of clay and dust.

two hundred kilometers into the land
from the western coast of india
there is a town dusty, old and fading.
its qualities are not obvious to the eye
but they are special.
limestone hides beneath it.
and the sun shows off overhead.
it is a potter's town.
that is not reason to be awed by it.
no, not until you hear that the pots
are made to store
pickles.

when i was little
i saw these pots hiding shyly in corners
of my mother's kitchen.
and i hid behind them.
then they faded away
like all good things that wait patiently
for their turn to be useful again.
now i see them in stores, these pots,
dressed in retro and urban chic.
being fussed and drooled over by
nouveau designers and excites home makers.
and my mind wanders back to this town.

only a few of the old families
make these pots now.
others have found new ways to use the limestone,
but none of them as pretty
as the pickle pots.








p.s.
how is it that the skies
never cease to take our breath away
no matter which city we are in.
the same blues and oranges and purples and pinks
splashed around on a canvas

the blues

there should be an extra hour for love.
you only get it if you spend it in love.
doing something you love. with someone you love.
or both.
am i saying love too often?

i feel too caught up by work.
and the work of my loved ones.
there is never an hour when we are free
together.
and ever so slowly my life is slipping by
doing necessary chores and running
mundane errands.
it really bothers me,
this life slipping by bit.

this morning i woke up
and saw the blue of the sea
rushing in through my window.
this part of the day is the only one
that is truly mine.
when i turn away from the window,
the sea rolls back,
but the blues never leave.

three months since i said hello.
one must think i don't love the blog enough.
not true.
i just love living more.

i spent the last three months
chasing deadlines and a little brat,
catching up with aldous huxley and will durant
and taking advantage of the weather
to go on little picnics.
i celebrated three birthdays
in january
one of them being mine.
and then pondered how i felt being
all of thirty three years.
i'll be honest.
it didn't feel very different from being
thirty two.

but there is something about 2013.
a sense that all is possible in
its twelve months.
do you feel that too?

here is what i saw in the evenings
over the last three months.

hear hear

i have finally managed to unpack the bags from trips near and far
and take a minute to look out of my window.

the season to celebrate is here.
to share meals with friends,
hunt down recipes and home decor ideas,
to dress up in fuchsia and red and hues bold.

i am going to paint my walls
and my nails,
stuff a rusted bird cage with gilded butterflies
and find a magical place to hide
many many cartons.

the other thing i am going to do
is call friends to stare at a sunset,
with drinks of colours borrowed from it.
ah, i am so excited!
this is my favorite part of the year.

below is a sneak peak into the new stuff i have been designing.
the pictures are boring, i must warn you.

in citrus and health

i want to tell you about my weakness.
it is crunchy, fresh salad.
i can eat one for lunch and dinner and in between.
of course, i don't.
(what i eat instead is stretches the patience
of the double strength threads of my shirts
and the otherwise flexible zip
in my skirts.)

fresh, bright coloured, happy fruits and vegetables
paired with each other for a tango
on taste buds.
ah.
i also want to tell you
that the soul of a salad lies in its
dressing.
and i found one that is just perfect
in a kitchen inspired by the pioneer woman.
it is orange and beautiful.
it smells like sunshine
and it tastes like heaven.

take the juice of one small orange and a lime
add in some grated ginger
a tablespoon or less or more of honey
depending on how you prefer it
and finely finely chopped mint leaves,
one or two.
whisk it all together like you mean it.
use it to dress your fruit salads.
you will love it, i promise you.

and isn't this art just perfect for your kitchen?

via pinterest