Illupatode

When in doubt, don’t think.

I have an Excel sheet full of illustration ideas, categorised in groups by topics, colour coded and what not. I also have gotten bored looking at that sheet, but nevertheless, it is a helpful guide for when I want some ideas and motivation to make art.

Anyway, last year when I got a devastating diagnosis, everything in my life just stopped. My overthinking mind also stopped. I spent days just gazing at the sky with no thoughts in my head. Silver lining, huh? A couple of weeks later, things started to settle a bit and I decided to doodle again. So I picked up my colour pencils which I never use, and just starting making shapes. I had no concern of what I would be making, how it would end up looking, I didn’t care if I make ugly non-art. I just wanted to move my hands while my mind was at a standstill.

In my family, there is a Punjabi word called “Illupatode”, roughly translated as something non-sensical, or jumbled up; like a language or script you don’t understand, or doodles that don’t make sense. So here are the colourful little Illupatode I made, just doodles of a blank mind, for a change.

14 and ugly, 37 and beautiful

When you look at this picture, what do you see?

Ever since I could have an opinion on my body, I felt ugly. At 5, I was dark and skinny with a boy cut, while other girls were fair, cute and not skinny, with beautiful long hair in braids or bangs. They wore frilly dresses and I wore practical, simple dresses or my brother’s hand me down shirts and shorts.

As soon as I hit puberty (at 10; thank you extra years of estrogen for increasing my risk of breast cancer ugh), I was the large one with fat at places I didn’t want so soon, while other girls were tiny, skinny and delicate. I was still ugly.

This photo is probably from when I was 14 or 15 years old, before I got my braces. I can’t remember which corner of my phone I found this in, but these past few days I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. (Narcissist much? No thank you, I don’t think so.) I can’t stop thinking about how I felt ugly all this while.
(By the way, it shouldn’t really matter how you look, but that’s another discussion to explore.)

But imagine this, there are only 6 other girls in your class. They all have boyfriends, except you. No one has ever shown any interest in you. All other girls are skinny, so skinny that at 5’1” and a mere 50 kilos, you’re the fattest of them. They have delicate, feminine bodies with tiny waists and you are athletic, with chiseled calf muscles and a permanent tan. No wonder you felt ugly.

Why did I keep comparing myself to others and losing my own light? Why did I waste years telling myself this ridiculous narrative?

This misfit weirdo was horrible at maths, sciences and anything that required memorising formulae, had turned into a below average student from a topper in just a couple of years, had doubts about her unconventional career interests, was ‘disrespectful’ towards the idea of religious rituals, talked back to her parents and teachers until things made logical sense, was cowardly rebellious, was tomboyish and was obviously not attractive enough.

I wish I could go back and tell that shy, confused teenager how awesome she was. I tell her you’re awesome. You sing so beautifully, you are creative and have so much passion for clothing and fashion, you draw so well, you have great hand writing, you are really good at language subjects, you are strong and athletic and can run faster than even many of the boys your age, you have your own independent point of view and you’re not afraid to question convention and authority, you understand the value of money and spend every tiny amount wisely, you excel at things that interest you, and you can grow into your highest potential. Instead, I saw only lack.

In your teens, your appearance matters to you, especially because your body is changing in uncomfortable ways, and society has set limiting standards of beauty and linked them to things like popularity and desirability and success.

It is only now, six years after going bald with chemo (slow learner?), six months after losing hair again on one side of my head from radiation, putting on weight, thinning hair and getting patchy skin (all temporary I guess), I see myself as beautiful, inside and outside, in this post-menopausal body. I deeply appreciate every part of this body that has loved me even after mistreating it with horrible food, bad routines, discouraging words and unkind thoughts all these years, it is now I can confidently say I look fine and I don’t care if anyone thinks I’m ugly. I’m cute and awesome and I love every inch of my body and it is beautiful.

With every little revelation I’m able to let go of the past and step into a future that has a little more confidence, a little more compassion and a little more love.

Corona diary

Monday 6 April 2020 12:12pm

I’ve been trying to get my mind around this Corona situation, why does it bother me so much, why does it weigh me down. So I decided to write my thoughts in a “Corona diary” so to speak.

I guess I’m just discovering that I’m an empath, after not understanding it earlier. I can’t physically sense the energies around me, but I do feel weighed down and emotional stress and pain when I think about what’s happening in the world. 

But everytime I think about my own state of mind, I feel guilty about being self absorbed when the entire planet is in distress. I can’t even compare how much better my situation is, with the millions of people who are poor, homeless, with nowhere to go, no help in sight. How dare I think about my “mental health” at this time of crisis?

The media would talk about “climate refugees” - something that will be a hard reality in the very near future or even the present day, but right now we have millions of “health refugees”, the migrant labourers who are trying to find some shelter and a sense of comfort and familiarity in their hometowns and villages. 

Seems like every generation has lived through a war, and this one is our generation's big war. 

With every calamity, with every world issue, with every war, it’s the poor people who suffer the most. Why are there even poor people? Isn’t the world so advanced now, with enough food and shelter for everyone? Why is it that the handful of rich people have most of the world’s resources and are unwilling to share? Were humans evil from their origin, were we born this way?

Why don’t I have the urge to give up all my belongings and open up my home to shelter people? Why do I want to close myself off in my comfortable space, and make a little donation to numb my conscience? What is the point of even writing this if I’m not ready to make any sacrifices to help others? Because it is easier to pass the blame on those with perceived power? The corrupt politicians who steal our tax money and hoard it in their palaces? Or the big corporations and rich businessmen who trample over the lowest rung so that they can own homes bigger than their factories? How easy it is to pass the buck - “oh, I’m just a middle class citizen, I can only do so much, why don’t the rich and powerful, the “leaders” do anything?”

Meanwhile, us, upper middle class people spend our time staring at multiple screens, to find an escape from things we are already sheltered ourselves from. We are sitting safe in our comfortable homes, with supplies hoarded and stocked for the next few weeks, social distancing a no-brainer, how much more of an escape do we need? Wow, being “stuck” at home, being “bored” have become great problems to solve. Hey, let’s brainstorm ideas on how to kill time. How much more pathetic can we get? Why don’t we brainstorm ideas on how to save the world? Why don’t we ideate on how we can come out of this as better human beings, kinder, more intelligent, more compassionate not just towards other humans but also towards all species, all elements of nature, towards our planet?

People were starving and dying of diseases even before Corona, why is it such a big deal now? Why are we all of a sudden so passionate about this now? I feel bad about those malnourished kids in Africa whom I ignored all these years. I feel bad about the farmers who committed suicides because of failed crops and no help.I feel bad about those homeless people I saw laying down their dirty sheets under the flyover, getting ready to sleep, as I zipped past in the car, dressed in my best clothes after passionately writing about the next big trends in fashion. Why is this divide staring me in the face so loud and clear, refusing to go away when I close my eyes, or fixate them on a comedy TV series?

Women were oppressed and mistreated for centuries; and then #metoo happened. Are women in a better position now? Maybe, hopefully... at least slightly..? So can we hope that the poor and oppressed masses will have slightly better lives after this pandemic puts them in the forefront of our awareness? I really do hope so. I also hope that we can take this momentum and change our lifestyles, our mindsets, change everything by 180 degrees, to be a species that not just lives in harmony with nature, but uses its intelligence to preserve it, protect it and make it better.

Another big worry looming over the world is that the economy is about to collapse. I don’t know anything about the economy, I run in the opposite direction of numbers etc. So I may be absolutely wrong about what I am about to say. Here goes. Maybe it’s time the economy slowed down. I’ve never understood it when they talk about how the economy is growing by such and such percentage every year…. How long can it grow? Why does the economy need to grow, can’t it stay stable? It can’t grow infinitely. We have only one planet, how can consumption grow with no end? There’s no end to wants and desires and greed, but can we grow as a species to rise above conspicuous consumption? Do we really need a new phone every year? Do we really need to eat and waste food at a fancy new restaurant every week? Do we need a whole new wardrobe every few months? While we are paying our money to the heads of big corporations, it is the workers in sweatshops, the daily wagers and the farmers who are suffering because we’d rather buy cheap, “trendy” stuff shipped to us by the next day. Don’t we need to rethink who makes how much money? Maybe if the small land farmers weren’t being cheated by every link in the long chain between them and us, they wouldn’t be fleeing to the cities in hopes of a better life. How is that life better, anyway? Staying away from their families, their homeland, to make our lives more comfortable than they already are, for an amount of money we wouldn’t think twice before spending with a couple of clicks. Oh god, I sound like an armchair activist. Ugh. 

I believe it is time for us to slow down. To reevaluate our priorities. Shouldn’t farmers that grow our food be paid more than cricketers who entertain us? Shouldn’t people who risk their lives to save ours be given more respect than social media influencers and celebrities? What are we even “celebrating” them for? Yes, art is important, but so is equality, fairness and the well being of everyone.

Here we are, trying to entertain ourselves, make ourselves feel better through “self care” activities, through art, humour, friendships, games, communication and what not. Are we right in doing that? Or should we collectively be sitting and making big plans for the future, on how to change the world? Honestly, I am too stressed and weighed down to do either.

This is our chance to steer our species into a better direction. But we as a species don’t learn from our mistakes. We don’t see the big picture, we don’t see the future, for are eyes are blinded by our immediate whims and desires, our laziness and inertia, and most of all, our denial that something is horribly wrong, and our denial that we, collectively have to power to change the world for the better. I don’t have any faith in humanity. I may have some faith in the unknown, but not in the known. Does that make sense?

I feel that it will take many such disasters, many centuries for humankind to actually make those changes that are needed. It will be too late, and our next few generations will suffer for it, but what to do. I still dream of a distant utopia where people have the wisdom and compassion to live a good, wholesome life.

With every word I write, I feel guilty. Survivor’s guilt. Guilt of inaction. Guilt of ego. Guilt of being stuck in fear.

This virus may not have infected every human on the planet, but it has definitely brought out the best and the worst in people. The blatant hate and hurt and evil side of some is staring at us, as is the selfless service and compassion of others. All our strengths and flaws that were settled deep within us are churned out in this flux and we are faced with a crystal clear mirror that doesn’t lie. The truth is all around us and most of it is extremely bitter.

I still don’t have any answers after so much ranting. I’m too insignificant for my opinion to matter, but I’m allowed to have an opinion and hopefully to express it, especially if it is not heard by anyone. So there’s that.

Rise Again

Hello hello, I made a little video.

I had this idea floating around in my head for a long time, so I decided to give it a shot and try making a little video. This is my first, and probably only attempt at making an animation. Oof! It is real hard work and requires a ton of patience, as well as a solid commitment!

I used the Procreate app on iPad to make the frames and Adobe After Effects to put it together (spending more time on Youtube tutorials than on the actual animation itself haha), realising only towards the end that I need not have made individual frames for the whole fade-in and fade-out bit. Ah, well..

My super talented cousin Rohan let me use some of his music, check out his channel here. (proud big sister grin)

Today marks 5 years since my c***** diagnosis (ugh I hate that word), so I guess it's fitting. Whatever.

If you remember my story, The Gift, you'll notice it's the same character. Maybe it's my way of thinking of the essence of a human being. Anyway, here's the little video, hope you like it.

Summer snacks

The idleness of lazy summer afternoons always resulted in some or the other form of expression - either creative outlets in crayons and watercolours, or playing with light and air, sometimes the usual sibling fights, and many a time, some innovative snacks.

Our old refrigerator, which is amazingly still functional, used to get a big layer of ice frosting all around the inner walls of the freezer. Every few weeks or so, the fridge would have to be switched off and cleaned after all the ice melted. But my brother and I found a way to have some fun; as a side effect of which our mother's job of defrosting the fridge became much easier and less frequent.

We would scrape the ice with the sharp edge of steel bowls (katori) and add a splash of a summer drink concentrate to it, Roohafza and Rasna being our favourites. And there you go, a refreshing icy snack perfect for summer afternoons. This was probably our first taste of the ice-gola that we weren't allowed to eat outside because of questionable hygiene. The stale old freezer frosting is much better!

We also made a couple of other inventions, like Bikaneri bhujiya with ketchup - a spicy attack on the taste buds, but equally enjoyable and unhealthy! Occasionally, when we had some more patience, we would make a "biscuit cake", by layering the ubiquitous Parle-G biscuits with a mixture of cocoa powder or drinking chocolate, sugar and milk. We would have to wait for a few hours to chill and solidify it in the fridge, but this yummy treat was totally worth it!

Grains of sand

Mind

As I closed my eyes
And sat one day
I asked my mind
Why do you wander
Flying across the world
In a moment
Rustling up leaves of my thoughts
Sweeping me off my feet at times
Blowing up old dust
As you run helter-skelter?

My mind said
Would you rather
I sit still
Like a hot summer afternoon
In a cloudless day
Like a flat parched land
In a lifeless desert
Like a stone cold mountain
In the dead of winter?

I thought and I thought
As the mind skated behind
No, just be who you are
For without you
I would never go to the moon
Or float by the stars
Nor see the wonders of this world
With my eyes closed

Without you there is
No new song created
No lightning flash of idea
No wild laughter
From a silly fantasy
No deep dive conversation
That flows all night

Just be who you are
Dance around my head
And I'll watch you
With eyes half closed
A lopsided smile
And my feet
Firmly on the ground

Power through!

I hit a mid day slump almost everyday, and I needed a reminder, or a sort of a pick-me-up motivator to get through it without ending up taking a long nap. So I made one. You can download and print it if you like, it can be a good motivator at your work desk. Let's power through the slumps!

Melancholy

Of course I will

Smile when we meet
Tap my feet to the beat
Laugh at your jokes out loud
And stare at that pretty cloud
Say how much I love this food
And you'll never know what's really my mood

But if you slow down and see
You might catch a glimpse of me

I stay up at night, wake up late
I let you win any silly debate
I’m slow as a sloth
Usually lost in thoughts

And when I tell you that I'm tired
It's not from my illness
But from this unstoppable mind
That doesn't know stillness

Oh yes, I’m happy to be here
But lately, it’s too easy to shed a tear
I know I’m going to get better soon
Till then I'll find comfort hiding in my cocoon.

I can draw a tree!

One of the reasons I like using crayons so much is that I have always found watercolours to be quite intimidating. I was talking to a friend the other day about how people just assume that since you went to design school, you would already be an expert at drawing or painting. The only drawing I was taught in design school was fashion figures. The rest is all upto the individual to figure out.

Anyway, I was in the middle of cleaning and organising when I found this watercolour painting of a tree that I made a while back and thought I'd share it. Every time I look at it I am amazed that it was me who made it! I found a Youtube channel - Watercolor by Shibasaki and I cannot recommend it enough to anyone who is scared to pick up a brush and paints. He makes it so simple and easy to draw - this tutorial video is just five minutes long, and that's just about how long it takes to make this.

And of course, I had to try it again in my crayons. I have to say, I had equal amounts of fun doing both!

Millennial Pink Guavas

Pinterest has been obsessed with watermelon prints lately, but aren't guavas the real millennial pink fruit?

Breathe

When in doubt,
Meditate
Breathe in breathe out
Empty your plate

The jumbles and tangles
Will iron out
But it will hurt
Without a doubt

Unwrinkle your brows
Relax that frown
And your burning heart
Will slowly cool down

They say you just have to
Let it go
But it's not easy
As much as you know

But if you must
Hold on to something
Let it be your present;
Your breathing

For whatever mess
You're going through
Your life breath
Is there with you

Just know all the time
That right now
In this moment
I am fine.

Pun-ish

I drew a few of these back in college and while having the urge to play around with poster colours recently, I decided to draw these again, properly. Hope they make you smile.

Wishlists

Daydreaming of things
to buy some day
places to go
movies to watch
books to read
Some day…

Some day
I’ll finally get
the courage to sing
the strength to run
the wisdom to teach
the wisdom to learn

Saving all those
pens and papers
crayons and paints
drawing on scrap
waiting for the day
when an artist I’ll become

Packing away those
pretty dresses
shiny shoes
and that special necklace
For what use are those
to my homebound
day to day

Daydreaming
Wishlisting
As time goes by
Lives go by
Blink of an eye

Some day…

Anger

Trying to understand my anger. The first step in finding a way out is looking at the map.

Not good enough

She sang like a cat
Purring her songs softly
But she reached the land of nightingales
And quetly said “not good enough”

She looked like a parrotfish
Colourful and strong
But she swam with dolphins
And thought “not good enough”

She drew like a child
Vibrant and free
But she found herself next to Da Vinci
And knew she wasn’t good enough

She wrote like a drunk poet
Raw from the core and pure
But then she read a book
And wrote “not good enough”

They told her your biggest flaw
Is that you think you’re not good enough
And that is why you don’t love yourself
That is why you’re sick

But she said
Of course I love myself
Haven’t you ever loved something
that’s broken, damaged or not good enough?

Heal

Heal!
My body
My dear broken vehicle
Heal
For I am ready to ride again

Heal!
My untiring cells
Don’t fight each other
For I’m brave enough
To fight again

Heal!
My enchanting puzzle mind
Face your fears
For I am going to share
Your pain

Heal!
My spirit
My beautiful, perfect soul
For I promise
To love you again

Some days

Not all days are the same, go with the flow.

Teacher - Teacher

If you are a girl, it is highly likely that growing up, you played "teacher-teacher" with your friends or maybe even with your dolls and toys. My little niece tries to play teacher with me now, and I happily oblige (as long as there's no homework!).

Back in Delhi, my dad had painted a part of the balcony wall with black paint and got me some colourful chalks and a duster. Many evenings, my friends and I would cram into the small balcony to play. I don't think I ever got the chance to play the teacher since I was the youngest among our neighbourhood friends. Silly power play, I say. :) Since Pia and I lived in the same building, we would hang out in the balcony more often, especially after it would get too dark to play outside.

Somehow I never got the idea that a blackboard can be used for something other than teaching, and since I had to be the student even while playing, it didn't attract me that much. Looking back, I wish I had used the blackboard more often. It would have been a fun place to doodle, or play cross and noughts. Maybe I'll do that now, with my colourful markers and whiteboard that I use to make boring grocery lists. Maybe I'll try to play the teacher this time. I promise I won't give homework! :)

All that I need

Every time you step out of your house, you will realise this. The fact that you can read this on a phone means two things - you could afford an education and you can afford a smartphone. And you have the time to idly browse on the internet. I am reminded of my privilege every single day when I see how hard people have to work to earn a day's wage. And here I am, sitting comfortably without having earned a single rupee in almost two years.

And while my body may have this deadly disease, I have the means to deal with it. There are countless who aren't as nearly as fortunate. Every day, I am thankful for having all that I need, thankful that I can save some of it and share some of it.