Monday, February 22, 2010

Of Books, Art & Finding Treasures

The Road to Yesterday - can something sound  more nostalgic, more romantic? I discovered this beautiful book, crushed under a huge stack of books at Connaught Place, Delhi.  Its cover made me dream  - of long forgotten, honey drenched stories, of love stories blossoming in summer, and love growing through generations... It turned out better. Full of delightful different stories about different people from the same quaint little town, it fills the heart with endless joy.

My favourite story from the other marvels in its 402 pages is this cute lil, dear darling happy story about a pair of crazy twins who, like children all over the world, are always pretending silly and funny things. One fine  summer day they meet this bored, haunted millionaire and somehow end up yapping about their one totally crazy wish - to restore an old, forgotten house they call Orchard Knob - don't you just love the name?? Orchard Knob - so silly and cute and childish - fragrant like forgotten summer holidays... they love the house because its lonely and looks like it could do with some company. Don't we all?

The millionaire - like it happens only in books - fulfills their wish- and the twins go wild with their crazy imagination decorating the house...

"a dear little blue china cabinet with bouqets painted on its doors, and wonderful brocade curtains for the living room that were between spring-green and pale gold."

Sigh! The sweetness, the happiness, spilling from the pages, the impractical and bizaree imagination only a child can have and how it all ends happily after all... I have no idea why I loved this particular story so much...but then, do we ever know why we love those we love?

Made me nostalgic for my childhood dreams, "ice cream colored" dreams - dreams of a perfect book of fairy tales, so big I couldn't pick it with one hand - so perfect it had a beautiful fairy tale for each day of the year; dreams of having my own room, full of books and Archies and comics and all the time in the world to read them; dreams of a jar full of chewing gum, resplendent in all its unwrapped glory;  ...of those days when secrets really did mean secrets only you knew - or you and your sibling :) when promises were sacred stuff never to be broken, and words once said, were honored; when one wrote with a fountain pen and bought stamps from carefully collected pocket money to send letters and birthday cards to dear ones far away...

And a lovely, foggy day found us at The National Museum of Fine Arts in Delhi - could never go there during my 9 year long relationship with the city.. and during a recent weekend fling with the city, I finally went there... lucky for me, the ongoing exhibition focused on Indian paintings from the 18th century till the recent times.

Soaked in the skill of miniature paintings, the strokes of Kalighat Patas, the timelessness of a Raja Ravi Verma, the vibrancy of an Amrita Shergill (she was so young and talented - why did she die so soon?), the boldness of Jatin Kumar Dass, the colors of a Hussain, the weirdness of a Tagore (some of his work were masterpieces, but some..??)...

...and yearned for those lost days of brush and turpentine oil and colors and thick sheets... 

Among other things, discovered this beautiful painting lying on the floor of an unused kitchen at a distant relative's at first sight. Like finding a hidden treasure... 

I didn't have my camera, had to use mobile.

after years of struggle, queuing up in queues and filling endless forms with borrowed pens, having thelle ke cholle kulche, numerous trips to South Campus - dragging my unselfish sweet friends and Him along, near heart attacks and endless tears when I thought I had lost all my documents....Delhi University finally granted me my degree. Graduate in English Honors.. . something to smile about ... finally :)

Monday, February 1, 2010

♥ In love ♥

I am in love with so many things I am in love with finding surprisingly nice book in a lil bookstore tucked away in a crowded street pinched between a butcher and a Chinese food dhabha I am in love with looking longingly, endlessly at beautiful pictures online I am in love with the fact that I wanted to own an old piece of furniture so I could paint it - and God left it at my door months before I even wished for it I am in love with the dull quietness of afternoons and how sleep tugs you into her arms I am in love with the oppressive silence of lonely nights when poems are scribbled, doodles become sketches and thoughts and dreams and reality do a threesome and make rainbow colored babies I am in love with my blue duppatta - it gives comfort and warmth and dances with me in the wind I am in love with the perfect cup of coffee which suddenly comes your way, calling your name when you had given up all hope of ever meeting the one I am in love with smiles - beautiful, happy, heart-to-heart smiles because they make me feel welcome in a strange city I am in love with early morning eyes and the first smile of the day I am in love with writing all this down