disasterandtriumph

[disasterandtriumph]

Conflict & Empathy

A few years ago, I witnessed my then teenage cousin argue with her mother over a t shirt she wouldn’t let her buy. My cousin’s reaction was exactly like mine, throwing minor fits, complaining about how her mom doesn’t understand her. The reaction of any normal teenage girl at a similar situation.

From experience of my own and friends’ parent’s reactions, I only assumed that her mom would yell back, ‘you can’t have everything you want’ or ‘If I give you everything you ask for you’d be disappointed later in life’ and similar life lessons which used to sound utterly meaningless when I didn’t have to pay rent, buy groceries or make myself soup when I was sick.

Her mom’s reaction surprised me because this was the first lesson in empathy that I had consciously learnt. She didn’t scold her daughter or describe the inevitable disappoints held by the future, she let her be mad and throw fits. After my cousin calmed down, she let her talk about her disappointments. She did this without putting down her daughter for her seemingly frivolous reason for annoyance. She later explained to her, her own limitations because of which she denied her the t-shirt.

Empathy is a skill. And one of the aspects that is required to get better at it, is the ability to understand that the other person’s view of the world differs from yours. A 14 year old can’t understand, and shouldn’t be expected to understand the financial constraints of her family. It’s important to push your ego aside for just a second to understand the alternate version of the circumstance through the other person’s side and explain to them your views.

One of my friends back at school used to say, ‘arguments don’t have winners’ and she’s right. Conflicts are a win or lose situation, you can either both understand each other and be happy together or choose to see the world unidimensionally and stay upset.

Kee

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Later The Atelier Ate Her

Dear Kee,

Sharing with you once of my favorite poem from the Kochi Muziris Biennale 2016 that we attended yesterday.

Found this at Fadi building, Bazaar Street, Mattancherry.

The sea murmurs through the window, the wind climbs unnoticed, flirting with the dusty walls of an abandoned staircase at Bazaar road.

A stranger enters the empty room Her eyes, uncertain Stroke the roof Bite the corners Gulp the floors The ship screams afar, Loud floating like the colours on the walls Steady like the wooden doors Like an old neighbour, who never leaves you. The space grasps screaming holds a library of voices within. Drifting clouds of the informal Distant conversations, Endless, like long corridors, surround her. Pressing her, to release secrets Toxic Hot Perfumed The space craves for it, The rumbling stomach of the space Hungry for works. She looks up “What do you want?” Distortion The foundation trembles. Sound of sand churning. Somebody shuffles his feet on the ground floor, perhaps a door closes on the second floor. There is fresh white paint on the walls a potential space for fiction or a resurrecting dead gallery? Her fingers slide along the blue stained walls. The paint peels off, piles up She discovers scars, an archaeological wound. Will she expose it? dream? Or cover it with a thick layer of a morning A figure, a passerby: the stranger, the observer, researcher, curator. She switches on the lights and collects her thoughts: crawling away from her, she throws open the window. The room spreads its limbs, It takes a deep breath. 6 A haunting moment in the timeline, She takes a step back. The atelier never could scare her

The Students’ Biennale 2016 Curatorial Team

Love and Light, Bi.

[disasterandtriumph]

The mathematical and cosmic art of S.H.Raza and Zaha Hadid

Dear Kee, Today I would like to share with you the two major influential personalities that tunes my perception towards what art forms are for me. For me geometry is the genesis of every creation and energy is the soul of that creation. When these two are put in form of abstract art they can make you wonder ponder and fall deep into it. The complex beauty of these creations lies in simple lines and curves. S.H. Raza And Indian born French artist who took Indian cosmology and philosophies into his abstract art and created the most beautiful paintings. Zaha Hadid An Iraqi born British architect who is the probably the only famous female architect in the world. She is called the 'Queen of curves'. She did her PhD in mathematics after studying architecture. The way she uses lines and curves would make you rethink of what we know and what could be doing of such simple geometric objects. For me she is Einstein of deconstructive architecture. Live and Light, Bi

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Deadlines

Dear Bi,

So, today was one of those days when you feel all you’ve been doing is exhaling without taking any breaths in. When you're trying your best to keep up, but people and circumstances surprise you with more stuff to do, that are also priorities for some goddamn reason.

Today I experienced 2 things.

The first being the ‘deadline motivation,’ which sadly, I’m no outsider to. There’s something about a looming deadline that makes you work smarter and get stuff done. It’s not the best feeling and it’s certainly not fun. I’m sure most people feel glad and amazed at the amount of work they got done in such a short amount of time, on contrary, for me, I’m just morbid by the end of it.

The reason for this is also the second thing I experienced. Today, I was my most productive, but not my best. I found myself doing for the sake of doing. What I did wasn’t bad, it was quite good actually, but not having the space for a more elaborate thought process drains me.

But one thing I’ve always been the best at during deadlines, is time management. I’m my own inspiration for this, although I don’t know how I can apply this to when time isn’t holding a gun at my head.

I know this post sucks big time, there’s no introspection, there’s no perspective, just raw emotion. But the reason I still decided to post this is because I rather put something up rather than skip and wait for a time when I’m more composed. Because life, sadly, isn’t gonna get any lighter, there’ll always be stuff that’s higher priority. And we just need to learn to think faster, work smarter, write better. And the only way to do that, is to push whatever we can out, in whatever state it is. Because next time, in a similar situation, the next one will be better.

I suppose that’s what deadlines do to you, make you better. Now, all I have to do is learn to love it.

Until next week,

Kee

[disasterandtriumph]

Claude Monet

Dear Bi,

It’s well knows that Monet’s obsession with light drove him to paint the same subject multiple times to observe light’s effects on them. His incredible fascination of everyday surroundings never seemed to take a turn towards ‘mundane’. He could, quite literally, see things in ‘new light’ every time, without ever losing interest in the subject.

It seems as though, to him, beauty isn’t attached to the subject itself, but is coupled with the context it’s placed in. Without this context, all the paintings would look exactly the same and absolutely monotonous and dull.

So, is anything ever really monotonous? Or is it our inability to distill out the varying contexts that makes our lives bland?

Here’s a collection of some of Monet’s paintings and below are some from the ‘Houses of Parliament’ series.

Until next week,

Kee

[disasterandtriumph]

TO LIVE A HOUSE, Alvaro Siza

Dear Ki,

An essay by architect Alvaro Siza.

This essay always intrigues me to push a little more towards being a sensible and sensitive architect. Hope you enjoy read. I don’t want to say much about his work here instead click on the link above and see it for yourself. 

I’ve never been able to build a house, a real house. I am not referring to designing and building houses, minor thing that I still get to do, I do not know if correctly.

The idea that I have of a house is that of a complicated machine, where every day something breaks down: a bulb, faucet, drain, lock, hinge, jack, and then the heater, the stove, refrigerator, television or video; and the washing machine, or the fuses, springs drapes, or the safety lock. The drawers get stuck, the carpets and upholstery of the living room sofa breaks. All shirts, socks, sheets, handkerchiefs, napkins and tablecloths, tea towels, all lie broken by the ironing board, whose protective fabric also has a shabby appearance. There are roof leaks (the neighbor pipes breaks down, or a roof tile breaks or the insulation fabric comes off). And the gutters are full of dry leaves, the copings loose or rotten. When there is a garden, the grass grows menacingly, and all the time in the world is insufficient to dominate the wrath of nature; fallen petals and legions of ants invade the doorways, there are always dead birds, mice and cats. The chlorine in the pool is exhausted and the sewage breaks; no cleaner can restore the transparency of water or absorb the legs of insects thin as hairs. The granite of floors or paths gets covered with a dangerous sludge, varnish darkens, layers of paint peel off and expose the knots of unprotected wood. Any old people’s finger can dig a hole in the carpentries, the windows are broken, the putty has fallen, and the silicone off from surfaces, there is mold in the cabinets and drawers, and cockroaches resist to insecticides. Whenever we seek the necessary can the oil runs out, wooden boards are detached, the tiles are off, first one, then the whole wall. And if it were only that!

To live in a house, a real house, is a full-time job. The homeowner is both firefighter on duty (the houses often burn or flood, or gas escapes without noise, and usually explodes); is a nurse (have you never nailed a wood chip from the handrail deep into the root of your nails?) and a lifeguard. He (or she) masters all the arts and professions, specializes in physics, in chemistry, and is a lawyer – or does not survive. Is a telephonist and receptionist on duty, he phones at every moment, looking for plumbers, carpenters, masons, electricians, and then opens them the main door, or the service one, accompanying them with servility; because on them it depends, but nothing prevents the need for a complete office that also declines. And then you need to sharpen the knife blades, purchase accessories, grease, sort, dehumidify; the dryer fails immediately, then the air conditioning, and the radiators.

However, nothing surpasses the torture of books that move by themselves mysteriously, disorganizing in purpose attracting dust on their backs and magnetic thickness. The dust enters through the top of pages, tiny bugs eat them with an indescribable noise; pages stick, the leather stains, raindrops coming out of vases with dying flowers drip on the illustrations, cross the fabrics in a raging dissolution process. The welcome mat at the back door comes undone and there is a deep crack in the wood, the leaves of reed brooms unattached, precious objects are broken, the boards of tables and furniture open in terrifying bursts, the water tank doesn’t work, the chimney gets full of soot -burns any day-, the Great Grandmother glasses break in the sideboard, green wine bottles with almost no sugar give life to burst, corks pop, or rot, exactly the most appreciated harvest loses quality. When for the first time a light bulb fails and is not immediately replaced, the whole house is left without light, which inevitably happens on a Saturday, while at the same time a tire of the only car available bursts.

Thats why I consider heroic to own, maintain and renovate a house. In my opinion, there should exist The Order of House Curators, where each and every year, a corresponding honor mention and an elevated money prize would be awarded.

But when that effort of maintenance is not apparent, when the healthy smell of wax in a house, properly ventilated, mixes with the scent of flowers in the garden, when in it us -her visitors irresponsibly inattentive to the instants of happiness-, we feel happy, forgetting our anguish of nomadic barbarians, then the only possible medal is gratitude, the silent applause; a moment of pause, looking around us, immersing us in a golden atmosphere of an autumn interior, at the end of the day.

Love and Light,

Bi

[disasterandtriumph]

Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it's better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.

Marilyn Monroe

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(Heartwarming) Films

 Dear Bi,

Films have this amazing power to make us feel connected to the characters they showcase, so much so, that we think of them as our surrogate kin we’ve known all our lives.

They have this innate ability to empathise with our ups and downs better than the people in our lives do.

They let us live our daydreams for those 2 hours we spend with them at the theaters.

Everyone’s better in films, moms, dads, brothers, friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, arch nemeses, teachers, lawyers, doctors, good guys, bad guys, everyone’s just plain better.

They paint a picture of human perfection and imperfections. They make us want to become better people by following their footsteps or learning through their errors, even if the lesson’s forgotten the next minute.

Films are our truest friends. Because the world might let you down, but there’s little possibility that your best friend behind that screen will.

Here’re some of my favorite heartwarming films that I know you’d love too:

Rachel getting married | Jonathan Demme | 2008 | English

Kheer | Surya Balakrishnan | 2017 | Hindi | Short

Partly Cloudy | Peter Shon | 2009 | Short

Her | Spike Jonze | 2013 | English

Charulata | Satyajit Ray | 1964 | Bengali

Kaaka Muttai | M. Manikandan | 2014 | Tamil

Little Terrorist | Ashvin Kumar | 2004 | Rajasthani | Short

How to train your Dragon 2 | Dean DeBlois | 2014 | English

The Intouchables | Olivier Nakache, Eric Toledano | 2011 | French

Amelie | Jean-Pierre Jeunet | 2001 | French

Hachi: A Dog’s Tail | Lasse Hallström | 2009

The Japanese Wife | Aparna Sen | 2010 | Bengali

Until next week,

Kee

[disasterandtriumph]

Butterfly Effect

Dear Bi

The Butterfly Effect is a concept in chaos theory that suggests that some, almost seemly insignificant events, can have a large impact on the final outcome. For example, the single flutter of a butterfly in Brazil can cause a hurricane in Texas. Although, the accuracy of the example is debatable, the concept overall is very fascinating.

It basically means that our lives are a result of not just our decisions and actions or that of our families or that of our acquaintances, but a combination of them, plus the actions and outcomes of the entire universe.

Everytime you cross a street and you meet eyes with a random stranger going about their own day, you’ve together changed the course of all our lives. If you didn’t see that face, all our lives would quite possibly be different. Just as much as the change in the course of the everything has been set by your reading this. We are bound by a world where our dreams and opportunities aren’t just our resolve, but the presence or absence of these opportunities are part of the grander scheme that is outside of anyone’s control.

This thought has always risen one question in my head. Everytime I learn about acts of terror, mass murders in the past and present, poverty in certain parts of the world, animal torture, forest fires, etcetera, etcetera, I know that my life has been wonderful because those things happened and/or are continuing to happen. So the question is, do these make me a bad person? To feel relieved if not happy over my own comforts? Because my very existence is also the cause of those events as much as the events acknowledge mine.

Until next week,

Kee

[disasterandtriumph]

Shine on you crazy diamond.

“Without music, life would be a mistake.” 

- Friedrich Nietzsche

My Dear Kee,

Music makes your world go around. It makes you feel happy, makes you feel loved and surely makes the world a better place. So when ever life feels dull put on favourite track shut your eyes and soak in all the good vibes. Go into the world that makes you smile, be it mountains, beaches, green grass or just into space with the stars. And when you open your eyes you will see the world around you in a different way. All bright and shinny.

Sharing with you one of my favourite track from my one favourite band and here are the lyrics. This track was dedicated to their band member Syd Barret when he left earth.

Shine On You Crazy Diamond (Pts. 1-7)

Pink Flyod

Remember when you were young?  You shone like the sun.  Shine on, you crazy diamond  Now there a look in your eyes  Like black holes in the sky  Shine on, you crazy diamond  You were caught in the crossfire  Of childhood and stardom,  Blown on the steel breeze  Come on you target  for faraway laughter;  Come on you stranger, you legend,  You martyr, and shine 

You reached for the secret  too soon  You cried for the moon  Shine on, you crazy diamond  Threatened by shadows at night  And exposed in the light  Shine on, you crazy diamond  Well, you wore out your welcome  With random precision  Rode on the steel breeze  Come on you raver, you seer of visions;  Come on you painter, you piper,  You prisoner, and shine 

Nobody knows where you are,  How near or how far  Shine on, you crazy diamond  Pile on many  more layers  And I’ll be joining you there  Shine on, you crazy diamond  And we all bask in the shadow  Of yesterdays triumph  And sail on the steel breeze  Come on you boy child, you winner and loser,  Come on you miner for truth and delusion,  And shine.

Love and light, Bi

[disasterandtriumph]

Marjane Satrapi

Dear Bi,

Marjane Satrapi, an Iranian-born-French, is the author of the autobiographical graphic novel Persepolis, which depicts her life growing up in Iran during the Islamic revolution.

One of the chapters describes her encounter with a police officer while she was wearing lipstick, which then, was illegal. Fearing arrest, she decided to divert his attention towards another man, falsely accusing him of sexual assault. Although, being initially proud of her ability to tackle the situation avoiding arrest, she later realises the atrocity of the act.

Although anyone else would’ve probably done something similar if placed in a situation like hers, but I suppose most wouldn’t disclose such information fearing social contempt. But Marjane is brave enough to own up to her misconduct, and she shifts her value system from what was initially right, into a wrong.

And I think that’s one of the important learning that we’ll have. To be able to accept our former values and let go of them, if they aren’t fit for ourselves or our society, and to change or evolve them into new ones where they can be contextually correct.

Until next week,

Kee

[disasterandtriumph]

Gautam Buddha

Dear Kee,

Gautam Buddha has been a very big influence in my life for what I have now become or trying to mould my mind thoughts. The will power and calmness he has had and how he trained his mind body and soul is the way I look at myself when it comes to taking decisions or when I am lost. So the quote I posted means what you think you become.

Our thoughts and actions are always in sync either consciously or sub consciously. We may be in state of denial sometimes that, don’t know what we are talking or doing. like anger is an emotion what we feel overpowers our thinking. But that according to me is that what we wanted at that moment. It is how you train your mind to channelize the energies in you to become the person you want to be. Accepting all emotions and yet being at peace is key to understanding the purpose of life. I hope I am making sense to you.

Love and Light Bi

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Yad Bhavam Tad Bhavati.

Gautam Buddha

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Evolution

Dear Bi, Two of many driving factors of evolution are random mutations and natural selection. Which means that the 'life' we know today, wasn't designed, it was just a series of fortunate or unfortunate mistakes caused by various factors. Life never intended to create intelligent and curious beings or colourful creatures that could fly or one celled organisms that could wipe away millions of other beings. It just happened. And it continues to happen. Through mistakes. Imagine if genes were always copied perfectly and external factors were always constant, we probably would still be that first single celled organism that lived in the depth of the ocean. We're different because we weren't made perfect, because we're all just one big happy mistake. Until next week, Kee

[disasterandtriumph]

Dear Kee,

My lunatic whims are their laws.

Uninspired. Demotivated. Angry. Disbelief. Delusional. Ego. Sad. Failure. Emptiness.

These were the emotions that overtook on Sunday and I was deprived of all the goodness and positive vibes in me that I generally carry with me.

You know who cheered me up! Calvin!

Love and Light

Bi

[disasterandtriumph]

Richard Feynman

Dear Bi,

The world sees Richard P Feynman as a Nobel Prize winning theoretical physicist. I see him as a man who lived a complete, happy life, enough to die with little to no regrets.

In his autobiography, ‘Surely, you’re joking Mr. Feynman,’ I presumed to discover his inclination towards physics and the years of study and hard work that lead to his Nobel Prize. But instead he has described the time he spent observing ants, learning to draw, learning to play the bongo, performing in a parade, nights spent at clubs picking up women, peeing upside down to prove a point, pranks pulled off at MIT, travel to other countries, languages learnt, his obsession over picking locks, his observations as a professor at various universities and many other such events. In a nearly 350 page book, his chapter on the Nobel Prize, was no more than 10 pages long. Imagine living a life so full of adventure that the greatest achievement of your life, such as winning a Nobel Prize, pales in comparison to everything else.

It’s quite evident that he loved to learn. And he didn’t shy away from any opportunity that was presented to him, whether it was learning to draw, to repair people’s radios, to play the bongo or to help shape the curriculum of schools. Any new skill acquired was the result of hard work, study and a ‘have fun with it’ attitude. His actions were void of guilt or the fear of societal pressures or seniority. He was opinionated and sure of himself but listened to reason and was willing to update his views if required.

All in all, he didn’t take life too seriously and he just did whatever made him happy. And maybe that’s the secret to his Nobel Prize and why at the end of the day, it wasn’t a big deal to him.

Best, till next week

Kee

[disasterandtriumph]

L.O.V.E

My Dear Kee,

Till today morning I was won dering what inspires me, drives me. And I felt it’s love. I am a hopeless romantic who falls in love with a lemon tree one day, her turtle ‘pebbla’ the other and a charming guy she just met the third. It inspires me to think beyond the boundaries it inspires me to grow it inspires me to channelize my dreams and desires. It’s not only about loving something someone it is about becoming love yourself. You are the energy that creates loves, that nurtures your soul. So today what I will be sharing is a few of my favorite stanza of some of the poems that define the very being of a life. Also, my version of being in love with another human. I will write for my love for love in the following week and I would like to add a line after experiencing it everytime for a week.

As I Walked Out One Evening W. H. Auden, 1907 - 1973

‘I’ll love you till the ocean Is folded and hung up to dry And the seven stars go squawking Like geese about the sky. ‘The years shall run like rabbits, For in my arms I hold The Flower of the Ages, And the first love of the world.’ But all the clocks in the city Began to whirr and chime: ‘O let not Time deceive you, You cannot conquer Time. 'In the burrows of the Nightmare Where Justice naked is, Time watches from the shadow And coughs when you would kiss. 'In headaches and in worry Vaguely life leaks away, And Time will have his fancy To-morrow or to-day.

Sonnet XVII

Pablo Neruda

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way than this: 

where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

The Daffodils

William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud  That floats on high o'er vales and hills,  When all at once I saw a crowd,  A host, of golden daffodils;  Beside the lake, beneath the trees,  Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. 

Continuous as the stars that shine  And twinkle on the milky way,  They stretched in never-ending line  Along the margin of a bay:  Ten thousand saw I at a glance,  Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. 

The waves beside them danced; but they  Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:  A poet could not but be gay,  In such a jocund company:  I gazed—and gazed—but little thought  What wealth the show to me had brought: 

For oft, when on my couch I lie  In vacant or in pensive mood,  They flash upon that inward eye  Which is the bliss of solitude;  And then my heart with pleasure fills,  And dances with the daffodils. 

In their way.

Bijal Parikh

A glance at the moon and the world stopped It illuminated their soul It held his breath and cradled her dreams A stare in the orange wine sky They stood there on the mountains edge while the sea swallowed the sun A sigh, a lovers hug and eyes that reached out for the last kiss It was all there In the moment of eternity In the moment of nothingness That afternoon they shared the bits written with the paper A time, a place and a song When the sun bird sang it’s dusk song Apocalypse a beginning of an end The lunch is served said the boy A box with love and box with food They exchanged a smile and the insides With their hearts on their sleeves and Minds in their pockets You look happy You look dreamy The words after good morning Before they separated for the day A cuddle, a snuggle A chase, a game the tender rise of the sun The rays gently touched them To the morning they thanked Blessed were they For they saw a shine, a hope, a wish In the love That we all bask in.

Love and light Bi