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“Is Neha’s order ready, please remember to ship it today Ayesha!” “We have to add blue leaves to the yellow gajra for Sunita Madam from Kanpur.” An eventful scenario of customisations and rushed orders for a wedding or a naming ceremony is our everyday story. We ‘home-grown brands’ take pride in creating bespoke products for people who believe in mindful living. Collectively we, you who wear and us who make, extend the joy of the handmade inspired by ages-old rituals of sustainability. For us, less is more....
“Mummy kahan ho?”“Mummy…..??”The first word that comes out of me as I step into my parents home every single time, be it years back when I lived there or now when I visit Saharanpur. A warm spontaneous call for…”Mummyy..!!” has to be heard by every corner of the house before anything else is said or observed! It's an eternal conversation, between a mother and the child. This call for each other that ignites love with each syllable spoken out loud. I love my mother. As easy as it feels and sounds, often with my generation expressing this love in words doesn’t come easy, for in our childhood motherly love was overstuffing us with mitha or saving us from the evils of this world with a magical nazar ka tikka!...
A hundred thousand hugs for the hundred thousand hearts that have stepped beside us and walked us here. #CelebrationCelebrating this milestone we reflect upon and process the mesmerizing venture that began with one and is at one lakh today. Little did we know when we ironed, folded and shipped our first product, that 8 years hence we'll be overjoyed seeing our community reach this huge huge huge number. Wasn't it just a moment ago when the Nomad saga started to unfold with our first post on Instagram. Awestruck we thank social media for being the free platform that has been miraculous for a home grown brand like us. Who could have thought prior to the hashtag era that someone sitting across the globe could connect to us with the speed of thought itself? A blink and we talk!...
"हज़ार बर्क़ गिरे लाख आँधियाँ उट्ठें वो फूल खिल के रहेंगे जो खिलने वाले हैं"The radio recites Sahir ludhiyanvi as a couple of ladies work with deft fingers dancing rhythmically on hundreds of flowers. There's a riot of voices and yet the words hang in the air for a moment before they fall and embrace the heap of raat rani blooms as if toasting the very resilient feminine energy. Flowers made by flower like women who bloom every day together, balancing the universe with their superpower of adding life to everything they touch. For us everyday is Women's day, we are lives in eternal celebration.Creating, making, nurturing, stretching boundaries, like a river always making our way through life. Taking this further, we want to talk about one dream we had, wove and brought to life together....
What’s in the name? one might ask, just as Shakespeare did centuries ago! We say a name is the most personal thing attached with humans, pets, homes, books, even a dress! We name things when we get involved with them at the level of the heart....
Two happy dogs welcome her with wagging tails as she walks into our home on a pre lockdown Saturday morning.Prapti screeches with laughter as she jumps around in what seems like a scared-of-pets special performance!Well, we lock ourselves into a room because we don't believe our furry homies should be! So for a while, we have this conversation with her in a locked room! Haha! A writer by profession she ventured into content creating with videos that tickle your funny bone at the same time hitting issues that need to be talked about more often!(In Lawn Butter Chanderi Dress)Taking me through her journey, she tells "I have always been a writer, videos just happened to me. Idiva was shutting down the department I was working in and as they liked my writing they asked me to try being in the video team. I said why not!...
Chapter 01 "Art has no gender And neither do artists" Priya wears our Pyaari Baalis Says Priya Malik in her recent poem.A true influencer who is art personified from the way she speaks to the way she carries herself around.Holding her ground in contemporary poetry and spoken art, she spins magic with words.She portrays the collective conscience of women who turn their passion into their careers.With anti discriminatory causes, she doesn't bite her tongue against biases.A millennial who enjoys cooking, is fierce and gentle at the same time.She has found her calling in performing spoken word and is living a slow life. When asked who she is as a person? And how she would tell the poet in her apart from the person in her?Priya smiles softly.The Sun falling on her illuminates the swift change in emotions."As a person, I am someone who pours her heart in everything I do. I think the poet and the person are intertwined.Both together define who I am.I believe in spontaneity, change and continuity.I let myself be absorbed in the current emotions and let them take over to express myself best.I often say that I press the rewind and pause buttons of my life more than the play or forward ones....
Music is the food of soul"- Anonymous.Well said!! But also food for thought!If we begin to think how much time we spend listening to music, one would be surprised. As per various studies an average human listens to music for 1-2 hours per day, which amounts to 3-5 years of one's life. So, shouldn't we all be conscious of what we are feeding to the soul?Let that sink in.The life as such is drowned in sound....
Shivani worked at Nomad's Dehradun unit for a year and a half as a craftsperson.She took up working because of her artsy spirit and an urge to create the best world for her 7 year old son.The freedom to spend her own money, the newfound respect in her household and the joy of self sustainability inspired her to evolve further.Two months back she was with me to conduct a toy making workshop at Wynberg Allen boarding school in Mussorie.Recently with our studio being shifted to Delhi on a permanent basis, she was disheartened with a worry concerning her career.Dehradun is not a place where skilled craftsmenship is in demand. It is rather an education hub and a tourist spot.I remember telling her the day I left Dehradun “Tum schools mai apply Karo! Tumhare paas itna talent hai ki tum auro ko bhi sikha sakti ho”, She blushed. “Nahi Didi!, school mai kese karungi Mai”!I was overwhelmed with her innocence.She kept in touch over call and I was in sync with her dilemmas.Seeing her amazing learning caliber and an appetite for teaching herself new and newer things, I made a point of pushing her to apply for art & craft positions in various schools. “Tum mere kehne pe kardo....
I often wonder looking at a person talking, my eyes follow the movements of their hands and so many untold stories spill out.The shy hand tucking her hair back into place when talking of a lover, the nervous hands with fingers entwined giving away confessions, the animated hands jumping with excitement perhaps telling of an adventurous trip. I look at strangers and concoct stories. Trying to understand the language of hands. Haven't you ever looked at your hands and wondered how the nerves form patterns, patterns that is YOU. Some fingertips swollen or flat, a callous here or there like a storyteller telling tales of years of writing, typing, making, painting, scrubbing, molding, ..creating.....
Jamila looks at the vibrant scene from the rooftop. Streets are lit with fairy lights playing patterns. People flocking the streets, roofs, balconies looking at the sky with hopeful eyes.Kids engage in mirthful banter, sometimes in play and sometimes running off to Ammi asking when will the moon be sighted.The June evening lingers longer as thousands of people wait for the pious moon to break their fast of Ramadan and greet their friends, relatives and even passer-bys a happy 'Eid Mubarak'.Jamila and her friends have made out all sorts of cloud shapes in the sky fabricating stories out of them, but the moon is yet nowhere to be seen.They stroll off to another corner of the roof to see a puppeteer crossing the street when joyous sounds of "Taqabbal Allahu Minna Wa Minkum" 'May Allah accept from you and me' "chaand Raat Mubarak" erupt all around. People are laughing, hugging, celebrating, there is a happy conundrum overall.Jamila looks at the sky to see a sliver of the moon playing peek-a-boo and rising high as if in answer to the prayers of the ramadeens to shower them with blessings and love. She runs off to her cousins to greet them with muanaaqah, greeting Eid with the three hugs....
As the cartons unpacked and contents started tumbling out, one after the other, a sense of hollowness mixed with anticipation engulfed me. The life I had left behind had not left me yet. The remnants of life in the busy city of Delhi lay in heaps on the floor. I took a look at the empty house....
