The big fight.

“I love those who can smile in trouble, who can 
gather strength from distress, and grow brave by reflection. ‘Tis the 
business of little minds to shrink, but they whose heart is firm, and 
whose conscience approves their conduct, will pursue their principles 
unto death”

—

Leonardo da Vinci






Do you believe in you? Ask yourself. Its an odd question. Rather abrupt. However, think about it. 


The world will drag you down, make no mistake. It might just plummet you, pound you and leave you broken. But that is when the self comes in. That is when they know if you're strong. The world will hate your guts too. They pass by, indifferent to your burning passion, the alive enthusiasm that burns inside you. Its almost painful. But reality was never meant to be the icing in your cake. The icing is always a decoration....an extravagance. And extravagance is never what life really is. That world, nature...everything that works in this world...works with a pure primal function. Everything is mere need. Connecting each life form with another. The reason to awe nature is not how beautiful it is...but how everything is with purpose. The reason for existing is a basic function...which is acutely simple. Extravagance ...well is an added accessory. That we created. Because humans cant bear simplicity. Its a fact. 


The irony, however, enters the picture when you study in NIFT. 
This is the one place on earth...where extravagance flourishes. It doesn't matter if you're extravagant or not...that's what works. You dont have to be you. You have to be what you are expected to be. However, people if you've made it this far into this national institute of fashion, fighting through tons and tons of people...and entered this godforsaken haven of bittersweet...then turn your hearts into stone and put your mind to focus. They will give you a tough ride...so tough infact...that it's difficult to remain what you want to be. But thats the real fight. Not a 9.5 grade, not a best student award...but the fight is for the self. The fight is, like always, between your right and their right. 


Its not for the weak hearted to enter. It'll take you down so fast, you wont know what hit you. Survival is the major need here. Not just a physical survival...but an emotional one too. Keep your head up and your eyes wide open. Walk straight into them if you have to. But DONT budge. A few bruises here and there...maybe...but make 'yourself' worth fighting for. Believe.

White spaces

  

White spaces can be intimidating. Imagine a world with nothing but a vast expanse of white where you couldn’t fit in a preposition telling you whether you were ‘in’ ‘on’ or ‘under’ something. Just you and simple, overwhelming blankness.

What would anyone do with such suffocating emptiness? I?

I’d draw. 

The one thing I've learnt this summer. You should too.

I remember looking into the vary eyes of this old man who sat giving us this distasteful; totally unforgiving stare. I also remember, quite well, the discomfort I felt. It is like striding towards your humiliation and banging into it...a little too hard. 

"We just need 5 minutes of your time." I managed my sweetest possible tone.

"What will 5 minutes do? 5 minutes ain't doing you any good. You need to spend time for these kind of things." Pat came his reply and smack; I hit my head inwardly. One wrong step and we'd lose any chance of information out of him.

Mr. Hans Raj Dhiman, a miniature paintings artist, was our goal for the day. My Research project on the embroidery of a town called Chamba, turned out to be one of the most eventful times of my college days. I'm pretty sure I won't be forgetting this very soon. 

Today, as I sit back securely on a couch in my house and try and gather  the experiences I had there, its probable I might not be able to explain with as much an intensity as it was then. Perhaps, if I have to describe my trip to this small town, justly, I should be sitting in a room with termite infested matresses, surrounded by algae eaten walls covered in hideous wallpaper, a broken ceiling on our heads, tons of mosquito bites on my arms and a groggy head from too many antibiotics which fought off 'other' ailments like my sun rashes.

How many of us must know about 'Chamba Rumal'? I think I'm safe to guess a fairly low percentage of people who visit this page. It's alright, I'm not blaming you. Its art's nature to be secluded. I won't say I'm proud of that. Yet I also won't blame either you or art itself. However, it would not be difficult to decide who is to blame when I talk about it and you don't pay interest. Yes, I'm sorry about being firm, but I think it's time someone is.

I don't ask you to know the history. I also don't ask you to go into any kind of details. I only ask you to acknowledge it...to just know that it exists. To respect it as an entity...not to glorify it or any of that...but just to pay attention.

Chamba Rumal is a very interesting embroidery of northern India which is entirely based on miniature paintings of Hindu Mythology. Professional miniature artists first draw on the cloth before the workers start filling it with embroidery. Its not something utterly exclusive to look at in the pictures or the books, honestly. But if ever you get the chance of seeing it up close...let it open itself to you. Just for a mere 2 minutes let your attention be held. There will be tons of activity happening. An explosion of colour, movement, stories will overwhelm you. Let it. That might just be the closest you will ever get to appreciating art in its element. 

I being a design student, have never been much of an embroidery enthusiast myself. However, to see this strong, vibrant composition exploding in front of you, coming from people who haven't studied an 'a' of art all there lives and probably don't understand the bookish principles of design and aesthetic, is magic in itself. Imagine drawing a figure without once breaking a line. Imagine embroidering both sides of a cloth. Imagine being so fine with your needle every single finger of Krishna, playing his flute, is differentiable. 

There are 5 metre stretches of cloth with the Ram Lila, the Mahabharata, the Ramayana depicted in finely detailed embroidery. Imagine doing 5 metres of cloth 2 times. Both sides of the cloth identical. Thats like doing one painting twice. 

I do not expect you to go crazy about it, some might not even find it that interesting... I only encourage you to look at art the way it is. No need to be a critic...just look at it and try to see the labour...and most importantly the devotion. 

I distinctly remember Mr. Dhiman's face when I asked him what he thinks about the present scenario of Chamba Rumal. It had despair, again that familiar distaste in his eyes, yet a subtle confidence. His response was diplomatic. Yet that man did actually make us sit for more than an hour...and finally ended up showing us his old suitcase full of his old chamba rumals that he wouldn't let us take pictures of. The distaste seemed to have left his eyes for a while. He actually smiled. A victory was won. Chamba Rumal has hopes as long it has people like him around.

Small people in small shops...painting huge canvases. 

Alice In Vegas

FD-IVth semester, that is my class, prepared for the NID fashion show competition and brought out a collection for their theme "Alice in Vegas"

 the picture is of the final garment my two friends and I made.

Here's the write up I wrote for it.

MAD HATTER:  “Alice in vegas? Where’s the wonderland? What’s your story, missy?  Care to explain?”

ALICE: I ran and I ran, i don’t quite run so much. But i ran as fast as my legs could carry me. You see, mad hatter, I just had to know. What lay beyond those lines just like the rabbit hole.

I skipped my way through....wondering but not thinking. It was too dazzling to think....too bright to behold. I had to let go of what was me. The clothes that i wore seemed not to fit anymore...and I couldn’t help but drown in that sea.

They offered me wine and dreams. I took both. Hugged them hard and much too close. They hugged me back....enveloping my head. I felt drowsy and weak, a little slow in my tread. It felt warm all over...a pretty good feeling for a heavy hangover. I walked into bright lights and a world unknown, too puzzled to bother, too drunk to know. I walked into a banner....’Vegas’,  it read. That’s the last thing I saw before I blurred and fell.

I thought too little and sinned too much. Yet it was such..that The lights weren’t quite so blinding anymore. The streets resembled home. I couldn’t go back now....it was too much to lose. The air around would no more confuse. . The fancy nights and the never ending days made me learn the way around my ways. Suddenly, I knew too much and I could handle it all. People loved me and loved me some more. I was a ‘diva’ for them...was i not? And I loved being the queen of it all.

I rule the fun, mad hatter, come join me some day. It’s the story of alice in vegas...you don’t want to miss the stay.

MAD HATTER: “Cards and music, a little tea..but wine is tempting...tempting indeed. I should be loyal to the wonderland, alice. I shouldn’t be as unruly as you’ve been.  Goodbye, my love, I’ve got to get to tea, vegas would be too much for me, however, do wait for me, perhaps... I may... *cackles*”