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

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

A Shape-shift Tale

"I paint with shapes"                 
   -Alexander Calder

She was not made of desire, saccharine kisses or mid-summer dreams.

She wasn’t a thing of beauty, because she did not know what ugly was.

 She was free within the periphery of her dreams.


She was lost, said some.
But that didn’t worry her because freedom was not her concern.

She was a prism, and their voices would permeate through her and take shape into colourful patterns which lit up her imagination and her ceiling in the stillness of a dark night.


 She trapped everything that didn’t make sense and turned it into abstract art.

She wasn’t the sky, she was the stars that tessellated it.
 Her spirit was so massive that it had to be fragmented into zillion, relatively smaller, but still massive, pieces of shiny trinkets.


She became the softness in the moonlight, she was the peak of a hill.

She had angles, one too many. It was difficult to fit her into anything.

So she started fitting things around herself instead. She was God’s interior decorator.

She was unfazed, unchallenged, and absolutely amorphous. 

Ironically, she was geometry.

I am Wearing:

Geometric Neck Piece

Off-shoulder top with piping: The PinkCandyCloset

High Waist Cotton Pants: KOOVS

Platform Candy Color Shoes: DoneByNone

Photographer: Himanshu Rai

Editing: Rashi Kalra

Winter My Muse

Winter is to the heart what gravity is to the tree. It keeps you rooted. It keeps you free.
                                                                                                           -TheBurbakGypsy

When you walk the streets on a gloomy, sun-deprived morning, nose deep-freezed, and a gust of silken chill brushes against your bare cheeks, what do you think?

I think of a lover from a past life left out in the cold for centuries trying to remind me of his/her existence. A sweeping kiss stolen under the stealth of a winter breeze.

Sometimes I wonder why every year, almost always around the same time, earth leaves a part of itself out in the cold?

Imagine the earth a teenage lady, and summer as "that time of the month". Winter becomes her only chance to feel the wind beneath her wings.
To feel like she can glide and sway and jump and collide like the whisper ads, to breathe without consequence.
The sun no longer the least of her worries.
The icy breeze merely doesn't  ruffle her hair and make her nose all crinkly and cold, it's everything else under the surface that becomes aware of their existence.

Coming back to why winters make me ridiculously happy. It seems to me like summer was the unwanted, unexpected guest that overstayed it's welcome and has finally left.
And i am left to my glory and books and quilt and woollen cuddles to spend the next few months like an indigenous from Greenland.
When an over-worked, overcharged laptop whispers and whirs, inviting you to share some warmth, you know it's winters.
When you don't need too much make-up or blusher to look fresh. When the holes in the sweater gives way to lovers to fill it with warmth.
When coffee, hugs and holding hands equals to love. Winter is like walking in a hollywood rom-com from the 90's. Sometimes i wonder how the West has the monopoly on all things cool. Winters, snow, James Dean, Charlie Sheen, Jesus, Miss Gaga, Christmas, you name it! Anyway.. :P

 Everything is more alive in winters. Summers just makes everything settle deep into the sediments. Winters shakes things up, like your 'cool' cousin from the states who introduced the concept of 'blunt' , 'double dips' and 'push-up bra'.
Winter makes you more aware of the body you live in, the soul you want to dive in and the boots you want to walk in. 

Everything is beautiful is layered is free is winter. 
Winter is earth's magic trick.
It gets as cold as you can conjure.
And like every magic trick, it will leave you gasping, wanting to witness the show again, knowing all too well, it's all but a trick.

I went to Mcleod-Dharamkot-Triund and i experienced snow.
And now winters will end, like all things ever really do.
With a fleeting silence, longing and photographs.

Winter Grub manifesting itself onto my cheeks.

leader of the pack. Mmmkay

Trek isn't over until your furry friend says so.

Che Grrrera of Swach Bharat Abhiyan

Not so tough after all, eh buddy? Proceeds to play tug.

This Maggi! #yummiez

Sit. Stare. Grasp. Wonder. Let go.

The 'Sweater'. Them Paws.

My Lana Del Ray moment

Enter the Void

I am Wearing:

Grey Overcoat

Faux Leather Pants- Only

Tribal Knit Cardigan

Gum Boots- FreeCultr

Tan Colour Suede Boots

Worn Out Levis

Neon Round Sunnies- Koovs

Photographer: Himanshu Rai

Skirt. Love. Woof.

"I'd give you my last slice of bacon. It's true love bebeh."
                                                                         -ME

It's all about love. *Yawn*
Just kidding.
I love love. I love how love means different things to different people.
Love is the only feeling that has no logical explanation.
Like the daily progression from night to day, the rotation of the earth, love propels us. Love moves us towards infinity everyday. 

Is the butterfly in love with the cocoon?  No. But the caterpillar is. Always will be. Much after it ceases to exist.

My love gifted me a tiny ball of fur a few months back. My love thinks i can be responsible for the life of another. I had my doubts. He din't.
I call him Dexter. A golden retriever.
He changed me.

He taught me the following things i was too selfish to fathom otherwise:

-Love can bite you. It won't know that it's hurting you. But it will bite you all the same. It will leave you with a clot in your heart. To play is to love is to hurt is to love.

-Love may not always agree with you, love will try to pull away from you with surging passion. And at that moment, don't tighten your grip or the leash. Trust and let go and walk in the  other direction. Love will come home to you, wiser.

-Love never changes. Love does not depreciate with time. You do.
And love does not need to balance out. Love is no balance sheet.

-Knowing how to be solitary is central to the art of loving. When you can be alone, you can be with others without using them as an escape.

 -When love comes running to you and tugs at your skirt, believe that it is love and it will always be. Even though it  might just be the scent of the burger in your bag.

 Because one day, the burgers will not come home, you will. And love will still come running  to you.
Unconditional. Unwavering. Slobbering.

I am wearing:

Sequinned Black and white skirt

Off-shoulder Black Zipper Top

 Floral Printed Jacket
Antic stone Neck piece from Kashmir

Semi-precious Stone ring

Combat Boots

Featuring : DEXTER <3

Photographer: Himanshu Rai

Koop - Strange Love from Anthony Semler on Vimeo.