When in doubt, Zine it out!

Art retreat, Nostalgia and the week that was.

The window next to where I am writing this post opens up to the most beautiful place in the world. Yet, when I look out of it, I feel a mix of happiness, sadness, nostalgia, and age.

I am writing from my friend’s home today. The window overlooks the colony where I lived for a decade in Mumbai. From the 14th floor of his tower, I can clearly spot my old two-story building. If I look long enough, I almost start to see myself exiting the building and walking towards my bike.

Walking through the lanes of the place where you spent important years of your life is like experiencing sweet pain. While the nostalgic memories make me smile, coming to terms with the constant influx of life is painful.

I am a very nostalgic person by nature. I am deeply attached to the remnants of the past. Whenever I visit cities where I have lived, I tend to revisit the places where I spent time before I explore the city further. It’s almost like a pilgrimage I owe to myself. The very act of returning to a place where you once lived and are now revisiting speaks volumes about the absurdity of human life.

I am reminded of the many moments of anxiety I faced, the insecurities I dealt with, but also the many happy and joyful events that made up my life. Remembering it all after a couple of years makes me wonder if all that I am carrying within me right now will just be a nostalgic memory one day. What good is all this?

It helps to have some people from your earlier years around who still remember you, and if that’s not the case, I feel unacknowledged of my presence there as a pilgrim.

For example, whenever I visit my college—the place where I studied for three years—I feel foreign and out of place. A place that I once called my own and walked with pride now stands unaffected by my presence. I felt quite similar standing next to my old building today, looking up at the home that housed me for 10 years.

If it could speak, I wonder what it would say. I cried during the last few nights I spent there. I literally hugged the walls, kissed the door, and painfully said goodbye to the house. Today, standing beneath it, I just hope that my love continues to reverberate in the halls of the house for the family that lives there. Life is a funny phenomenon. By no means do I wish to deconstruct it, but yes, reflecting on it and writing it out helps me make peace with its absurdities.

Thank you for sharing the heaviness and sweetness of nostalgia with me.

Sharing a few photographs of the place I called home for 10 years. These photographs are from 2021-22, just before I moved out in May 2022. I have a million photos of this place, each one special and dear to me. Choosing just a few to share here was tough, but I hope you enjoy them.

Memories from a decade in Chembur, Mumbai

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Last week, I was in Karjat, Maharashtra, facilitating a corporate art retreat for 150 people. I was not alone in this. I had an amazing team of four other people with me. Together, we designed, created, and facilitated a safe, empathetic, and nurturing space with art at the centre. Taking up this project was a huge leap for me. As someone who grew up with major social anxiety and had stage fear for most of my life, facilitating such a large crowd was a task beyond my confidence. It was only this year in March 2024 that I slowly got used to facilitating small groups.

Regardless of my fears and apprehensions, the retreat went REALLY well for all of us.

The crowd was very different from what I usually engage with, and yet again, my belief was reconfirmed: Art is transformative, and it has the power to help people get closer to themselves.

On the first day of the retreat, as we were welcoming participants, I was at the front door, greeting people and prompting them to write name cards for themselves, mentioning their name and two things they love talking about (only as a means for people to find like-minded individuals). To my disbelief, most participants were reluctant to fill in the tag, fearing they would be asked to speak about it in front of everyone.

Of course, there was no judgment in their apprehension, but I realized that we, as facilitators, would need to provide a little more hand-holding and grounding to prepare the participants.

Using various art techniques like movement, dance, storytelling, writing, theatre, and multiple games over four days, we brought about something in the participants. Art is not a quantifiable subject, but we could see and observe how the participants were sharing and expressing a lot more after each session.

It was a delight to hear about the participants' experiences. They were also kind in their praises and made us all feel like superheroes (which we are!).

Sharing a few snippets from the retreat

A special moment from the retreat was during the Zine Making workshop that I was facilitating. While I knew how to make zines and was comfortable with writing, my fear of drawing held me back from making a zine myself. During the workshop, when I had given the participants time to make their zines, I decided to make one for myself.

I did that, and while the zine is special, what was even more striking is that I ended up making four zines in the next couple of days, just out of pure fun. I would grab any A4-size paper, turn it into a zine, and then quickly draw something and create a story. Zines became my way of expression during the retreat, and as an artist, if there is one thing I am taking for myself, it is the habit of making zines. I hope to have my house flooded with zines—good, bad, colourful, and black-and-white. I am going zine-maniac!

Here is a zine I made. Let me know if you’re interested in checking it out.

Few photographs of the moon in Karjat.

Romancing the moon

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I am spending a lot of time meeting old friends, spending time in the colony, and reminiscing about my time in Mumbai. While this city houses so many of my loved ones, I feel stretched having to make plans with so many friends every day to accommodate meeting everyone. It’s tiring and exhausting, but I miss them all so much, and I’m greedy in the sense of wanting to meet as many of my friends as possible.

Like visiting old places, meeting old friends is also a testament to both our growth, an acknowledgement of our journeys, and just general play and games. Here’s to reminding myself to stay calm and grounded, no matter how overwhelming it gets to make plans with multiple people in the maximum city. I tell myself that it’s a good problem to have.

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For this week’s Artist Lounge:

I’m honoured to present Om, a photographer, filmmaker, facilitator and my younger brother. You can find his work here. His Instagram is here.

The Artist Lounge stems from my long-held dream of documenting the lives of artists.

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I have known Om for the past two years, and his dedication to his work and love for the craft are truly inspiring. We spent much of December 2023 together in Kutch, where he was documenting a program we were co-facilitating. I couldn’t help but notice that while Om is a good artist on his way to greatness, what makes him remarkable already is his deep respect for the resources he’s earned over the years, his innocence in learning new things, and his ability to stay in tune with himself.

Here’s to wishing Om a truckload of love, luck, and life. Cheers, brother—keep creating.

As a feature of all my newsletters, I share one song, one book, one plant-based meal, one film/video that inspired me, and some photographic updates from my life.

• Song: Sooha Saaha by Zeb Bangash has been my go-to music this past week. Amidst the hectic retreat and the busy week here in Mumbai, Zeb’s voice calms me down.

• Book: I didn’t get a chance to read a book, but I did read an amazing newsletter about the role of silence and waiting in photography that moved me. Do read it if you’re interested in photography, art, or just want a peek inside the mind of an ace photographer.

• Meal: Special mention to my friends Hoori and Dhanik for fulfilling my wish of having Gujarati breakfast in Mumbai. I had Jalebi Fafda after a long time!

Food I had throughout the week.

• Film/Video: I watched Wild Tales. A very interesting anthology that examines the themes of violence and revenge.

• Photograph: This newsletter is already quite photograph-heavy, but I hope this last set is worth the additional images. Here are the photographs of today’s sunset.

Hope you have a brilliant day and week ahead. Thank you for reading.