I've changed the look of my blog and I think the new look says so much more about what my blog's all about.
What's that?
I have no idea.
Here's how it all happened.
When: 14 June, 2011
Where: My room. Between my bed and TV.
How: With a lot of enthusiasm.
I was ill and had bunked my Yoga class. But then I got so restless and thought it was time to change my blog header. I started out with a few ideas and all of it changed along the way.
Refreshments, prop supplier & encourager: my mother.
The idea:
I wanted to fake a mid-air shot.
So I got dressed up in the first outfit that fell out of my cupboard and dragged Akshaya away from her MBA homework. That wasn't hard.
Then I made myself lie on the floor and played the role of Art Director/ Control Freak (according to my sister).
The Shoot:
I made Akshaya arrange my hair while I was lying on the ground into little twirly designs which I thought gave it a Tim Burton-ish feel. Basically anything unusual/ weird falls into that category.
Next, I arranged my skirt to look the way it does in the photo. I love this skirt of mine. I call it my cow skirt.
The challenge was in getting Aku to climb the ladder without hitting the fan. The ladder was a little wobbly which made her a slightly nervous photographer. Luckily, right then my curious grandmother stepped in. She was immediately appointed as ladder holder.
Of all the questions that she could've asked me, she said "But how are you reading with your sunglasses on?"
Ummm.
Answer: it was a blank page.
Ten minutes later:
Pictures were transferred. One was randomly selected and photoshopped.
Voilà!
Hope you had as much fun viewing it as I had making it.
Pointless projects like these are always the most fun.
The first time I can remember appreciating art was probably at the age of 5 when I visited the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam. What few people know is that Van Gogh sold just one painting during his lifetime and became incredibly famous only after his death. Sad.
But for me, back then Van Gogh's Sunflowers was the most famous painting in the world.
After admiring it in the gallery, I got back home and tried to recreate it and what I painted according to me was exactly like Van Gogh's.
And my parents agreed.
I was 5 years old then and I believed them.
I really thought my art was 'wow' till I went to Art school and was surrounded by people who thought their art was wow too and didn't feel all that special anymore. I did learn a lot though and luckily managed to graduate from college without any of the 4 dreaded art school looks.
- The goth makeup look.
- The penniless artist with a jhola look.
- The I don't look into the mirror before I leave my house look.
- The I decided to go bald cause that's what girls in art school do look.
Today Art is a lot more than just painting for me.
It's anything from a paper fold to a sculpture or a photograph to even a Google Doodle.
In India, the word ART is synonymous with one of our most celebrated artists M.F. Husain.
He passed away last week on 9 June at the age of 95 and was said to have been painting till about a week before that.
Was he special. Yes, to India he sure was.
When I think of M.F. Husain, 3 things come to my mind
1. That he loved painting horses.
2. He always had a Bollywood actress as his muse.
3. And he always walked barefoot (even in a city as filthy as Mumbai).
I never had the priviledge of meeting him though even if I did I don't know what I would have said to him.
He happened to be a good friend of my grandmothers back in the day and he gifted my parents a work of his for their wedding.
Generous he sure was. He was said to have done that a lot.
Newspapers for the past few days have been filled with articles about him by writers, friends and even just people who appreciate art.
What I noticed in most of those articles is that he's been given the title of Picasso of India. Even Wikipedia says so.
I disagree.
Why couldn't he just be Husain of India?
Why should one artist be compared to another when Art is something that's so subjective and so personal?
M.F. Husain was M.F. Husain and there will never be another.
My day started in a not so good way.
With AC repair guy (who didn't fix anything).
Followed by Apple service guy (who changed my whole hard disk).
A quick mango break to ease the pain of technology breakdown (4 mangoes makes that happen).
Followed by internet guy (changed my modem because the lightning blew it up).
Followed by Apple guy (who came to tell me he has to change my motherboard next week).
Now Apple service is awesome. Never has anyone followed up like that.
Apple guy - not so awesome. He dirtied my screen from the inside (genius!) and now I have to wait for him to re-visit just to open my screen for quick cleaning.
If all this wasn't bad enough, while eating lunch, a tiny piece of papad got jammed into the roof of my mouth. I'm not being a drama queen but papad felt more like a knife. I couldn't really help myself for a very long time after trying to stick the torch in my mouth and be my own dentist. I was contemplating pulling out my 4 front teeth (more realistically, taking a strong painkiller). But, it was hard to help myself with tears rolling down my face while my grandmother thought it was the funniest thing she has seen all day.
Then, one of my doctor friends came to my rescue. Relief!
I am so angry with papad. Never eating it again.
It feels like today is just not my day.
I don't know if I believe in black cats crossing my path as unlucky.
But, honestly it feels like the black cat decided to give me a big hug this morning.
my own exaggerated superstition
I did manage to have an invigorating Yoga class which seemed to be the turning point of my day.
Maybe the countless up-dogs and down-dogs scared the cat away.
Hoping Hakkasan is the happy ending to my non-fairtytale like day.
My mind is usually overcrowded with thoughts that I conveniently manage to empty out into this blog.
Today I decided to take my mind on a little vacation and there's only one thing that's on my mind.
Just Noodles.
A postcard from Wagamama, London
What about you?
I'm getting my fill at the newly opened Hakkasan tonight. Finally!
I ditched my reservation last week to watch Rafa-Fed kill it at the French Open.
Hoping it has Ipad menus like Royal China - as pointless as they are.
My beautiful computer has crashed.
I bought it a year ago thinking it was the one to have.
The one to never let me down.
Indestructable.
Something like the Titanic.
But then it turned out to be a lot like the Titanic.
The iceberg has hit my hard disk.
My sweet brother-in-law has given me his computer to use while mine recovers.
If only giving it a blanket and a lot of TLC would do the trick.
This Sunday I will post my first Thank you note. I wanted to jazz it up on Photoshop.
Unfortunately my temporary computer has nothing more advanced than Paint.
Oh well! Back to the basics.
Moral: An Apple a day does not keep the doctor away.
When I speak to anyone and need to refer to myself as something, I'm not quite sure whether to call myself a girl or woman. Most girls my age seem to be getting married and automatically fall into the older woman/ adult/ sometimes "aunty" category.
While growing up that category to me was characterized by 3 things:
- owning a lipstick collection (generally of shades of maroon)
- drinking tea (more than once a day)
- wearing salwar kameezes
Touch by MAC - my one and only lipstick
- I own only 1 lipstick, which I bought only to wear at my sister's wedding since it was too big an occasion to wear strawberry lipbalm.
- I don't drink regular milky tea. I have always only consumed half a cup at a time that too by dunking either biscuits or buttered bread (items which are capable of soaking up the tea resulting in me never having to actually sip it). And green tea = flavoured water.
- I only wear salwar kameezes to weddings if I have nothing else that's appropriate enough to wear. My mother thinks my choice of clothing shows regressive behaviour. Oh well!
I've always loved writing all kinds of notes.
- with grocery lists - for my mother.
- things to do lists - for my mother, grandmother, sister and myself.
- i love you notes - to family, boyfriends.
- just thought I'd say hi letters - mostly to my sister. I surprise her by leaving notes in her cupboard.
Ask my family. They've received tonnes of them over the years.
Infact I began writing these notes way back when I was in school. But, my mother found it highly annoying when I wrote her a note with questions to ask my teachers about me at the Parent-Teacher meetings at school.
Recently, after my sister's wedding, we thought why not send Thank you cards to all those who came. I just needed an excuse.
So, when I saw this website by Leah Dieterich I thought thank God for others who love writing silly notes. And she even managed to turn it into a book.
I was watching the French Open last night. I watched Nadal beat Soderling. Soderling was a strong competitior but was having a bad day and all he had going for him were his cute dimples. Nadal on the other hand pulled his underwear out of his butt after every two mintues and made countless number of monkey-like expressions. But, I heart Nadal. Way to go!
Wish I could've been at Rolland Garros. What a time to be in Paris.
Two of my friends live in Paris - Smita and Nam. Probably wake up and eat baguettes everyday.
I love French food. Mainly because it is covered in butter - such a beautiful thing in such a happy colour. Everything is avec Crème. Crème brûlée, Crème caramel. I think the French even go swimming in Crème.
In 2005 I went on a holiday to France with my sister and mother. We ate croissants (don't know if I'll ever say it right) and even Escargot (boneless meat that's easy to eat), and salmon before, during and after every meal. Everytime Aku and I ate Camembert we could feel firecrackers going off in our mouths. It has that certain Je ne sais quoi. You'll know when you're eating it. And we enjoyed saying it with our fake French accents just as much as we loved eating it.
There were also others that stuck on for a lot longer. Till today we say Weefee for Wifi. It's just more fun that way.
They even say Mc Do for Mc Donald's. How cute is that?
Before I learnt French, these are the few words I knew:
Papier mâché - I love craft.
Vol-au-vent - One of the dishes my mother makes for me on every birthday.
Petit four - the mini desserts I always love to buy (at Candies).
S'il vous plaît and Merci beaucoup - because I mind my p's and q's.
Croque-monsieur and Crepes - cheesy and yummesy. Pot-pourri - it's so pointless but I'm so glad it was invented.
Au gratin - the way I like it.
Agent Provocateur - because I follow fashion.
When I was 15, I learnt a bit of French at the AllianceFrançaiseclass and then studied it for 2 years in College. Here we learnt about La Sorbonne (I love saying Sorbonne for some reason), Arc de Triomphe & the Centre Georges Pompidou. I also learnt that the word Ananas is the same in Hindi and French. Incase you don't know, it's Pineapple.
It was fun doing the whole je suis, je m'apelle. Didn't quite make it to je t'aime. I figured that it required a couple of more years of learning to understand its proper use.
My friend Mallika went on to study French (higher level) and even mastered the art of having a Tête-à-tête with a Marathi accent. Only she can boast about such rare talents.
Two of my friends are backpacking through Europe at the moment. I'm so jealous. I just received an email from one them.
He says "Paris is cold, the people are cold, the vibe is cold & the women are not hot". I guess all they can do is enjoy the food really. And maybe the Sienne.
But, France did have its Belle époque. With Art déco and Art Nouveau.
I'm a big fan of everything that's Art but, I'm not a fan of the Louvre. Yawn. I thought the Mona Lisa was overrated. Or did I miss something?
But France has definitely got some things going for it.
Like the Moulin Rouge - the show not the movie.
Or one of my favourite movies - Amélie. I wish I had written that story.
Or French Onion soup - the oceany broth that never disappoints.
The Monaco Grand prix and the Cannes film festival - for entertainment.
Or simply coq au vin - because I am that immature that just saying the name makes me giggle.
I love the language because it sounds so beautiful.
But, more so because it's hilarious when Indians try to speak it.
As much as I say it right when I'm referring to the city, when I'm talking about the biscuit I automatically say Mon-ack-oh.
If a planet was to be dropped, it should've been Uranus, I mean seriously, who ever came up with that name?
I'm sure the Mnemonic's going to change drastically in the next 10 years. I recently read online about it having already changed to something random. They decided to add 3 dwarf planets and had a contest for the best mnemonic. Blah!
I've always found planets to be intimidatingly beautiful things. I didn't want to use the word things. They seem too large to be called things. Do you get what I mean? But what's the right word? Celestial Body sounds way too complex.
I was watching Juno the other day and found it very funny when she called herself a planet. I guess when you're bursting with pregnancy, you actually do look like one.
So, if you're interested in looking like a planet, you know how to do it.
And if you're more ambitious and want to look like the Milky Way galaxy, just go shopping in the wedding section of any store. For some reason, people think it's cool to stick Swarovski crystals all over your clothes.
