I don't like Mondays.

Emma was a cornflake girl
she left home to find a new world
but this a this a this is not
really happening?

You bet your life it is.
The song I'm listening to
a little differently.
(changed the second line)

I've been away from home
since 11th May
but it doesn't feel like it.
Bangalore is a pretty city.
The weather is great,
the food is different and cheap
the people are better than Dilli,
fewer even.
Its a small city with lots of trees and parks.
I have not walked out alone as yet.
Somehow Dilli's laziness seems to carry on.
I've been reading The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron.
Tomorrow I begin my first assignment from the book.
Have not written or doodled for the last week.
I feel like a peice of furniture,
dependent on someone else to make my
life purposeful.
All interesting thoughts welcome *hint for Jen and M*
This post has been sooo entertaining I know,
but thats how I am right now.

My slow day in Dilli

IIMC exam. JNU sight seeing and Mausaji's office.

click to enlarge
Mausaji = my mother's sister's husband.

These things I shouldn't say.pictures clicked by Yours Truly. Pictures 1,3 and 4 from Humari Dilli May 2007

Humari= Ours

The Good Life?

Dilli has made life strange and lazy. Hours spent in bed in boredom. No reason as such but the focus of life seems to be the future. I seem to dead my brain and crawl along life. I haven't shopped like the postcard suggests, because the focus of life is the future. The thoughts running through my head are like words of a sufi song, few and haunting.
Yours truly,
restless and worried.

Almost famous in Humari Dilli

Dilli life is slow when you come here from Bombay. But today has been a day of finds.
I was watching National Geographic in the morning because well... I don't like news channels. (Oh! there are enough reasons. Ok... If you insist, 1. My parents put on the news channel really loud in the morning and the house feels like a chawl. Secondly, a minute of exposure to the channels supplies us with enough violence to ruin our day. 3. I'm not interested in AB's baby's wedding, nor Jhanavi.) 4. I like reading a newspaper once in a while. Coming back to the National Geographic Channel, the show was about babies, not AB's but twins - fraternal, Siamese and mirror image twins, multiple children and their birth. The effects of pre-natal environment on their behaviour patterns. Not as boring as it seems. There were interesting thoughts like most eggs are fertilised to give birth to twins, or more than one baby (like in animals) but we, er, the ones who are born might have killed them early at birth. Our instincts are to take nutrition and anything that restricts it can be gotten rid of. Not too much of this was discussed (obviously). The focus was the birth cycle of twins, triplets and quads.
Mirror image twins are fascinating, unlike twins who resemble each other these are mirror images of each other, even to the extent that if one twin is right handed the other is left and if the heart of one twin is located in the left side of the chest, the heart of the other is in the right!

Then life dragged again, Dilli style till I decided to listen to the radio on my very sparkling new phone. After switching radio channels for 45 mins I heard the word "blogging". Now this I couldn't miss. Chhavi joined RJ Jeena on 104.8 fm to talk about blogging. Chhavi is an internationally acclaimed blogger who has written 23 blogs or so she denied :P The songs were boring, and the time too little to really talk about something significantly deep that's what kept you at it. See, no one can handle too much gyaan on the radio with bad voices. But Chhavi has a great voice and must consider the Radio as a career option. She was waaaaaaaay better the RJ. Why am I telling you all this? Like all narcissistic and self obsessed people who love to blog, I'm telling you this because I, Yours truly, am involved in something big and significant, deep and important! Well... I hesitated and tried to come up with a question just to be involved in this. All I could think about was the future of my grandchildren, them inheriting all the revenue generated by my blog. I called, knowing somehow I would get through because they had announced the number 289 times already. Also, in Humari Dilli, I don't know of many people who are not sleeping or working, (same difference) at 4:3o ish in the afternoon.
and the voice said (it still felt like the radio!) You're on air!
And I was 2 feet about Delhi Ground Level, nervous at first then a little better, they spoke to me about me knowing I'm a little nervous perhaps and in all this drama I forgot about my grandchildren and their right to inheritance.

I have, however, emailed Chhavi the following:

Dear Chhavi,

I really enjoyed listening to you at the show on the radio today.
I meant to ask you a question but this was my first call to the radio
and I forgot.
My question is actually linked to a fantasy I have.
I began writing diaries a little earlier than the blog hoping that my grandchildren would have something to inherit since I know I'm going to be poor all my life. Now, diaries I know will stay, the pages may yellow and get dog ears but they are physical. As for blogs I'm not sure if my grandchildren will be able to google chamko rani to find me 50 yrs later.

What will happen to all these valuable posts then? Should bloggers so obsessed with their life or making property for their future generations to inherit make backups for their blog posts?

Lotsa love,
chamki
of chamkorani.blogspot.com

I want to do a Sketchcrawl in Dilli.
This is something M and me were planning to do around Colaba and Bandra in Bombay, India but now we are in two differen countries and I need to look for people to do this with me simply because it will be fun to do it with people.
I'm open to a sketchcrawl around Cannaught Place, Delhi. If YOU are interested send me an email and we can meet for some sketchcrawling on the 19th of May 2007.

Here is the info on how to do a sketh crawl from the sketchcrawl website:

The idea of SketchCrawl is that of a global drawing marathon: taking a day to journal and draw all that is around you.

How to participate to a World Wide SketchCrawl?

-Look around the forums and see if anyone in your area is getting together for the upcoming SketchCrawl (we set dates every 2 or 3 months).
-If not, put a call out to artists in your city or town.
-If no one responds to your call, you can still go out on the SketchCrawl day and draw away solo (you'll actually get more drawing done that way).
-Then be sure to come back to these forums after the SketchCrawl, share your sketches and experiences and peruse through drawings of fellow "crawlers" from all over the world.

In brief, these forums have those two goals:

1- Get artists together and organized for the upcoming Sketchcrawl.
2- Share artists' sketches and photos from all over the world after the SketchCrawl.
3- Create a community of friends passionate about drawing around the world.

There are no rules:
-Anyone can participate, be it to draw for 20 minutes or the full day .
-Any level of ability is welcome from veteran artists to first time sketchers.
-Any age! Try it with your kids!

From time to time we try and raise funds for a good cause. On those special SketchCrawl we ask this global drawing community to come together and give something back to the world.

- A key thing, help us spread the word!
If you are reading this, I am sure you have a number of friends that might be interested in this as much as you are. Tell them about SketchCrawl! Let's share this idea with the rest of the globe. No borders.

Thanks for your support. Let's draw and share !

#450 Bombay to Delhi

I'm leaving for Delhi this afternoon. Its been hours of packing, ironing, sorting and thinking. It didn't hit me till this ominous moment. Nick Drake reminds me I'm going to be leaving Bombay. I don't know how long its going to be. May be I'll be back soon, like next month, or may be not. There is a part of me that doesn't want to leave. I've lost the comfort of college. I hated it but there were always people to meet beyond this gate. M and Pallu.gate to college hostel

I'm just so used to this space, the sea, my room, my computer, the people, the food places, the raddiwala, the ganna (sugarcane) juicewala, my cycle, my stuff, the air, the moon, the view, my plants, the comfort, the stuff that I haven't noticed. But its time to go. Try another city baby, sings Nick Drake as a type.

this is my room last monsoons. It looks different now.

Its not so much leaving the city that is adding to the silence of tonight, its the beginning of a period of newness, uncertainty and change. I will need to think of things to fill my day with. Perhaps a job or more studying, dance training, money making, creative idling. New people!
New influences. Imagine my life without a scanner. Pictures I click and drawings I make will not be able to make it to the blog. So I leave you with a picture of the Bombay I see from my window. The Bombay that's in my head.

And the story of the world.

“Their grades will determine their job, their house and their car.”

I don't feel an urgency to excel in this sense anymore. I don't see a need to work with people I don't agree with. I don't know if its a good thing.Don't give me that sentence...you know how that sentence goes ... You'll have to do it someday OR but thats what life is...

Read.

The Story of me.

On the 23rd of August in the year 1986 when I was born, the Pandit said "Dramatic people should have big names" and I was named Divyavibha Sharma. (I hated my name. It wasn't Divya or Vibha, or something cooler.) I never understood what the connection was. Clearly at 5 feet 3, I'm not dramatically big or exciting. At most stores I needed to hop through the kids section till a few months back. Anyhoo, I must quickly get to the long story I want to narrate. Today, 7th May 2007, 20 years later, was supposed to be my last college exam. An exceptionally calm morning it was, I made scrambled eggs for breakfast, read the newspaper, picked a parcel I needed to courier, even shampooed my hair after oiling. Exit stage left, cut to Sophia College Gate. As I pulled out my ID card to show the watchman, the sky darkened, thunder and lightening set the mood, angry violins screeched and bats flew by, I had forgotten my Hall Ticket at home.. for the benefit of my Irish readers a Hall Ticket is the little piece of paper that marks your destiny at a University examination. Pan right: shot of girl running in pink skirt with strawberries against the pink walls of the college. They said, "Which college are you from?"
I said, "This one."
They said, "Shouldn't be a problem then."
I believed it till I met Mrs. Meena who said
"What? You've given sooo many exams my child, this is not done. You must go back home and get it. I'll let you enter late and give you half an hour extra even. No no-no-no ... What if they find out, I'll be responsible, I can't do this!"
I said, "I live in Bandra! %#$@*% Its 1 hour away, 2 hours to go and come back."
She said, "This is a University examination, not your college exam. Show me your ID card."
(Enter John, the hammal with my ID card. Yes! I had dropped it somewhere.)
"What's this? What's Chamki? Why does it say Chamki?"
I said, "Ma'am, thats just a rubber stamp, my name is in pen- Divyavibha Sharma"
She said looking at my pink skirt, "You are too casual!"
and casual felt like an insult.
Cut to shot of teary eyed girl running away from Mrs. Meena towards PCO. I was out of calling credit!
"Papa, I've left the Hall ticket at home, get to college, its the bus stop after Jaslok Hospital."
Runn n n n n n n n n n
She said, "Sorry, can't enter without Hall Ticket"
I said, "Let me write, don't take my answer sheet if my Hall Ticket doesn't arrive." (somewhere I know James Bond smiled.)
She said, "Fair enough"

I fished through my bag to look for a pen. You know by now whats coming... yus yus, I didn't have a pen on me. Runn n n n n ...Pareen Bookshop. L.o.c.k.e.d. There were a some girls at the stairs of the Science Building.
I said desperate, "Can you give me a pen, I have my exam now and the bookshop is shut. Please!"

One red and silver, Kingfisher airlines ball point pen promptly appeared. It's a miracle!
2 and a half hours later I was the first person to leave because my brain and my hands were still run n n n n n ing top speed.

I might not get fantabulous marks but I know one thing for sure, I deserve to be called Divyavibha Sharma.

my tarot life

Feel free to give me a reading for the month of May.
You don't have to be a tarot reader, use your imagination.
The deck: tarot of the metamorphosis.

One of the many things you can’t say to that someone.
I will be okay without you.
I won’t be okay without you.

Last night's 3 by 3 art. I hate the scanner for making the crazy flourescent pink a harmless baby pink. A wall full of these should be interesting.

#444

I don't know how things go wrong. I don't know how I stopped saying things, writing them, lost the touch of words. I never considered myself skilled but I knew I was honest. Now, I feel things slipping by, one after the other like tears. There is never silence. There are sighs, thoughts and words of songs. One long constant sigh. You know I always thought this kind of dramatic life always belonged to a genius, an artist or a poet. Its because we got to know about their lives. Look at me, how will you know what I feel if you only know this happy pink blog. Does anybody know us till we shout it our loud? Do we ask how things are? Do we want to hear their answer? Age, wisdom, maturity, intelligence, success, happiness, what are these worth without sensitivity? What are we if we can't be happy? No. I don't want to talk about happiness today. Its not my job to make you happy. I've tried. I've wanted. I've believed I'm capable of it. But today, I'm sad. I'm sad for myself. I ought to think about myself for I'm just another person am I not? and who will? Will you? Do you know what it is to be me? I'm not saying its special, but you just don't know. No one will know if I stop breathing in bed today. Neither will I know if you do. We call it a small world, don't we? I've said my sorry. But we stand apart. You and me. Its such a shame for us to part. Nobody said it was easy. Nobody said it would be this hard. I don't want you to tell me you love me. I don't want you to promise me to be there forever. I just want you to sit by my side without being drunk, or stoned. I know it wont happen. I'm moving on. I'm leaving my dreams behind. I don't want a house and a pond with you and our time. I don't want anything. I don't want to care, because I've done that. I've seen that I keep writing to you and you only reply to be polite. Is there never a thought of me in your mind? Is there not even a memory that makes you think of me? Is there not a reason to call? Must I spend all my time with my thoughts? But I'm going to change, against my will. Just like everyone else who seem to have adjusted to the world. I'm going to stop caring about you because somewhere deep down in my heart that makes me want you to care for me, a little like I do for you.

words of the song i'm listening to.
Coldplay.

I've been doing things. Looking at everyone move ahead in life while I idle away my youth. Usually it wouldn't bother me to idle away my youth, I think myself privileged but now free time to think is trouble. I sleep to escape and find myself awake way to early everyday. My life is number on the postcrossing site. All that makes me happy is when someone gets a postcard and I get to ask for another address to send a postcard to. Nothing excites me, not ice cream, not shopping, not music. Movies affect, ice cream cools me down and interesting members of the opposite sex offer conversation and an escape, but thats not enough. But this can't be me. What's wrong? I don't know. Another dream with an elevator, hair cut by a friend who was doing it for the first time, hot days, no mother at home. I've been doing things I say. But I don't want to tell you. I will anyway, because I'm pathetic. I talk in riddles instead. I don't like you much. You listen and you run away. You never hug or hold or talk or call. I can be happy I know, but I'm not. I can be happy (may be) without all of you but I rather be with you. I realise I'm not prepared to be alone. I can't be. But I should be, because You will not be there. No particular you, just all of you.