A Foreign Sky


Sometimes I fall in love, all over again, with my husband. 

— 2 months ago

I have an admin now. I HAVE HELP. My absolute number one highlight of the day. 

— 2 months ago

This eclipse was as tough as they said it would be. I also learned something new about myself. My rising sign is Scorpio, my moon sign is Aquarius and my sun sign is Cancer. So that means, I have two parts water and one part air in me. My chart also has an equal number of planets in Gemini and Sagittarius and one in Leo and one in Libra. 

So I guess I’m made largely of water, and equal helping of air and fire. With no earth whatsoever. 

In other news, I made the most expensive purchase of my life: in a personal trainer. The idea of a leaner, hotter, sexier me excites me but also terrifies me. 

Some other things in life are a bit shaky at the moment but godspeed, they will sort themselves out. Eclipses hate stasis and perhaps this time around, things won’t be as difficult. 

Last bit of news. My next few months look like this: Barcelona (yes again!) New York. Taiwan. Bombay. New York. Cannes. New York. Miami. New York. And sometime in September, there’s Madrid (so yes Spain, again again)

Guess, I’m going to need a larger suitcase. 

 

— 3 months ago
After two days of food poisoning, I was feeling pretty fly today.

After two days of food poisoning, I was feeling pretty fly today.

— 3 months ago
When my sister got married, I felt a strange and profound sense of loss. Abundant joy but sadness that she was so grown up now and that she wouldn’t need me as much anymore. 

I am grateful that the photographer captured this moment. R trying to make me smile, Mom sharing my brief sorrow and Dad empathizing. We are so lucky we get to feel such conflicting emotions simultaneously.

When my sister got married, I felt a strange and profound sense of loss. Abundant joy but sadness that she was so grown up now and that she wouldn’t need me as much anymore.

I am grateful that the photographer captured this moment. R trying to make me smile, Mom sharing my brief sorrow and Dad empathizing. We are so lucky we get to feel such conflicting emotions simultaneously.

— 3 months ago

These beautiful clothes have recently debuted in my closet. I’m partial towards pink. The Elizabeth & James leather blazer is already one of my favorite statement pieces and I haven’t even worn it once yet. It’s a sweet, perfect little piece for spring, early summer. 

With the gorgeous gowns, I don’t really know what I was thinking considering I don’t often have reasons to wear such clothes. But I have wanted to own a Bibhu Mohapotra creation and the amaranth gown is splendid. The Nicole Miller and Halston Heritage dresses are all kinds of lovely as well - just the right amount of shimmer for the season. 

Clothes, I guess, are my vice. I’m a happy camper tonight. :)

— 3 months ago
Austria, 2013

The mind roams free.

Austria, 2013

The mind roams free.

— 3 months ago
The past few weeks I’ve been thinking a lot about when I first left home. I don’t think I ever acknowledged to myself how unbearably difficult the first few years were. They unhinged me, made me reckless. I was incapable of getting close to people. In hindsight, I wish I was better prepared. I wish I had understood what it meant to leave, perhaps I wouldn’t have done it then and my life would have had an entirely different trajectory. I was naive, loved and sheltered. And maybe I gave it up too early. 

I’m of the age now where I should be thinking about motherhood. But that would mean always looking ahead towards the future, never into the past. Not as often as I do anyways.

The past few weeks I’ve been thinking a lot about when I first left home. I don’t think I ever acknowledged to myself how unbearably difficult the first few years were. They unhinged me, made me reckless. I was incapable of getting close to people. In hindsight, I wish I was better prepared. I wish I had understood what it meant to leave, perhaps I wouldn’t have done it then and my life would have had an entirely different trajectory. I was naive, loved and sheltered. And maybe I gave it up too early.

I’m of the age now where I should be thinking about motherhood. But that would mean always looking ahead towards the future, never into the past. Not as often as I do anyways.

— 3 months ago

Finally. Finally. Finally. 

I have been following the work of artist Shirin Sahba for a long time now. I think I’ve shared her work before on my Tumblr. In February, she sent an email with her latest painting, “The Bloom,” She wrote,

He presents her with a single lotus-flower bloom to symbolize his pure intentions…Her dress is inspired by the exquisite courtesan dresses of the Mughal empire, with intricate gold detailing depicted in their illuminated miniature manuscripts. The ground is alive with detailed flowers and a vivid menagerie including peacocks, lions, elephants, horses & parrots. This pattern was greatly inspired by the colourful textiles of Gujarat, India. 

I immediately fell in love with this particular work. Two things about it tugged at my heart - the playful menagerie over the light background and the colors and spirit of Gujarat. Sadly for me, even though I fell in love with this piece, I couldn’t afford it just yet. But I think I was meant to have this piece of work because a month later Sahba sent out another email offering this work as a limited edition giclee print in 20x20. I didn’t even hesitate - and ordered one. It will arrive in two weeks. I am feeling boundless joy at the idea of waking up to this every morning. On rainy days, I will imagine the stories of this odd assortment of animals. I will wonder about the maharajah and the maharani. On cold winter nights, I will hungrily stare at it and think of my languorous, story-filled summer vacations in Gujarat. 

I learned that the artist was pregnant when she made this work. I like knowing that… I suppose because I think about it a little more seriously now too. 

And when the time is right, and when I fall irrevocably in love with one of her other works again, I will bring home the real deal.. the painting next time around. 

xoxo

— 3 months ago with 6 notes
George’s at the Cove. La Jolla. 

Sunshine is pouring out of my heart. I feel skinnier. I feel lighter. I feel happier. And for the first time in my life, I can truly imagine living some place else in America that is not New York. That place is called, anywhere with sunshine.

George’s at the Cove. La Jolla.

Sunshine is pouring out of my heart. I feel skinnier. I feel lighter. I feel happier. And for the first time in my life, I can truly imagine living some place else in America that is not New York. That place is called, anywhere with sunshine.

— 4 months ago

It is a little past 2am. I am unable to fall asleep. Sometimes I wish I were more like R, who falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. I ruminate. I think. I lay awake feeling restless, feeling unfulfilled creatively, feeling like I’m not doing enough with my life.

And I also become fearful. Of the phone ringing with bad news. This year has been heavy and sad with loss of people. I pray for protection of my loved ones. And I say I love you to them more times a day than I breathe. And then I try to not feel helpless.

Tonight, I feel like escaping. Burying my big head on my moms lap and smothering myself in her scent. I feel like having my Dad sing to me. That’s my safe place.

I need to come home.

— 4 months ago
On endings

I watched a movie and finished a book yesterday. The movie was, “The Lunchbox” - an almost Oscar nominee about a man in the sunset of his life and a young woman trapped in a loveless marriage. And the book, “The Fault in our Stars,” a poignant coming of age of two cancer-struck teenagers.

But I was annoyed. I was annoyed at this ridiculous artistic license that writers and filmmakers take in not ending the story. I get it, really, I do. I’ve taken enough fiction and screenwriting classes and have appreciated great works of art to understand this particular device. But yesterday I was annoyed.

It is ironic. In the book, the teenagers connect over a book that has an unfinished ending. And they travel to Europe to find the author and ask him how it ends. It drives them crazy to not know what happened to the people in the book they had invested so much time in. But then, the book ends exactly that way. Abruptly. Without an absolution.

As does the movie. It is not a unique story, The lunchbox. Reminded me of a Jhumpa Lahiri story. Reminded me of Lost in Translation. Bits and pieces of other stories and films. But I got invested in the characters. I was rooting for Ila and Mr. Fernandes. I was also anxious if their connection over words would survive the often-fatal in person meeting. A misunderstanding, a cross-connection and boom - the movie ends. Did she make it to Bhutan? Did she meet Mr. Fernandes? Did they find happiness?

You may think that I am not appreciating the sublime beauty of story-telling. Of how by not ending the stories, the makers of these stories have offered us a hundred million permutations to end it ourselves, in our imaginations. To make the story stay longer in our heads.

But I fell in love with these characters. And I would have liked them to stay in my head forever as happy people, or people who had closure. Now they are in a limbo. Their fates at the hands of their viewers and readers…zigzagging through the infinite firmament, without rest, without respite.

And that is not the ending I would have given them.

Like Lost in Translation. When I watched that movie, I knew that this was just a random, momentary collision of two souls, firmly planted in their own orbits. It was unlikely that there was a forever or even a future for them. But there was an ending. There was a hasty but proper goodbye, marking the moment their orbits disconnected permanently.

I guess that’s all I’m asking for. If you fall in love with someone, even if it is for the briefest of times, it deserves acknowledgement.

I’m afraid I don’t find artistic beauty in ambiguity, anymore. Life is too short for people, fictional or real, to not have certainty when it comes to matters of the heart.

Just my Saturday morning ramble. Happy spring to whoever reads this.

— 4 months ago

Tatia Pllieva’s film, First Kiss, is breaking the Internet  today. I watched it twice, puzzled and curious. Where are these strangers summoning such passion from? When they are kissing, they don’t look like strangers. They are communicating, without words. As though that one kiss is their last connection to humanity and they are pouring all of themselves into it. Some of them even look like lovers, not strangers. For that brief moment - did time stop, did they fall in love and did they spend an entire life with each other ? 

I am moved. And I’m not even the one kissed by stranger. 

— 4 months ago

I understand now why people run. Our bodies and our minds are not wired to deal with excessive mental stimulation. The last few weeks at work and on the pitch, I’ve been having such a tremendous time. Working, biting chewing challenges. My mind was not quiet. Is not quiet. It runs even when I sleep. And I wasn’t tired or exhausted. Just stimulated. I had a strong desire to run until I burned off that energy and collapsed in a state of exhaustion.

But instead I sit at the airport, wearing my sunglasses to hide my tears. I read about the Malaysian Airlines flight that went missing. 200+ people. Two babies. Like everyone else, I’m hoping for a miracle but I can’t help feeling sad. For the people on that flight. For people that love them. That could have been me. That could have been my people. These are tears of compassion but also fear. And perhaps I’d have a better hold on myself had I gone for that run.

Exhaustion comes one way or another. Right now, it’s coming to me as I feel the sadness of 200 people and the lives they touched. And I feel the sadness that hasn’t entered my own life yet.

— 4 months ago
Youth, unbridled, perched on the top of a building. Oblivious. Making music. The wind, carrying their songs, to the tourists atop La Pedrera. 
Barcelona, February 2014

Youth, unbridled, perched on the top of a building. Oblivious. Making music. The wind, carrying their songs, to the tourists atop La Pedrera. 

Barcelona, February 2014

— 4 months ago