In nandu's world

Heh. :D

2010-08-30T20:41:00.002+05:30

A viral fever turned the third spread of my Moleskine into this green weird... um... thingy.

Was fun! :D

Echo

2010-08-06T23:10:00.003+05:30

Ugly, beautiful time

2010-08-05T00:21:00.001+05:30

I'll tell you later about my new Moleskine. :)

But for now, here's a pathetic scan of my first doodle in it!

PS: Moleskines aren't super duper brilliant thingies. But I bought two and love them. Won't be buying any more, though. Any old sketchbook or paper's good enough, I've realised. :)

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Oh, and I cut it up in PS because I felt like it. :)

Boxed

:)

2010-06-26T01:20:00.000+05:30

J'entends ta voix dans tous les bruits du monde.

~ Paul Eluard

And so he said...

2010-06-17T22:39:00.002+05:30

Summer cleaning! Not.

2010-03-20T00:02:00.021+05:30

Too many doodles cluttering up this space. So dumping all future sketches in another blog. :)
No more artsy-fartsy stuff in nandu's world.

Yayness! :)

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Gahaha. In true Nandu style, I have come back after a few months (it's June something) to eat my words. *tries to brandish chopsticks and facepalm at the same time*

Ow!

So, with smarting eye I declare that posting doodles in separate blog = dumb idea for someone who can't even housekeep the cobwebs off one blog.

Thuswhereforely, that blog will be deleted and all the sketches posted there will be carried over to this one. Hm. Maybe I'll put them right after this convenient link below.

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So the link thingy worked, hm? Neat! *gloats*

Here, random doodles:

The look in her eye!

2010-03-19T13:24:00.002+05:30

As boundaries blur...

2010-03-17T00:28:00.001+05:30

the skin feels weary

footsteps too heavy to bear

dreams a dusk away

Recursion

2010-03-16T00:36:00.012+05:30

At times my life works best blogless. but sometimes I really need a blog, whether it be this one *pats blog with affection* or any of the dozens I've created and destroyed on whims over the past few years. I've been thinking about where my blog need comes from, and I've got a few leads now.

Conversation is limited in my world. The type of conversation that involves two or more minds really sitting down, stretching their mindy legs and engaging in something of mutual interest with passion and fervour and openness and sensitivity and love, with an undercurrent of appreciation of the great value of the process of enquiry itself (fuelled by an à l'arrière-plan but nevertheless compelling thirst for arriving at the destination, of course). Most of my friends are timeless - they just don't have the time for such exploration. The correlation between having time for and being inclined towards I shall but hint at here.

And, oh, some of my friends do have the inclination and thus the time, but they aren't suitable conversation partners (SCPs) for me. That's neither a blot on them nor on me. It's just the way the water flows.

What about the SCP friends who do have the inclination but can't be physically present to converse with me? Chat. Email. Letters. Not the same as talking to them, though. Body language dies a slow, painful death, clubbed to its pathetic demise by emoticons and typed out hugs couched in asterisks and BRBs in chat streams.

*sighs*

And look at me! I have chatter in my head. Questions. Comments. Observations. Unfunny jokes. Concerns. Curiosity has permanent residence in my upper storey, and with it around, it's a blah-blah party up there. Oh, no mistake - my mind's very happy and comfortable with silence. And solitude. I'm an introvert, yeah. But I have a brain-and-heart combo that would like to meet other brain-and-heart combos every now and then. I've also noticed that following a slice of such sharing comes a period of affinity to my alone time. And this is a happy scenario in my books! Meet and then retreat, both with a great sense of contentment - it's like hitting F5 on life every time!

Unfortunately folks almost always seem to be too near or too far and it's tough sometimes to alternate between managing this extreme and that. There are a few people in this world, though, who know me enough to sense when's too near and when's too far. That's one of the reasons I'm not a thanni-thelichu-vittufied recluse, I suppose. :)

So, back to blog-need ramble: My blog's sometimes too near and sometimes too far too, but it's almost always been there when I've been of the verge of exploding with the need to communicate. Thanks, blog thing! :)

PS1: When it comes to social networks like FB and Orkut, too near and too much is the norm and this makes me run. I deleted my profiles on these two years ago and I've never ever nevereverever felt even the remotest urge to return to their folds. Twitter's a blessing in comparison. I can yell into its 140-character depths whenever my life fidgets with restlessness at the inability to find an SCP or when the need to communicate overshadows the need to communicate to someone. I love it. :) *offers it chocolate cake*

PS2: Sometimes all I want from an SCP is to sit with him/her in silence. Maybe read a bit. Maybe go for a walk with him/her. Maybe walk away from him/her knowing that he/she'll be there when I get back. Not all communication has to be verbal.

Guess who's a wee bit hungry...

2010-03-15T22:35:00.001+05:30

Twelve little bottles of waterproof ink + one nib holder + one dip-and-draw nib + one hour of paatisitting = happy monst-rawr! *growls*

Peepul, tree.

2010-03-14T00:22:00.014+05:30

      1.  Accompany aunt to stationery store.

      2.  Drool over pen.

      3.  Buy pen.

      4.  Test drive pen.

      5.  Upload resultant doodle.

      6.  Repeat step 2.

Yes.

2010-02-25T00:11:00.002+05:30

I want to invent a machine that travels through time-travelling machines.

Wordchains form the past! :)

2010-02-23T23:42:00.046+05:30

Remember when you were a kid and you and your friends cheerfully played while chanting those intriguingly twisty-turny rhythmic verses, often nonsensical but always gripping in a hypnotising rhythm that had its own momentum? :) And the clapping and tapping and elaborate manoeuvres that went with these! Wah, wah! :D

You probably remember a few verses, right? And the others have no doubt long been smushed under the careless feet of years past.

Such wordchains are fascinating memes. They usually spread like wildfire soon after they're born and undergo many, many ingenious mutations, but most eventually disappear as memes are wont to do.

I've always wished someone would record these fragments of childhood somewhere and this post is my attempt at freezing some of these fascinating wordchains in blogspace. Here I've classified them under language headers.

Read on, and after you're done, do contribute as a comment the wordchain-memes you remember from your own childhood! :)

And this post's title doesn't have a typo, folks, in case you were wondering. :)

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Tamil

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Biscuit biscuit, jam biscuit,
Enna jam? Rajam,
Enna ra? Cora,
Enna co? Teaco,
Enna tea? Rotti,
Enna rotti? Bun rotti,
Enna bun? Ribbon,
Enna ribbon? Pachha ribbon,
Enna pachha? Maa pachha,
Enna maa? Amma,
Enna amma? Teacher amma,
Enna teacher? Kankku teacher,
Enna kanakku? Veetukkanakku,
Enna veedu? Maadi veedu,
Enna maadi? Motta maadi,
Enna motta? Tirupati motta!

Alternative Möbius-strip-ish loop:

Enna Tirupati? Mél Tirupati,
Enna mél? Maadi mél,
Enna maadi? (continue with Motta maadi...)
:D

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Oh onnara doovara dakkara dun,
Yaaval kaaval maski dun,
Kallan kullan twenty one,
Yaa oo mé duck!
Ducka thooki méla pota chettiyar veetu nandu,
Nanda thooki méla pota naagarathna paambu,
Paamba thooki méla pota panjavarna kili,
Kiliya thooki méla pota Krishnanoda konda,
Kondaya thoki méla pota raja,
Rajava thooki méla pota rani,
Raniya thooki méla pota shaani!

Alternative ending:

Shaaniya thooki méla pota?
Dhoppunu keezha vizhum!
*insert much laughter and giggles*

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Bengali

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Ikiri mikiri cham chikiri,
Chamé kaata mojumdar,
Dé élo damodar,
Damodarér handi kudi,
Taité boshé chaal kudi,
Chaal kudithé holo béla,
Bhaat khabiaai jamaai shaala,
Bhaaté podlo maachi,
Kodal diyé chanchi,
Kodal holo bonta,
Kankshiyalér maata!

How to:
The kids sit in a circle and place their hands in the centre with fingers spread out. The song is sung with great gusto and one kid touches every finger in turn, progressing in a clockwise direction. The finger that gets touched when the last word of the song is sung is tucked under the hand it belongs to and the game goes on, with the song being sung anew. A kid who "loses" all his fingers is out of the game. The last kid standing (sitting, rather) wins! :D

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Gujarati

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Vaarta re vaarta,
Bhabha dhor chaarta,
Chapti bor laavta,
Chhokra samjaavta,
Ek chhokro risaano,
Kothi paachhal santano,
Kothi padi aadi,
Chhokrae chees paadi,
Araaa-rarrrr maadi!

(Courtesy: Tingi's Kaka)

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Laal laal taametu,
Nadiye naa'va jaatu'tu,
Ghee-gol khaatu'tu,
Us mus ne dhus!

(Courtesy: Tingi's Kaka)

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Popat khaato nathi,
Popat peeto nathi,
Popat aamba ni daal,
Popat sarovar ni paal,
Popat lherrr kare!

(Courtesy: Tingi's Kaka)

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Adako dadako dahi daduko,
Pillum paake sarvan gaaje,
Ool mool daatedi nu phool,
Saakar sherdi khajur,
Kahoji tamara chhaiya chhokra jaage chhe ke unghe chhe?

(Courtesy: Tingi's Kaka)

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Ek hata kaka,
Emnu naam Mankodi,
Khaava emne joie,
Saathe puri pakodi,
Saat laadoo saathe pese evdu modhu faade,
Aakha gaamni bhookh jaane emne lidhi bhaade!

(Courtesy: Tingi's Kaka)

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Ek bilaadi jaadi,
Ene pehri saadi,
Saadi pehri farva gai,
Kankariya ma tarva gai,
Kankariya ma maggar,
Billi ne aavya chakkar,
Saadi no chhedo chhuti gayo,
Maggar na moma aavi gayo,
Maggar billi khaai gayo!

(Courtesy: Tingi's Kaka)

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English

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Yam cheese yam butter,
Sauce potato chip-chip-chip,
Sauce potato chip-chip-chip,
Cream roll, butter roll,
Chicken roll, yammmmm!
(Courtesy: Subbulakshmistoned)

I remember another (more nonsensical) version of this:

Supacaroni macaroni
Ham and cheese, ham and cheese,
Sauce potato chip-chip-chip,
Sauce potato chip-chip-chip,
Chiros, firos, gems!

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Language unknown! :P

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Quacka dilly ozo,
Quack quack quack quack,
Senorita,
Rita rita rita,
Yellow,
Yellow,
Yellow yellow yellow yellow,
Ye-ll-low,
1-2-3-4!

~~~~~~~~~~

Aam chori chappa chori,
Garam masala pani puri,
S-T-O-P comma comma,
(Pulli) fullstop,
STATUE!

(Courtesy: Subbulakshmistoned)

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Do correct, add, contribute other chains from your memories in the comments! I'll add them to the post and credit them to child-you! :) These HAVE to be documented somewhere and I'll be glad to house as many as I can in my blog! :)

PS: Tam folk: Tell me if you know the rest of the one that goes: Gopala! Aen saar? Enga pora? and so on... :) Nyabagam irukka?

Babumoshais, do you remember the one that goes Togor bogor ghee kochudi? I've got a few links missing in that one! :( Do help!

That's why.

2010-02-20T23:19:00.013+05:30

Udnan had a problem with her metaphors.

They're mixed, he said.

Nandu knew it, of course. Almost every time a mixed metaphor popped out of her fingers, she'd stop, raise a curious eyebrow, maybe nod slightly in acknowledgement and then go back to creating negative space. Sometimes the metaphor would just creep out, skirt her consciousness and squat at font height in some sentence or the other. It was ok. She was ok with it.

The other day, as they waited at the dentist's, she tried to explain. They're looked down upon, I know, but I use them a lot, I've found. Sometimes ideas bleed into each other and then mixed metaphors are often but part of the natural flow of expression.

Udnan looked at her and then back at the wilting tooth-chart by his chair. The colours were faded and the labels peeling.

As long as integrity is not kicked in the shins...

He shrugged.

Nandu smiled in response. She knew he'd get it!

Contemplation

2010-02-18T20:02:00.009+05:30

It's interesting how life is all about reconciling one's personal experience of reality with one's perception of the common experience of reality. Living in the process, of course.

*Attaches sticky note to cerebrum: Explore subjectivity/objectivity when it comes to reality. In another post, not this one.*

Just wondering...

2010-02-15T21:17:00.003+05:30

This universal desire to be accepted and loved for what one is, does it have any evolutionary significance? Is it driven by evolutionary motive?

In a mindstorm

2010-02-15T20:47:00.007+05:30

Oh man! I'm so restless and unsettled now that blogging is probably not a good idea. But then again articulating something, anything at all, might calm my mind and heart down. Let me try and find out! So I'm going to type out a meandering post. About... *muses* Haan! About people, to begin with. And minds. And insecurities.

It's amazing to see how much people instinctively want to shield themselves from danger. The human mind either consciously, unconsciously or subconsciously - and definitely instinctively - employs delusion, deception, distortion, diversion and so many (oh so many!) other maze-walls to preserve the sense of well-being of the "I" and to maintain the nebulous impression that the maze leads somewhere worth reaching. What a horrible sentence that was. Ok, on to more crappy text...

And so we've got a planet full of genetic material walling itself up against potential hurt. When I see some of the things I do, the kind of shields I cower under sometimes, I do a surprised double take. One of the things I started experimenting with when I was in school was to remove a shield once in a while and see what happens, to see whether I would survive the wounds - for there are wounds, inevitably. The secret to survival, I've found out, is not to trust in the shield or that the wounds will not kill you, but to really trust in the resilience of the human being. The self has been built to take more than we think it can.

On a slight tangent: I find it interesting to look at how parents approach parenthood. Some plunge into it after much thought and deliberation and then proceed to smother the child under layers of shields and armours, keeping the child safe (so they think) and reality away because the latter could ruthlessly and relentlessly make the former bleed. And then there are those parents who give birth sans fuss and, voila, they have a baby. And the baby is sat down on this common experience of reality, reaching out to touch and taste misery and joy alike, its first steps taking it right into the big, bad world that will judge it, be unreasonable to it, poke it with words and strangle it in convoluted loops of greed and selfishness and insensitivity. Which of these kids make it to adulthood as beautiful blossoms, not as stunted, root-withered, etiolated shoots? Which of these children emerge unscathed from the mire of parental influence? Is being unscathed an asset? Are our scars not beautiful, not wise-marks? Whose legs are less shaky, more coordinated, and, most important, whose legs will stay strong and functioning after a fall? And, also significant, who survives? (Because isn't that what really matters in the end? No, says mind-voice.)

*wonders*

In many ways, I have experimented with and continue to experiment with peeling away my (illusorily?) protective layers. But yet, it remains, the fear. Lessens, yes. I wonder whether it will truly disappear one day. That would be übercool! :)
Alors, I do have great confidence in my resilience - and a supporting lack of concern about possible death from all this bleeding I expose myself to - and my scientific temperament helps sustain this desire to observe and experiment, even if the subject is moi même. It's interesting how another plane of observation, one in which I watch how people relate to the world, themselves and me in terms of hurt and security and shields and protection, exists at the same time. At both planes I learn so much (even learning sometimes that what I know is all wrong or that my learning itself is fake - applicable at concentric meta-levels). Sometimes, though, when bleeding I wonder whether it's all worth it. And then it's easy to see that the answer's an emphatic if disheartening yes when I draw from the insight that says that ultimately it's me, alone, navigating through time and space in this existence that manifests at first glance as a complex web of shared experience.

Heh. It's like you sign up for Twitter but you realise one day that you are all alone in Twitterverse, as is everyone else.

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Hm. On reread this seems such a pessimistic post. I blame it on my present mood. I'll come back to this tomorrow and add a better, more cheerful take to it. Or not. But I'll tell you what, reader, I feel so much better now that I've typed all this out. :) I shall brood no more but shall go decimate en-fridged chocolate instead. *wears war paint* The immediate future looks delish! :)

Dreamscape

2010-02-15T14:17:00.003+05:30

Flowergirl

2010-02-09T00:58:00.009+05:30

~ Black ballpoint pen on paper, scanned (colour and text added in PS)

I don't like this sketch, but I decided to post it anyway. You can tell I lost interest in the middle and carelessly got through the rest of it. Bleagh. I don't like it at all. I'll make up for this by posting a better sketch the next time. *promises self*

Yeah. This is what happens when I learn a new language.

2010-02-08T20:31:00.009+05:30

Q: Why did the cops go to the railway station when the crazy Spaniard murdered someone?

A: They were looking for a locomotive.

Get it? Loco-motive? Loco motive! Hahahahahaahahahaa!

*complete silence*

Um. I'll maybe leave now. Kthxbai!

And kids love them!

2010-02-08T20:00:00.003+05:30

The familiar is comforting and stifling. And the unfamiliar, intimidating and exciting. And when you really look at the familiar and the unfamiliar looks back at you... And you look at the unfamiliar and familiarity envelops you in its scratchy warmth...

Oh, Matryoshka dolls are pretty!

The night is bleeding words.

2010-02-08T19:40:00.007+05:30

Says the man in the shadows,

Maybe you are sitting on the uncomfortable park bench. Yes, you probably are. And she walks past with a dog pulling at its leash. And he walks past, his hands in his pockets. And there she is again, on the phone, in a bubble. And they almost trip over your extended legs, engrossed in their discussion of where to go over the weekend. And he moves slowly, his walker bundling him in senility and his mind racing ahead of his body, already home and settling into the armchair while his feet inch over the uneven paving like snails’ tentacles. And they cycle past like so many vectors from your Math textbooks from school.

In a flurry of moments he is there on the bench too, facing you with intelligent eyes and an inclusive smile. You remember the words swirl around in the evening air, gathering density and even impatience as twilight weaves its shadows into the fonts that leave your mouths. Verdana. Times New Roman. A flash of Comic Sans. IMPACT. Oh, how you softened when it was Garamond that caressed the air! Arial. Verdana. Calisto MT. Austere, functional, impersonal Stencil.

*sighs*

As the page becomes dark with all the words spoken and all the gestures that trail black sweeps of dripping ink behind them, your mind emerges into a strange clarity. A clarity in limbo. A clarity that will be lost under the crumbling layers of your life as they swathe you over and over. And yet all you can do now is watch as the words float out of his mouth and linger in the soft velvet between you before spiralling gradually up to obscure translucent sky.

The walkers walk on past you, disjointed, encapsulated, deformed.

On the way

2010-01-31T23:34:00.001+05:30

The cat is dead. Long live the cat!

2009-10-06T23:55:00.020+05:30

Every time exam results are unveiled, I feel nothing except mild curiosity. In this world of keen champing-at-the-bit academicity, that is just not normal, is it? Maybe I should be more concerned.

*tries to coax her brow into a befitting furrow*

PS: On another note, does entanglement (think quantum mechanics) make any of you Physicsy people think of the fake galleons in Dumbledore's Army in HP? It does, right? How cool is that!

_____________________

Edit: The feline liveth. Hallelujah!

In shadowland

2009-10-06T01:24:00.009+05:30

When dawn is a rainbow stippling sticky black skies

When winds tangle voices in melancholy reprise

When forms lengthen interminably as the darkness dies

Shadowmen and shadowwomen and shadowchildren arise

PS: I'm sleepy. And have a deadline sitting on my elbow singing grating Vijay-padam songs (apologies for the tautology) in my ear.

Result?

I go doodle things like this. There is no thiruthifying me. Tsk, tsk. *shakes head mournfully*