The Colourful Whiteness

The colour white is the absence of memory.
                            -Stephen King


Her people had given up colour to mark their resistance. They only wore black.
Funny, she thought,black is the unity of all colours. But she obliged nonetheless,burdened by the grief of her people and their shame. Shame of being powerless.

But they couldn't get inside her head. Inside, it was technicolor in motion, constant patterns weaved into thoughts, thoughts into incantatory words, words into stories, stories into paintings on bleeding tree barks.

So today when she walked into the forest, she did so with a purpose, a question only colours could answer.

"WHEN DO WARS END AND WHY SHOULD I CARE?"
And her vision was only blinding white.
Raise a white flag?
No. Just raise white words and colour it with your innate innocence.
Soon the black of a ticking time bomb and the red of a holocaust will become the colourful heartbeat of a hummingbird.
 The nature is the universal truth. And the key is your mind. That was only because it was the only place that wasn't a ruin, it was whole, absolute, untouched, all yours. The only undisputed territory. Your mind pre-dates the big-bang, their lies the unfragmented truth.
"It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder.
And white will take you to the river you seek."

So she wore  the most pristine white skirt woven with the finest hope, and she wore it with an armour of colours so bright, war stood no chance.
The war ended. Just like that. A vision in white.

What did she tell them?
"You'll find the most pristine peace in the waking hour of early dawn, not during the darkness of the dusk."
She raised her white flag. So should you. 

A special thanks and a big hug to Kavita, the cutie with a vision behind the camera who turned a weirdo into a gypsy goddess.
Follow her work HERE
You can also follow her on INSTAGRAM

I am wearing :

Crop Top: PolkaDotAndYou

Skirt: Naf Naf

Footwear: StreetStyleStore

NeckPiece: Streets of Sarojini Nagar Market

A Moody Swing

There is no reason why she is doing what she is doing, but she is doing it anyway.
Much like the whirlpool of her many moods.

When she is not being a total nuisance and destroying perfectly aligned patterns and cutlery, she is too busy being grumpy.

Why? Because she doesn't know.
Because she looked up at the sky one night and saw a shooting star but couldn't think of anything to wish for.
Because she has a good man who loves her in a way she dint think she would ever be loved.
Because she has too many secrets she can't keep track of.
Because she could have been Harry potter, but bargained for JK Rowling and hard back covers instead.
Because she likes to mourn in a room crowded with happy people.
Because she misses the sweet sound of landlines and cycle bells.
Because she talks to her dad too often but words don't come out.
Because she wants to take home every dog passing her by, but she doesn't know where home really is.
Because she falls in love with people with raging frequency but never wants to know their name.
Because a kind face smiled at her in the subway, exactly the way her reflection does.
Because the world dint crumble at her feet.
Because nothing ever makes sense,and that's the only time it actually makes sense to her. 
Because she travels to the hills, just to sit and stare at the valley below.

Because there is nothing that lets her down except her own fleeting versions of reality. She is smart enough to know this, yet she writes like this.

No, she is not PMSing, cos if she were, it would be the longest PMSing in the history of PMSing. Nor is she depressed. Depression is a curse of the class of people who never smoke pot. Teehee.

I think she is just a little bit of this life and little bit of the life she dreams of, and every day swings between the two, trying to be in two places at once.
Most days she succeeds, dancing to her moody swing.

Credits to the outrageously talented Sangit Ghorpode of Think Freak. He is an Ace photographer, Artist, Conceptualiser,Director and video editor. Phew! That's too many mad skills in one person. What a blast i had shooting with this genius boy.
See more of his exceptional work here: https://sangitghorpade.wordpress.com/Subscribe to his YouTube channel: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCduCBZRDoyeXxmaZ6DlNUvg/feed

Here are a few behind the scene/behind the madness shots. :D

My Main man- Mr.Ghorpode

I am wearing:
Next
Zara
Chemistry 
Shopnineteen
Vajor
Forever 21

Gaze with Shades

I'm so shy now I wear sunglasses everywhere I go.
-Al Pacino



What's in the eyes?

A dark moon in a white river.
Sometimes there's a drizzle of hope,
But mostly it's a draught.

When they are tired of seeing,

they get busy dreaming

of things that will be forgotten,

Washed away with the dawn of caffeine.

Open, blink, darkness, light.
Swaying in zig-zag patterns of time,

Consistently shifty, constantly curious

Every person loved at a high shutter speed

If they blink, you simply miss.

What do the eyes see?  They ask.

If only they could listen to the eyes talk.

So in the dead of night, they see what they hear.
Texts that'll never reach,

Heartbeat, whimpers, colours and a smile.

In the mornings, made of dewy puzzles
The eyes seek that smile
A smile from a stranger,
A stranger to everyone but them.
Only an image of poignant warmth
Piercing the coy cornea, a pining tear drops.

The eyes seek no more, beauty skulked forever more

What's in the eyes now? They ask.

A picture mayhap, a story? Never to be known again

They got their shades on.

Inspiration:
Inspired by my favourite Sun glasses of the season by an online store called PropShop24.
Check them out, they most definitely are the curators of all things cool.

Also, featuring Hippie Fringe bag and leather wrist band from my Paharganj Haul.
I can never grow out of that place. Leather bags, belts, wallets, footwear, books, and other things that shouldn't be named but inhaled, you will find it all in the bustling lanes of Central Delhi's Paharganj.

College is just around the corner for a lot of you lovelies, make sure to step in with the perfect pair of shades, bags and accessories.  It's not about looking perfect, it all about looking perfectly 'YOU'.

I am Wearing:

Nave New Age Sunnies:       PropShop24

Parrot Green Crop top:                    Zara

White Cut-Out skirt:         Naf Naf 

Leather Fringe Bag:    Paharganj

Leather Wrist band:    Paharganj

Follow me on Instagram for daily dose of Mad poetic affair with fashion.
@The_Burbak_Gypsy

 Photographer: Himanshu Rai

Work it Boss

"Don't play the odds.
  Play the man."
               - Gabriel Macht aka Harvey Specter



I have been working for several years now. Working for a living I mean.
The transition from being a person to a professional wasn't an easy one.

There was this one person I always feared.
That person was around me constantly; at presentations, interviews, reviews, conference room, quite possibly everywhere I was trying to break a professional sweat.

She was an uninvited shadow, always bigger than myself, always daunting and commanding.
I would instantaneously feel weak in her presence, reduced to meek efforts to redeem myself.

I was never myself around her, she was like my professional step-sister. Never on my side.
She made sure to turn work into an insipid job, I felt like a slave to her.

You know that feeling when your boss suggests something that will lead to a 'meteoric' rise on the success graph but is actually a plan set to doom, and your insides want to just shout out a 'No' with wild fervour?
She made sure my head would only nod in agreement along with the room full of sycophants with shifting loyalties. People so manufactured and fake, that if I replaced them with blow-up dolls, the office would function perfectly for a year without anyone ever finding out!

I don't know, what was it about her, but I was subjugated by her invisible strength.
From there on, saying yes to my seniors when I really want to scream out a vehement 'no', complying to baseless rules that have no place in the bay, sharing my point of view which was really the managers view, became normal place.

I'd be lying if I said that I din't gain anything out of it.
She had her ways to compensate.
I received the occasional pats on the back, and the seniors would offer the idea of packaged dreams during reviews.

But this was short-lived. I had become 'them'.
My ability to remain undeflected in purpose and unswayed by criticism was giving up on me.
The individual of integrity that i once knew myself to be had now become a furniture in the corporate living room.
Before i realised, i was drinking out of their palms.
Caving in to the disgusting cocktails my managers loved at office parties, announcing my betrayal to my beloved Ballentine's!
This had to be the last straw.

I had to put an end to this.
I had to confront her and ask her to leave me alone.
I couldn't possibly let her rule me and take away my spark.
She needed to go.

I took her to the restroom, the perfect place for confrontations. You know it. We have seen Suits and Ally Mcbeal.
I stood across the mirror, my hands pressed on the the basin slab.
I stared at my reflection. My professional tormentor was none other than my fear of rejection and my inhibition.
She was me and I was her.
There were no words spoken, just a silent gaze of agreement.
An agreement to not be a sheep in the herd any more.

And so it all changed.
I walk in to work everyday now, fearless and sure.
My integrity and my passion is my Suit, and I always dress to kill.
I am the boss of me now. And so should you be.
Stay True. Leave an impression.

*Inspired by Gabriel Macht's character in Suits and his recent campaign for Ballantine's.
Both exquisitely fine! :P

I am Wearing:

Oval Shades: Faballey

White top: Forever21

Metallic Neck Piece: Sarojini Nagar
Stole: Goa flee market

Palazzo: Sarojini Nagar

Watch: Cartier

Slip-on Flats: Forever21

Photographer: Sangit Ghorpade/ThinkFreak

Into the Blues

Dedicated to Astha and Sidharth,
for your clothes are the yin to my yang.  

There is nothing wrong in conflict.
She said.
She was a strange soul, clumsily finding her way into the woods.
She trespassed every place she was asked not to.
She avoided every road that was illuminated.

Perhaps she wanted to find herself falling in an endless pit of adventures.
Her very own Wonderland. Her very own rabbit hole.
Books can be harmful, you see. Fiction,even more so. 

It makes you believe.
But she was no Alice. She was real.
She was afraid.

She expected a real fire, even if it meant blazing in her own glory to ashes.

So every time she went out free falling, for another vertigo rush, in the middle of getting somewhere and nowhere, she would panic.
That's when Wagner's 'Ride of the Valkyrie' would resound in the valley.
Yes, she was known to be dramatic. It was either that or dub-step!

She believed that if she could overcome gravity, even if for a millisecond, she'd have achieved nirvana, she'd become her own Goddess.

So she found herself holding the hand of another. More clutching for dear life than holding.
 The another completely clueless of the catastrophe that ensued.
The another mesmerized by her madness, and she by another's balance.

She believed that they could be safe now, but she was only dragging another down with her.
You can't hold on to something when you are falling, it's bound to be a mess.

It was clear to her, as the ground approached her swiftly. She was doomed.
That's when the unthinkable happened. She stood there, levitating, few meters from the crash.
Another had succeeded. He peered into her madness and she was a Goddess for what seemed like a blink, but to her, an eternity.
He could do it because he was rising while she was falling. 

And when they crashed, they did so with a smile.
And just like that, out of the blue, another became her own.

You can hear them every now and then, as they dash for their adventures with a ravaging zest.
The trajectory of their falls consumed them so much that they would forget about their bruises from the collisions, almost instantaneously.

Are they lovers? I can't really say.
They are simply chasing away each other's blues. 

I am Wearing:

Silver choker- Dilli Haat

Watch- Cartier
Aztec print Shrug- Vajor

Blue Crop top- Astha & Sidharth (ANS)

Buttoned Maxi Skirt- Astha & Sidharth (ANS)

Shoes- Carlton London

Slim tribal belt

Photographer- Himanshu Rai