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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....
The old town of Saharanpur wakes up to an early morning ajaan.Birds chirp noisily as the city shakes away its slumber with rattles of tea kettles and thud of hawkers throwing bundled newspapers into house porches.The hues of dawn take over as people stir and the streets murmur with their everyday bustle.The city originally named Shah-haroonpur after Hazrat Shah Haroon Chishti retains its vintage charm with simpler people and aged houses all huddled together.Somewhere in a remote corner, few worn lanes takes me to a workshop where hands that create are busy making a pair of baalis.Baalis that'll be a part of someone's story in another corner of the world.This is the workshop where Naani'ki by Nomad comes alive.A story that has traveled from the gullies of Saharanpur to places afar."A few years ago I was gifted a pair of baalis by my Naani. My Naana had got them made for my mother's 14th birthday. The dangle and emotion behind it nudged me to look for people who can make those. Both my Daada (paternal grandfather) and my Naana (maternal grandfather) were jewelers, so the jump into digging more about the craftwork came effortlessly to me.During my course of research in vintage jewelry, I chanced upon Ehsaan and Farman.The two brothers who made pattra jewelry."PATTRA is a century-old craft. With its major influence during the pre-partition era, it had lost its hold over the dressing mirrors. The oldworld charm of the sepia-tinted bylanes and fluttering heartbeats needed to be remembered and relived. Ehsaan was trained in Karigari under the guidance of his Abbu....
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....
Swiftly she arose into the soaring winds and took flight as if in a hurry to meet the sky. Carefree, she had left all the care to the winds and us puny humans I guess. Oh am talking of the kite we flew and not me. Or perhaps a part of my soul went to the sky with chakori....
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....
"Ouch! It hurts Ma!"I made a face as Ma tugged at my plait fixing the end with a rubber band."Ouch! It hurts Ma!" mimicked Golu as he ran pulling a few strands out of my ponytail.Suppressing a giggle, Ma shooed Golu away and started to re-do my braid caressing where it had been pulled at.Rubbing a little oil between her hands, she began massaging my head. From the forehead, all the way back to the nape of my neck, from the eastern ear to its western counterpart....
.embed-responsive-16by9 { padding-bottom: 134.25%;} Mohammed Ehsaan is the fourth generation of pattra karigars in his family. His great grandfather was known to have made jewels for the rani of Punjab exclusively. He has watched his childhood turn to mid age around dexterity of the craft. Trained under his father ‘Miya’, he commands the artistry with Love....
The sentiment called India hit me only after having spent 3 years in America.The feeling of somewhat known consequence in both positive and otherwise state. The people more casual, a little happier and a lot juicer. Nearing towards the second world, it’s the only country with such vibrant diversity. Nomad gives itself out there in gratitude and pride for being INDIAN and being indigenously inspired by rural India....
