hair like that, I wish i could have their confidence. woman always seemed so happy.I always wanted to be a beautiful woman. I was 13 and that was the only thing I ever wanted. By the time I was 20, the passion was reaching at its peak I was not sure where did the beauty spring from but it seemed like I was not getting anywhere near the beauty lake.I wanted to be a woman and in my head it only corresponded with great looks. Do not get me wrong, I do not mean beautiful woman, I meant woman who thought they were beautiful. woman who felt they were beautiful. I wanted to feel that.


From a girl to a woman, I am still not sure if I will ever become one. If i will ever find that beautiful woman. I always thought of woman as a character from Chekhov's short story 'The Bet'. A woman with long curly hair, sliding back , lost in her thoughts! I wanted to be that woman. It was always comforting to know that one day, one day in future I might be that . I might be able to see that character in myself.

Now I stare at myself, sometimes I feel bad for the mirror, the amount of time I spend looking at it. Trying to find the sketch of that woman. I see my curly hair and keep thinking, did Chekhov have this in mind
Are we all supposed to have long hair, are we all supposed to be beautiful woman, are we all supposed to happy being a woman.

This is very abstract. Well it is supposed to be abstract. It was in my head and I tried painting and this was the outcome.

To the Dickens, Brontes and Austins : Miss the English landscape

I have never written anything about England . I stayed there for one year and hardly spoke anything about the life there. Maybe I was busy being anti-British. Or busy defending a fake patriotism that arose out of nowhere. There are times I think about England and there are things I miss about England.

The lovely countryside is something I'll always relate England with. Such wide green pastures of landscapes was a treat for eyes . I was never into appreciating natural beauty, but long stretches of greenery after sometime starts playing with one's vision. The way the leaves changed their colours ;the way seasons paved path for each other was something very beautiful. I was taught by my friends, not to fret about the long spells of rain. It made me realise the wonderful gift of having abundance of sun, which I never appreciated before. The first look of snow was one of the most beautiful experiences of my life. England will always be special in memory of snow.

The idea of travelling was at its best in England. The ease with which I could travel to any part of the United Kingdom, is something Ill always be grateful to the national trains. The sheer fact that I could even afford thinking going to Scotland for my birthday, is a luxury that England accorded me. It taught me a different sense of travelling. I am still a spontaneous traveler  but England taught me a sense of time and punctuality. Hate admitting this, but yes England taught me punctuality. I guess, one of the best virtues I could learn :)

I used to feel safe, as a woman that's something I had not experienced before. Being an Indian I am used to being on my guards all the time, But somehow I lost my guards in England, I am not generalising here, but there was this light sense of feeling, which was great. It was nice , not to be reminded that I was a woman all the time. It was nice to walk on the streets in odd hours of the day and still feel safe.

I did realise staring at the lovely landscape that it was perfect for DH Lawrence to write those classic novels or for Jane Austin to wind those lovely romantic scenes located in the middle of pastures. Wuthering heights found its greatest gift in the hidden countryside. Graham Greene had to be born in England to start his soul search.

And yes, to all the lovely dickens, brontes and Austins, I do understand why you wrote such lovely classics based in England. It has charm of its own.

An ode to the lovely time, Thank you England :)

The girl with shoes

she kept on walking as though there was no end, no destination, no line. She was walking with all her might, careful about every step she took, careful about the length of step. She was aware of the fact that she was walking. How many of us had that revelation in our lives, where we were aware of a simple act, that might just lead to the most important decision of our lives.

She had a long stretch of road ahead. It was dusty and had nothing but sign boards. She never understood why sign boards were used. did people actually look at them, did they ponder about the man who made them, did anyone take notice of the colours in them> If the answer was no, then what was the point. They just dictated the landmarks. people could have found that out by asking someone.

Why was there a sign board ?Shikha somehow was always busy with such important questions. she had these life changing decisions to make while walking.

She used to find her soul mate in her shoes. they had walked with her in different terrains. Her body had given up on her, but her shoes, never! She loved her shoes, they really fulfilled their purpose. Shikha liked the idea of objects fulfilling their purposes.

She still was walking, when she came across the Billboard. The woman in the board wore heals. shikha loved heals. there was something majestic about them. she could never find her soul mate in them, but she knew she would have fling with them one day. She thought about every object in the board. From the woman to the hair-pin on her head, everything was under scrutiny. so there were the glamorous shoes, the glamorous hair, the glamorous perfume, the glamorous clothes. everything was so perfect. then could not they put a smile on her face. she was so pretty, yet no smile. Did the objects in the board, fulfill their purpose. Not at all. She was again disappointed with people and their imagination.

She looked down on her shoes and smiled.
They were still smiling at her, she knew she could count on them. 

Mind-tree

DH Lawrence stared at the countryside and wrote for hours. JK Rowling scribbled her notes in a small, lonely cafe. They just stared at things and looked for inspirations around. there were no inspirations. There were people, there were moments. They looked and observed. They found things that other people never saw. they thought of things, that others laughed. They loved the things that were forgotten by people.


then why was I looking for inspirations outside, when it did not exist anywhere. I had to find a staring spot and get all imagination under one roof. I had to find the pen and the ink had to flow on its own. i had to create the canvas and the paints would create something. I had to trust my instincts and smile at life around me.

Artists were always misread and misunderstood. Somehow everyone wanted to understand them . there is always this desire to know, what exactly were they thinking, what inspired them, why did they write that, why did anyone feel that ?

every time Dostoevsky made a character feel lonely, I wanted to know the surroundings in which he sat, while writing that paragraph. I always portrayed it in my mind as a dingy place with no sunshine and dearth of hope. I wanted to know that he was sad . I wanted to know that his mind was disturbed and his characters did live their lives once, somewhere, in some part of the world.

when i write a story, i feel something and that instance that is the best possible outcome, if someone later asks me why exactly did i write that, i would not have anything romantic to offer.

was it the same for these great authors, was there no romantic tragic story behind the great characters of the world. was world as simple as it was portrayed! was all the romantic stuff just in our minds.

will it actually fizzle away if I ever touch them ........

My sassy girl Part 2

Having a life with a dog is something one always dreams of. I am not sure why exactly is this idea of dog is so romanticised. The idea of being loved, the idea of cuddling , the idea of taking care of, idea of taking responsibility everything is such a big thing, when it comes to a dog. We all believe that one dog will change everything.

I was meeting becky ( my Alsatian bitch) after 11 months, she was 1 year and 2 months old, so yes I had only spent the initial days with her. And I had loved every bit of those days. I was madly in love with her, the puppy , the sweet little adorable thing. I was pretty sure about my feelings, about my future with her. I had decided that I would like to grow old with her. and then I went away. Seeing her after 11 months was shock. She had become HUGE, the puppy had outgrown me, she was no more a kiddo, she was damn smart and she remembered me, something Ill always be thankful about. But my girl had grown up. she was just different.

She did not cuddle with me, cmon she is a german shepard , she had better things to do. she did not listen to any of my commands, she was a German Shepard and that too a spoilt one, so it was the other round. I was mostly running behind her, listening to her, following her orders, following her time table. my perfect life no more seemed perfect. It was not the way I had thought off. It was not romantic at all. all those books i had read, all those lovely movies i had seen. NOTHING. it was just simple. She was a dog and I was a human being. the relationship had boiled down to that.

But this is something, a big lesson that i learned, becky does not complicate life, she does not romanticise life. she lives her routine every day and she seeks happiness in her mundane life. I was expecting her to change my life, expecting her to perform miracles , I was expecting her to human. She was plain a dog and she did exactly what she knew.

She loved me, in her own way and she did nt have to prove it in any other way.
So Miss Becky for every mood of yours, for every bite of yours, for every sweet licking of yours. love ya.

Gramophone.........

 Its amazing having one's own gramophone, one's own records, and listen to 1980s songs!!!! it takes back to the world of music.... back to world of dreams... back to a place you dnt want to ever leave :)

The new love of my life :)

After the Key: Mockumentary by Unk

This one is called Jasmine in all moods possible. I actually like the fact that I am acting crazy in every shot possible.After staying in UK for so long, I think so I have started loosing my basic instincts, like anger, jealousy, greed and so on. No am not trying to sound like some ascetic here! am just stating the fact that I have been repressing my feelings most of the time, I have been too nice, too polite, too good and there are serious consequences with regard to this!
 this set of photos tries to capture me in perfect moods! moods i have so tried forgetting!

 So here I was trying to figure out why exactly am i trying to help this bespectacled guy in my life. He is irritating, mostly self obsessed and worse repeats the same thing atleast 20 times, this is a kind of talent that people need to acknowledge! anyways I was trying o figure out among my other innermost feelings, Y the hell was I trying to help him!

 And the answer seemed like because we were friends, and this was the point where I started loosing my patience. Friendship at such a big cost! There was a limit to things and there was limit to friendship too. sounds rude! well this is exactly what happens when one tries to hide emotions for such a long time, in my case it was 8 months! so yes I shouted at him, screamed at him, abused him in my mind alteast! and had a jolly timing making faces!( well evident from the pics)

And I wish I had stopped this social experiment, but no I had to go on! Cos I never thought these moods or to be precise these faces I was making was being captured by some smart ass!(in this case It would be winnie and david) so yeah, thank you guys!!!! it just helped me realise how much i missed these faces as well emotions!

 There was a time in this experiment where i was asked by the director : did i know why i was part of the project : honestly answer was : no idea, but i did say something fancy and then came the next question , did i know what was i doing in the project . and trust me i stared at him for a million light years ( that's how i felt in my mind) and i thought : really, what kind of question was that!!! but i gave him an answer : and that was : something to do with metaphors and am pretty sure, in that instance both him and I were confused.
But thinking about it now : maybe I do the answer : I was tired of this, was tired of this blankness, was tired of this silence and somehow this experiment gave me all the reasons to jump out and scream. and what was i doing in the project : I was trying to find both myself and him.

So Unk, This is a way of saying Thank you. It was great working with you and Winnie and David you just made me realise it was so much fun being idiots on camera ;)

My women in colours.

and I am finally about to reveal my first ever stint with painting brush. I must admit most of the work was done when I was depressed and the strokes of the brush were the only constant boredom I enjoyed! Its nothing great and honestly most of the work has been hurried to some extent. But still it feels good about painting. Just getting the colours on the paper, just getting the mood. just knowing the fact that I would like my woman to be coloured !

 There is a reason why my woman are of different colours, I dint want to restrict them in any colours. I wanted different bodies, different hair, different structures and I wanted all of them to be happy in their own bodies! so gave them colours!

Woman's Hysteria

Every time I look at a heartbroken woman, I sympathize with her, I even join her in bashing and abusing the man. I would not say I am proud of this act. But there is something tragic about woman in love, something tragic enough for me to call it romantic. The idea of loving with all your soul and then not ever getting this love returned. Yes, Yes, before I got slaughtered for being an anti-men feminist and writing an anti men article,I would just like to say : am about to write about woman's hysteria (an uncontrollable unleash of emotions), a madness that was once was made so famous by Mr. Freud. He was right : woman suffer from hysteria, and this time I call this hysteria : love.

Let me state my background : I had a long chat with my best friend : she always excites me, I see all my brain cells active and the best part : I see no point in hiding my inner most feelings , my thoughts, I go hysterical and funny enough she gets this language of mine. mind you, it is a very well developed language. You need to be a woman, and be aware of being a woman and capable of being a woman to posses this skill for this language. So here we were discussing, and all of a sudden , I started talking about hysteria. Madness, the tragedy of love, the so called passion of a woman in love.

My friend said something about a movie, that once touched my heart and soul.7 khoon maaf (7 sins forgiven), an Indian movie about female protagonist's quest for love that leads to a series of marriages, each ending in the mysterious death of her latest husband.According to my friend, in each killing protagonist was providing redemption to the men. She was saving them and she was only capable of true love,and she had to kill them to be truly honest to them. This thought obviously struck me. I had felt a great sense of grief after watching the movie. I was alone in the theatre and felt really helpless. I so wanted to tell the protagonist, she would not find this love. This is hysteria,where she would only get lost in her own language.

This theme again repeated in novels, Madam Bovary(French novel) and again in Anna Karenina(Russian novel). Both masterpieces had  protagonists who were affected by something supernatural. They were trying to find some love, that would fulfill this purpose of life. They were unmanageable and they had fits of emotions. They wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. They cheated on their husbands, had various affairs and were never ever happy. They were always turmoiled by their emotions, their lack of control on their emotions and their ability to love was uncontrollable to the extent that they were no more aware about what did they want in their life. They both committed suicide. 

It sounds all stupid, it does not make sense and it never seems possible . Hysteria was considered a major disease to the extent that it was supposed to be affecting woman during their menstruation periods and sexual frustration. 

But is it possible that these woman were actually in love and it was the sole reason for them to behave in this wild , mad manner? Obviously in all the above mentioned 3 stories, they ended either committing suicide or finding redemption in religion. They had to be saved from their diseases and the creators of the characters, did provide them with this redemption. But I want to ask something else, Y did they need the redemption, Y do characters like these end up with death? Y do woman who go mad in love, become a tragic love story? Y is that there was never a language for this hysteria ? Y was Freud so keen in curing these woman of their disease called hysteria ? 

I am not seeking for answers here. I am just trying to take an interest in a language which was lost in this disease called hysteria , I wanted to produce a thought to re-invoke this idea of love and madness without the contempt of mockery or pity. I do not want to be forgiven or saved. I want to be heard. 

Lost in Translation!

I never knew language could play such an important part of my life, never knew language would hinder my friendship, restrict my love affairs. prevent myself from growing. in short never knew i could only understand people who spoke my language. I am referring to the language we use on daily basis. the language we use to communicate what we feel .have you ever thought about, how restricted we are by this medium.


I have a good friend, who is Chinese. Its recently that I came across this issue of language as a barrier. she tries to speak in English and I try to learn mandarin. There might be hint of love and mutual admiration thrown in this, but we still struggle. After 8 months of staying together, yes we understand each other, but there have been moments when I see myself hoping that one day we would be able to talk in a language that both of us know. To communicate in a medium which would not limit our conversation. obviously the fact that English is the common language, does help a lot, but still, there have been instances where words have failed us. we just stare at each other or maybe each other's helplessness.


we could have been lot closer, we could have shared a whole new world, we could have explored so many different ideas. but we sometimes dnt understand each other, however hard we try. we are limited. and however hard we try, we are very well aware that, the other person is lot different from what we understand her to be.

it does hurt me to acknowledge the fact that, i might even love based on this language barrier, all this idea of true love would also be limited by my knowledge of languages. the love has to be expressed within this medium, and ill only be capable of understanding this expression of love.

this acknowledgement itself came at a high cost. the very fact that I had to struggle this far to make a good friend, kind of describes my situation. but there is an element of sweet romantic tragedy to it too. Ill be never be able to know my friend fully. Ill always have a limited picture of her. ill never know her completely . maybe i dnt have to . 

SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder)

Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD)

A word  that I was introduced to when I reached United Kingdom. I was given the rough idea, definitions and different clauses attached to it. Do not by perturbed by the acronym of the word, indeed there was something sad about this word.

SAD is a disorder that human beings go though when there is a change in weather, change in weather sounds so casual, so let me repeat myself here, When there is a drastic change in weather and weather tends to take major part of your life, your moods, your topic of discussions, basically anything that affects a life cycle. I would not like to include animals in this chain of victim hood as they are smart enough not to attribute too much of importance to a simple natural thing called weather. But we humans are different, so here I am discussing weather on my blog. Yes, I am finally getting affected by SAD.

When you get up in the morning, you see rain, some water drops falling of the roof top. That should sound poetic and beautiful . Now multiply that with every day of you life for next 3 months. Lets fast forward this : So I get up, see the drops and stare at the window, next day again I get up , see the drops and stare at the window. By the 14^th day, I would have stopped staring instead I would stop seeing the window and get up with a gloomy face. You should ask, Why? When ?> How ? Its a simple act of getting up, but I do not know and I would not like to know ( let the neuro-scientist and the consciousness camps work on this aspect) why a simple act of seeing rain , and mind you I have not even decided whether to venture out in the wonderful weather, spoils a persons mood.

And by end of 2 nd month, yes you would be depressed, and blaming the weather, taking all kind of self help books, resorting to all group activities and finally eating sweets and junk food. I like to think weather is working in favour of corporate world, it works in collaboration with the TNC, trans-national companies.That's the only reason I can see for this weird cycle of events.

So here I am blaming the weather, for all the bad things happening in my life. Since I am doing a simple act of blaming weather, one should always remember that one tends to exaggerate when one is suffering from SAD. Its funny and tragic at the same time.  

cities seen through my eyes...