Doing as Vasu said.

Following Vasu's task of putting random words into stories I've decided to make my posts similar. These drawings are assorted precipitants of The Everyday everyday. The arrangement is random and when I upload them there isn't much that ties them together but the fact that they are on the same page and that this stuff has somehow passed through me. Vasu is a member of the House of the Cult.24th April 2011 was a Sunday. Sunday is a great day to listen to Hindi songs anywhere from the 50's to 70's. Sholay was released in 1975, the year my parents got married. Hema Malini played the role of a familiarly talkative Basanti in Sholay. Plenty of people arrive to this blog looking for Basanti, Miss Chamko, Shiela ki jawaani and the like. She is a dear friend of Chamko Rani and Chamko Rani is not Miss Chamko. That will be made clear in the near future. Now, Hema Malini is called Bollywood's Dreamgirl which is Sapnon ki Rani in Hindi. In the song, "Mere sapnon ki rani" Rakesh Khanna is trying to woo a woman seated in a tram. The Lady who was seated in this chair at Daily Bread moved while I was drawing it and the bread from Daily Bread made me sick for days, and everyday turned to a Sunday.

The House of the Cult.

You can be my dearest diamond or a nameless chair,
You can be a peice of my heart, or ruffled paper, of which I don't care.
Sometimes I could smile and blow smoke or sometimes I couldn't be bothered
to give you a stare.
Such is the life, if life is life, and everything else is also there.

Sting Operation images from the House of the Cult

Premism and the cults

"What is your next step?" is a question I am most asked by my parents and friends. It is also the question I least ask myself, because usually I look at what is passing by and hear my gut decide to follow it or not. The latest decision in the making is "Where to take the next steps you want to take?" Surely it's not at par with decisions about the Maoists, approaching monsoons-potholes and Japan's nuclear problem, but they sort of are, at the personal front.
The choice of destinations are Bombay and Bangalore as I might have discussed earlier in posts on the blog, conversations in cafes (if you are where I am) and other popular ways of booking faces- facebook. Because you see this question is connected to the deepest question man can ever ask, that of love, amour, of prem.

Ask me how?

Because all decisions are ways loving yourself, all choices are ways of carving better roads minus potholes and Maoists for yourself . (In the path of love, fearlessly we choose the path with potholes a many; but even a mother's carefulness is love.) I know the discontented restlessness one can I have from not being sufficiently productive or not justifying your talents, not blossoming to one's true potential and definitely not translating it into a means of income. These have been very efficiently illustrated with Mr. Father and Mrs. Mother. But none of the understanding rules out a feeling- The Feeling . None of Knowing What To Do, takes away the Waiting Till The Time Is Right and Knowing Today And Not Knowing Tomorrow.
All of this has, simply, to be sat through and enjoyed in good company and good weather like a movie on someone else's tragic but eventful life - full of miserability rescued by unexpected miracles. miserability rescued by miracles. i like that.So, I live in a cult home. The cult/religion/philosophy is work and make no friends, specially make no conversation unless it solves a function that you are aware of. So nothing goes without thinking of Where, What and How this will be received/understood/folded up and forgotten. As you may notice this is quite opposite of my manifesto and the way GOD has made me. So I find myself typing long hours of nonsense only to say DELETE ALL. I take walks in the park staring at the trees and thanking them for the shade, sometimes when no one is looking I dare to hug.
Although, yesterday was a freak circus in the nightsky TM when all the lanets united over drinks and pop corn to stare down at the little green patch on the earth. This very cult decided to go out for a random dinner and we ended up at a place in the dark, so dark you needed to ask for another candle. To which the waiter said "What!?! Another candle?!" Seems within 5.6 secs of entry we were already demanding too much. Then the cult continued within large pockets of silence to exchange a few words and even a few laughs. Some times the caps, and glasses came off to expose the true vulnerability of a wine drinking soul who would like to be happy but is too busy being intelligent and useful.

working working

Anything you don't want to do, but have to do now is called WORK.
People often take breaks from these tasks called WORK and blog about. At least in my days of the blog they used to. Now, facebook has taken over much of that.
Although what I do , I think is fun. But deadlines coming in and I want an assistant making scans while I sing and paint :P
Here's a rough draft for a book on witches I've been working on since I was in Goa.

Sneak preview!

everything is hand drawn/painted and then assembled on the computer. The characters are based on the author's family. The inspiration is his daughter, and the million stories he had to come up with, to entertain her. This is my first brush with drawing humans and bodies. I worked with a Korean painter and tattoo artist, Ji, in Goa over anatomy.. but loved making flat drawings. This witch is my favourite. I wanted to stick to pen and ink, black and white close ups of strange things and washes, but the book is for 7 yr olds and above, a bit of colour won't hurt anyone :)
love,
chamki

ps: post # 666

*

I had a dream this afternoon that I was hugging a version of myself that was clearly clinging onto me for dear life. A size smaller, slightly wrinkled wearing the same clothes I was (white muslin) wrapped to my chest with her arms wrapped around my neck and shoulders.
I tried to push her away when the grip got too intense and all she said was, "me" repeatedly in a whisper.
In my head I heard the word "ego", but who knows what the word meant.
It didn't feel heavy or light, not a burden or any different from everyday. But she was afraid and needed me all the time. She was afraid I'd push her away and she would die. then I woke up

Just a little prayer. Oh blog!

Hello again. Perhaps, I was being overly critical or I meditated so much that I reached stages where I didn't need to talk anymore. The latter being highly unlikely, I was prevented from writing about what I felt, what I thought and what I did.
I don't really think I've ever written on this space for others as much as myself. What I've shared has been extremely beneficial only and mostly for myself. By seeing what you spew out, loud and clear one can witness oneself and hope to edit.
I know this might actually be of little use to the rest of society but it makes one person in the chaotic hippie-lands or crammed cities a little easier to deal with. That person is me.
Yes, in this way I love myself.

In the last year I left my job, the closest I had to routine and wandered in emotions of hormonal happiness, impulse and desperation in Goa and Ibiza. This year I feel a little more open about Bombay again..

Bandra, where I grew up, to return would complete a circle of sorts.
I wake up and spend the sunlit hours debating the good and bad of Bombay and Bangalore.
One offers a fresh fast moving active population, inspired and creative in their own street smart ways, entangled and pouring out of trains, while the other offers a laid back crowd, greedy autorickshawalas and a sense of comfortable confidence of living in a small town (yes, I think social life here is small townish) . I almost know everyone in Bangalore.(at least it feels like it)
The 2 people who inspire me (unknowingly) to come to Bombay again are Paro and Suraag, (also nice to visit home once in a while). As for Bangalore: Shilo, Tapas and a long list of friends similarly confused and jobless.

Perhaps it is easy to be creative and playful as a student bent over homework. The kind of lust for the newspaper and sketches when one should be preparing for the geography exam. It can be very different being your own boss and tiffinwala.

I've been excited by projects and saddened and blocked by myself too many times this year. I've been surprised many times by the sudden marriages of my friends. I've questions my choices watching the progress of others.People have called my life "the dream life" too easily and far too many times recently. Equal number of people have called me flaky, scattered and distracted. I've changed 8 telephone numbers and a part of my hair has turned to dreadlocks. I've swam naked and danced for a music video, danced on the streets, attended an ayahuasca ceremony, sold cold drinks on beaches, given massages professionally, danced in water, made my first choreography, been a non dairy products person, received bio-magnetic therapy, attended tantra workshops, cut my friend's hair, performed in 2 international dance festivals, taught English to Spaniards, screamed in foreign woods, half way illustrated a children's book, learned to speak Spanish, had a decent conversation with my ex, bonded with my family, woken up in different beds 7 days of the week (alone), had a pet pup, lived in a hut, taught Hindi to the Dutch, been shocked to silence for 2 days, been part of past life regression therapy, family constellations and somatic practices. I've noticed my pattern with men and male attention. I've grown my hair to the middle of my back. Changed my mind far too many times. I own 2 cellphones with 3 numbers of 3 different cities.

Now, I want to make informed decisions. Drink coconut water and swim everyday. Draw and dance consistently. Rent a space of my own, which I transform into a studio-temple and love myself.Amen.