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What does Rhythm mean to you?

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What does rhythm mean to you? Rhythm for me is that moment when the noises within become so chaotic that I start listing down sounds I hear around me. Morning sounds.  A prayer chant, a distinct flute and the sound of hope and belief Afternoon sounds.  A lazy cat, a quiet nap and the sound of sleep Sounds that the night carries. The moon flirting with the stars, pitch dark midnight and the sound of dreams. Just listing them down paves a trail towards silence within me. A calm blue getting stirred in a milky white with a dash of glitter, like a beautiful art piece on my mind A woman brooming her front yard, the sound of decluttering A vehicle on the street, the sound of traversing My drafting table creaking, the sound of object companionship gracefully ageing Doors opening, the sound of a new opportunity  Fly buzzing, the sound of doing nothing  Gates, neighbours and the summer sun speaking a sharp language  Children playing outside, the sound of childhood and jo...
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Journey of a thousand years in five.

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9:11. I happened to be seeing that number repeatedly since this year began. I first freaked out because it reminded me of the 9/11 disaster, and then upon googling, I found out that it is an angel number. One that signifies greater shifts and leaps in life. It must be true. Because the greater shift has arrived.  And my graduation too, happened on 9/11. College has ended and floodgates to magic have opened up. You know this is a very surreal moment for me, one that is flowing out into all corners of my heart without giving me a line to begin with. I was in the spree of posting all stories, celebrating the architects who graduated with me and finally, in the end, I presented Ar.Vajjrashri Anand in a beautiful picture that my best friend photographed. Wine coloured saree. Oxidized jewellery. Elephant shaped earrings because it is my spirit animal. The divine feminine ring. A choker. And a goddamn nose ring. I looked like a mix of a purple Barbie and a freaking Indian Goddess. I kept ...
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On seeing and being seen.

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Hello. I attended a Photography Workshop for the first time ever, and it was such an ethereal experience. By now you know that words speak to me very closely, and when I saw the poster ; I knew I had to be there. The workshop was called ~On seeing and being seen. Something so intangible and close to the kind of writing I do, so close to WHY I do the kind of writing I do. To tell a story and make people feel seen and hence loved. So, I signed up. On the day of the workshop, I had to get to the Art studio called the Sandbox collective. A building numbered 345, so home-like and quaint that Google didn't have it registered on Google maps. They'd sent an email with a landmark with a peculiar spelling of a common Indian name , reflecting the confidence and freedom with which Indians claim to spell names to their whims and fancies xD I typed on the Uber search box, it chose the location and that auto ride began. I was wearing a white crop top with olive green palazzo and a long ...
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