Kamna's Blog

I worry about - - not having enough space for you - the available mindspace not being fertile enough for your nourishment. Like a middle aged Indian aunty fussing over a houseguest - the confines of my mind not being enough for you to be conjured with the sass and spontaneity they show in movies. No fiery a-HA! moment would be possible because of all my careful caution -  not being open enough and rejecting you without reasoning You're just an idea who will - - pay only as much rent as would be the agreement  - take up only so much space as per my consent  - continue your tenancy for only as long as I want you around  - stay conspicuously absent unless I bring you front and center to the living room of my head You're just an idea who could - - breathe new life into old, likely rusty, chains of thought - delicately or assertively rubbish old comfortable notions  - change the way I feel about the morning sun  - radically impact my sense of humour about life...

I've been thinking about the Grand Canyon, and simply thinking about it doesn't encapsulate how vast it is. The thought cannot accommodate it. It's like thinking about the universe, and the limitlessness of it, and how futile an effort it is for a small mind to just understand. To just understand what it is like to have such a wide, deep, long, unexplored mass of space. You can't understand it. Just like you can't understand death; or life even. The Grand Canyon exists to remind us of who we are; who you are. It exists to say "Hello, I'm here. I've been here 6 million years. Can you understand me? Do you dare to?" I'm moved. Terrified. Humbled. Shaken. Taken. By something that hasn't moved in 6 million years. And I felt like sharing how I'm feeling, almost 2 months since I went to see the place, just as a tourist, just for a couple of hours. No pictures can really do it justice. No month long trips can do it justice. Nothing, and n...

I wrote this post as an answer to a very dear friend's request a couple of years ago. Nice to have a log of these kind of things. 1. Pugs/Dogs 2. Pirogi 3. Jigsaw puzzle 4. Oranges 5. Sleep 6. Knitting 7. Long walks 8. Singing 9. Listening to music 10. Dreams 11. Period dramas 12. Travelling - train, bus and plane 13. Chocolate 14. Tea 15. Love 16. Roller coasters 17. Long drives 18. Having a quiet conversation when it is quiet 19. Animated movies and cartoons 20. Playing with babies and infants 21. Taking photos 22. Painting my nails 23. Wearing eyeliner 24. Oiling my hair and tying two plaits 25. Looking through old things I have saved for memory safekeeping 26. Dancing with abandon 27. That energetic healthy feeling after working out at the gym 28. When my hair is played with 29. Way 'he' smiles at me 30. When I shower after sweating a lot in the heat and sun 31. New shampoo/soap/conditioner 32. Lip balms...

I am, and always have been, for as long as I can recall, utterly smitten by the moon. Nothing else is quite shocking, that blatantly reminding of the fact that we are a part of something beyond daily absurdities. Why I'm writing about my Moon Affinity (Moonity)? Because I am awake much earlier than expected on a public holiday and I've had a message from my sister asking me why both my status and profile picture on WhatsApp is about the moon. And because I gave her such a detailed reply, it only triggered the writer in me and I knew I would have to come and spew it all on this vastly ignored blog. My relationship with the moon has been cultivating itself from a very young age. My earliest memory of the moon is reading about it with my sister in this cute children's book. It was probably a different story or poem but I keep thinking it was in the same book or part of the story where there is a shoehouse where the house is a big boot, and people, or some kind of animals, w...

This is a "quick! post something before September's gone and I've broken the blogged-every-month-this-year streak" post. I like to make art sometimes. Visit this link to an album I created to be mind blown and have possibly cathartic epiphanies. :P  Seeeee !!! And some random Scrabble pictures:

If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you; If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too: If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies, Or being hated don't give way to hating, And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise; If you can dream---and not make dreams your master; If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim, If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same:. If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools; If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings, And never breathe a word about your loss: If you can force your heart and nerve and si...

This blog post is going to be a very bloggy type of post where I am going to attach pictures and use numbering and make it look all nice and organised. I've been doing a lot of art/craft, not sure if that's the word to use, but off late, I have been doing some nice things with my time. Like, 1. Me and a friend together made bags! The small sling ones! The canvas tote bags! 2. I made wine! It took me 42 days and I used  this . This is what it looked like on Day 1! And on Day 42! 3. I made a body wash out of this Dove bar . Step 1 - Grate! Step 2 - Boil with water!   Step 3 - Bottle and LABEL bitches! Toodles.

Have you ever gone to bed after a pretty lousy and long day, dead tired, and all dismayed from the aftertaste of the day’s events, when you lay your head on the pillow and look out the window, and see the moon through everything else blocking the view? It’s the best thing in the world. Through the mesh and the grill it lies. A perfectly circular moon. The only distinct thing in the sky. Standing out in all its brightness. It’s whiteness against the black. So beautiful. What if the whole sky was white, and there was a black moon instead. Would that be equally wondrous? Or is it because we’ ve since time immemorial, made white so great. What if black were to become the new white? Did god predetermine this when he was creating this world? A blob of white against the backdrop of black? Lol i think I'm just really sleepy. It’s 3 in the morning. Goodbye Moon.

So I'm sitting on my usual study spot on the bed, half-studying, half day-dreaming, when a sudden sound grabs my attention. It's a high-pitched chirp, reminiscent of a familiar sound. I look out my window and wonder, could it really be her? I mean it could be, Marianne did always have that something extra, that certain boldness you will not find in any bird. Looking at the bird, so confusedly excited she appeared, fluttering up and down on the different levels of the grill, I felt more and more sure that this could be Marianne. She looked different, dirty, like the city pollution got to her, but somehow I felt like it could be her. The extended tail and kind-of-orange beak was so characteristic of her, and the jumping around was an added effect. It was rather believable that she would have such amazing navigation skills. After all, she did escape on her own. Here's the story behind Marianne and Johnson, or rather Mumu and Jumbo as I fondly addressed them, or Cran and Be...

TELL me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream ! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real ! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal ; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way ; But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day. Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle ! Be a hero in the strife ! Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant ! Let the dead Past bury its dead ! Act,— act in the living Present ! Heart within, and God o'erhead ! Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time ; Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn mai...