Something for Everywhere!
An action, conversation or observation, whether deliberate or not, can have a learning outcome. Most times, these informal take away ideas, curiosities and snippets of information stick with us longer than any knowledge read from books or other sources with the intention of being remembered. In a routine day, a series of tasks we carry out require us to physically be in a space even if we aren’t using our minds. This tends to suspend time giving us access only to the items around us. Invariably we find ways to occupy ourselves or not, by either indulging in other doings or in nothingness itself. Are our activities time specific, space specific or arbitrary? Would it be possible to introduce a new perspective of pedagogy to this fragmentation by means of a discourse of sorts?
Srishti Institute of Art, Design and Technology Copyright Š 2016 Nishqa Pillai and Vaishali Jain
The Sanctuary Peering through my childhood, a wave of vivid memories painted in blurry lines drowns me. One stands bold, forceful. He, who epitomes strength, the monkey God resides within. Situated in the midst of a busy souk, the silence of faith was tranquilizing. The singular tree, erect, in front of it the deity, unflinching. All of it bathed in the zesty morning sun. The fragrance of incense sticks filled the air with a conviction that every pilgrim recognized. The echo of bells, a feeling of belonging. In a low voice, the choruses of songs of the Divine, like a cool summer breeze blowing through the palms. The mumbled prayers, rote of a little boy, the peace of wisdom of the old man. Traffic passed, horns blew, negotiations of the surrounding market followed true, yet meekly surrendering as the commitment further grew. In my innocence, I stood before the idol, backed by my father, peeking through squinted eyes trying to trace the path the smoke took. Finishing by adding a coin to the donations box, dipping virtually every tiny finger into the vermilion holy paste, I munched on the three bits of coconut the young boy offered us as ‘prasad’. Stepping back into a reality, shielded by Him.
Nishqa Pillai 2015
“Mein apni favourite hu!” (Jab We Met)
How much Bollywood is too much Bollywood?
Microwave egg sandwich with cheddar and avacado
Serves: 1 Active time: 5 minutes Recipe by Dawn Perry
Ingredients Non-stick vegetable oil, regular vegetable oil, or unsalted butter 2 large eggs 1/8 teaspoon kosher salt pinch of fresh ground black pepper 2 tablespoons grated cheddar 2 slices toast or 1 English muffin 1/4 avocado, sliced hot sauce or pesto (for serving) Special equipment A microwave-safe, flat-bottomed bowl roughly the size of your sandwich.
Method Lightly grease the inside of your bowl. Add eggs, salt, pepper, and 1 Tbsp. water; mix with a fork until combined. Microwave on high 30 seconds; you should see bits of solid egg floating in uncooked part. Stir gently and microwave again 30 seconds or until egg puffs up dramatically. Add cheese and continue to microwave until egg is just set and cheese is melted, 15–30 seconds. Using a small spatula, transfer egg mixture to bottom toast slice. Top with avocado, drizzle with hot sauce or pesto, then remaining toast slice. Serve immediately. Cooks’ Note This recipe was developed using a 1200watt microwave. If your wattage is lower, you may have to increase cooking time.
r uq e e h s at c m r f o ns. C you e L i f t t er e f o r e m ! pa em b t he t h miss
Baabeikh Ali Ki Bori
In the city of Tahreeb, lived an old widowed man named Baabeikh Ali. He lived alone in an old stone house in the south of the city, close to the banks of the river Ayaan that flowed through the capital, dividing the city into equal halves. Tahreeb was known for its plentiful markets. Infact, a large number of city dwellers had once signed an official petition to change its name to “Bakasratan”, the city of abundance. There were markets everywhere; in the town square, in narrow gullies (lanes) between the residential buildings, around the mosques, next to bus-stops, near the river banks and also in the backyards of many private houses and government buildings. These markets overflowed with everything one could wish to buy. Flowers, muffins, milk and cufflinks, clothes, shoes, silk and little ducklings. Not one thing, but many kinds of that one thing, and not just many things, but everything. The city’s commerce ran on the shopkeepers’ sweat and hardwork. Baabeikh Ali was one of the many shopkeepers in Tahreeb. He wasn’t rich; he owned and earned just enough to sustain himself. He had a little vegetable garden in his backyard, the yield of which he would sell at a tiny makeshift shop he’d put up on the stone patio of his house twice every month. As years came to pass, Baabeikh Ali became selfish and greedy. Old age and endless loneliness made him a more sinful man than he ever was in his youthful years. He started considering himself a sinner, not because of his actions, but because of the kinds of thoughts that he had started having. He’d read in the Quran, that a sin thought of, is a sin done. He fought many demons in his head that would tell him to commit misdeeds driven by lust, greed, wrath and jealousy, in order to earn the wealth that will get him known in the crowd. Robbing closed shops of merchants and traders wealthier than himself, while they were off for their morning prayers, spoiling the rich milk seller’s produce by intoxicating his cows, ruining the goldsmith’s business by setting ablaze his workshop, etc., were plans devised by his own mind. He couldn’t help but let the devil take charge of his thoughts. He realised he was too weak to fight back. His alter-ego still held the teachings of Allah close to the heart. Baabeikh was, without a doubt, a religious man. He went to the Taj-ul mosque near the town square every morning to say his prayers. Along his journey he would have to cross the bridge of Judasheen to reach the other part of the city. The bridge of was called so because it was claimed to be the strongest bridge to have ever been built. The ropes that held it in place were blessed by the most benevolent of all Jinns, the mighty Azazel himself. Only a mightier Jinn’s curse could break the bridge, and so far, no power so supreme had come forth. Baabeikh Ali, on his way to the mosque one day, heard from a fellow vegetable seller that one of Azazel’s dearest students, Jinn Ibakeel was in town and that he was granting wishes to the needy. Many Tahreebans had already been cured of fatal diseases and many were in recovery. Baabeikh thought that this could be the only chance to save himself from the becoming a sinner.
Baabeikh Ali Ki Bori II Vaishali Jain, 2016
The next morning, Baabeikh Ali woke up earlier than usual and headed out to the city centre with an empty bori (sack) hung around his shoulder. He came across a commotion of Tahreebans gathered near the mosque. In the middle of the crowd, he saw a mystical man wearing a black robe and red turban. “This must be the great Jinn Ibakeel”, Baabeikh thought. He went to the mosque, hurriedly said his morning prayers and ran outside. He waited till the crowd of hundreds had dwindled down to a couple, behind whom he joined the queue. The couple took the blessings of the jinn and left. Next in line was Baabeikh. Upon seeing him for the first time, the Jinn immediately close his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. “You are one troubled soul, janaab,” said the Jinn, “Your aura reeks of confusion, weakness and an impending disaster. If you continue to house the devil in your mind palace, he will soon claim ownership of the house and never leave. He will impregnate your every waking thought with evil and haunt your dreams. Your wisdom and good sense will be lost to you forever. Now tell me janaab, how can I help you?” The Jinn had looked right through him. Baabeikh said, “You surely are mighty! Yes! I need your help, I beg for it! I don’t want to become a sinner. But yes, I do want to become wealthier. Wealth is all I have in this world to call my own. The more I have of it, the more complete I’ll feel. I can die in peace soon after.” Jinn Ibakeel upon hearing this replied, “If getting wealthy is your last wish, I will grant it to you. You have carried an empty bori to me. From this day on, the last meal of your day will be what you’ll find the bori filled with the next morning. Sell out all of it, only to have the bori fill up the next day. You will never wake up to an empty bori till the day you die.” Baabeikh, overjoyed with the blessing asked the Jinn if there was anything else that he should remember to do. The Jinn replied, “Yes janaab. You must know your limits. Limits, you will set for yourself to keep the devil locked in his room and in time, throw him out. If you fail to do so, this boon will turn into a curse and bring your demise. Also remember to say this prayer before having the last bite of your meal every night. “Baabeikh Ali ki bori, Farishton ki ispe barkat hai. Aaj ka ye aakhiri niwaala, Kal bori me az had hai. Gunaahon se azaad karegi, Dhoka du toh anjaam qurbat karegi. Baabeikh Ali ki bori, Khuda ki ispe barkat hai.” So Baabeikh Ali went back home that day with the empty bori, lay it next to his bed and went
Baabeikh Ali Ki Bori II Vaishali Jain, 2016
back to sleep, thinking about the what he’d eat for a meal that night. He woke up around dinner time, cooked for himself some chapatis and a tomato curry. He had his meal alone at the dinner table, and just before gulping down the last sip of the tomato curry, he sang out loud. “Baabeikh Ali ki bori, Farishton ki ispe barkat hai. Aaj ka ye aakhiri niwaala, Kal bori me az had hai...” The next day Baabeikh woke up to find that his bori was full of fresh, plump, rosy red tomatoes. Their fine quality and alluring scent astonished him. “These would sell off in the vegetable market within minutes.” He got ready hurriedly and headed out to the town market. There, he put up his shop in the little space he could find down at the end of the market road. And his guess was right indeed. The tubby tomatoes appealed to many passerbies and within a few minutes, his stock was sold out. With gathered the two hundred coins he’d earned, put them in his bori and left for the mosque to say his morning prayers. On his way back home, he brought a bundle of carrots from another vendor. That night, after singing the song, the last bite that went down his mouth was a juicy scrumptious carrot. The next day, he carried the bori full of fresh and tempting carrots to the town market and again, sold his stock out within a few minutes. The devil in Baabeikh’s mind hadn’t left yet. Though he hadn’t troubled him to commit a sin such a robbery for a while, he wasn’t wasting his time away. He was slowly gathering strength. Baabeikh soon started to turn richer, and richer and richer. Within a month, he was the richest he had ever been throughout his life. Within a few months, he was the richest in his neighbourhood. Word started to spread like wildfire. Baabeikh’s garden in his backyard must indeed be blessed by the prophet himself since it had taken him from rags to riches. With all the attention and celibacy his wealth was gathering him Baabeikh’s good sense soon started to dwindle. The devil spread his wings. “Nuts! Cashews sell faster and are more expensive than vegetables!,” thought Baabeikh. Soon, he started eating a lot of cashews, infact, all he ate was cashews. He not only started growing heavier, but also fell sick more often. The devil was playing tricks with him again. Baabeikh complied with him for the rewards were stacked in heaps in his bedroom. Heaps of coins. The sight of them every morning made him greedier and greedier by the day. “What harm will a biscuit of gold do to me? I am rich now, and can soon be the richest man in the whole of Tahreeb.” By the end of the year, Baabeikh’s greed had blinded
Baabeikh Ali Ki Bori II Vaishali Jain, 2016
him to all good sense and wisdom. One day, on his way back home, he brought a gold biscuit from the goldsmith. In the night, after his meal was over he sang “Baabeikh Ali ki bori, Shaitaan ki ispe barkat hai. Aaj ka ye aakhiri niwaala, Kal bori me az had hai. Gunaahon se azaad karegi, Dhoka du toh anjaam qurbat karegi. Baabeikh Ali ki bori, Shaitaan ki ispe barkat hai.” Silence fell upon the room and Baabeikh ate the gold biscuit. He almost choked himself, but something in him pushed him to gulp it down. He fainted and fell to the ground soon after. Next morning, still feeling uneasy, Baabeikh Ali woke up to find his bori full of gold biscuits. They glimmered against the morning light like a treasure chest. By now, Baabeikh had turned into the devil himself, giving himself up to the sins the Jinn had warned him to keep away from, letting his greed grow boundless. He hastily got up, shook off the awful pain in his gut and walked out of his house, dragging the heavy bori along with him. Upon reaching the bridge of Judasheen, he felt utterly sick and couldn’t fight the nausea anymore. He felt face down onto the bridge and heaved his last breath. His weight, added with that of the hundreds of gold biscuits, made the bridge sway chaotically. The chains roared, the timbers cracked and the ropes broke off. The bridge of Judasheen broke down and the city dwellers of Tahreen watched it happen. The prophecy was true. Only the curse of a mightier Jinn than Azazel could break the bridge.
Baabeikh Ali Ki Bori II Vaishali Jain, 2016
A circle is a circle
is a circle
afterall.
W hat d i d it tast
el
ike?
The circle has
a scent .
Kyra Loved
Somewhere within the Furrowhine Ocean, there once lay the mystical city of Octodis. This city was the capital of the Furrowinter trench, the largest, and almost unfathomable of all Furrowhine ocean troughs. The city’s populace majorly consisted of purple glowing forams, hatchetfish with large elephant trunks, frilled sharks with tails of red haired monkeys, dragonfish with giant skeletal fans for fins and the most beautiful of them all, the octamaidens, with alluring octopus legs, ten in number, and the body of a woman. The octamaidens had long glowing hair that shines a different colour for different emotions they felt. Pink for hunger, yellow for greed, lavender for care, peach for serenity, green for fear and amongst many others, red for love. Love was an emotion an octamaiden was forbidden to experience. It was a cursed emotion, the queen mother had told them several times. The Queen mother, was an immortal sea creature unlike any other. Her name was unknown, although with the body of a sea monster, red grovelling serpents or hair and a Godlike voice, she was not only the lawmaker of the Furrowinter trench, but also the elder everyone obeyed and no Furrower ever dared to refuse complying with her wishes and commands. Queen mother was an immortal and was said to have supernatural powers. She could not only foresee approaching threat but was also the rhetor of all prophecies. Thousands of years back, she had prophesized that if an octamaiden ever falls in love before marriage, she will die as soon as her hair turns red from top to bottom. Love was sacred, and could only be permitted and authorized to happen by Queen mother. Falling in love at one’s own will was sinful. If one was found with her hair glowing red, she would have to leave the trench and never return. It wasn’t like the octamaidens could never find a companion. Each year, a magnificent ceremony was held at the Furrowinter cliff which was hosted by the queen mother herself and was attended all Furrowhiners, including the octamaidens and several eligible octamen from the neighbouring Guframarrow trench. Here the octamen could pick suitable octamaidens to be their wives by approaching one and entwining their octopus legs with theirs. Here an octaman’s hair must go red first and after their unison, the maiden’s. After the marriage the Queen mother would bless the new weds and they would be send out into the ocean to start a new life of their own. In Furrowinter there lived an octamaiden named Kyra. She was not the prettiest of all, but was surely the most compassionate. She had the most caring of all hearts, but also the most vulnerable. She would give in to emotions rather quickly, without much thought and would often get into trouble for her hair would change color rapidly, giving her away. Growing up, she had a difficult time making friends for emotions like fear, anxiety, jealousy and greed would easily find reflection in the color of her hair and she’d be left feeling utterly
Kyra Loved II Vaishali Jain, 2016
helpless. She was feeble in that sense, but the innocent genuineness of her heart, soon gathered her many close friends and fellows. One casual morning, Kyra woke up to see a silhouette of a body she couldn’t recognise, floating on the ocean surface. The creature seemed to be making no attempt to swim or dive into the water. The body looked hurt. Kyra’s hair turned a deep lavender as she decided to swim up the trench to the surface. She swam upstream for a long time, fighting the currents and the decreasing pressure, her eyes aimed at the body still floating. As she neared the surface, her hair turned green in panic and fear. She’d never come up to the surface of the ocean before. The body, which could now see clearly and even touch, was of a man, a human man. Kyra swam up and shoved her head out of the water the sudden gush of air pained her lungs as she caught her breath. In the distance she saw ruins of a boat afloat the rising waves and she figured that it was his. She rolled the man’s body over so she could see his face. It was the most beautiful face she’d ever seen. He looked like an angel fallen straight from the heavens. Kyra’s hair glowed red as she touched the man’s hand checking for his pulse. The man’s body had turned cold and limp but he wasn’t dead yet. Deprived of all reason, swoon by love, Kyra recalled what Queen mother once told the octamaidens at a ceremonial gathering when a group of them had come of age to get married. She’d said that an octamaiden’s hair glowed, not without a purpose, but as a summoning of a gift. The boon of having magical hair endowed all maidens with a sacred power. By cutting off a lock of their hair and wrapping it around an injury on a fellow Furrower’s body, they could heal all wounds and bring an end to their suffering. They were also warned by the Queen mother to not bald themselves, because if they did, that’d bring the death of the maiden. Falling in love feels like an adventure, it’s a fall indeed. The adrenaline makes you do stupid yet brave things. Kyra, with the edges of her teeth, bit off a lock of her red hair and wrapped it around the man’s body. When nothing happened, she bit off a longer strand and covered the man’s arms with it. She kept doing so, till there was just a tiny string of red hair left on her bald head and the man’s body was completely draped in the maiden’s glowing hair. Kyra soon lost her own heartbeat and the last thing she saw was her beloved’s face unconcealed face glowing against the crimson afterglow of the setting sun. Her body sank in the Furrowinter trench and landed on the ocean floor between the gullies of the city market. A shocked hoard of Furrowers carried the body to the Queen mother, who upon spotting the string of red hair on the maiden’s head declared that her prophecy was true indeed. Falling in love at her own will had brought the death of Kyra.
Kyra Loved II Vaishali Jain, 2016
The man’s pulse quickened, his lips quivered, and his eyes began to squint against the dazzling glow of the morning sun. He opened his eyes to find himself cocooned inside a blanket of red hair, lying on the shore of an island he didn’t know. He had no recollection of what had happened to him, his last memory was of a gigantic wave crashing against the hull of his boat and knocking him into the ocean. Untangling himself out of the web of hair, he checked his body for wounds, but he found none. He looked out at the ocean, smiled and thanked the waters for reincarnating him, bringing him back to life. The remaining string of red hair on Kyra’s head, glowed and lit up the seafloor she was buried in.
Kyra Loved II Vaishali Jain, 2016
Life is better in your f lip f lops. Even when they’re worn wrong!
Serves: 1 Active time: 5 minutes Recipe by scoochmaroo Ingredients 4 tablespoons flour 4 tablespoons sugar 1 tablespoon unsweetened cocoa 2 tablespoons whisked egg - 1 egg is too much, 1 egg white is too eggy, 1 yolk is too dense, but 2 tblsp is just right! 3 tablespoons milk 3 tablespoons oil 3 tablespoons chocolate chips splash vanilla or other flavoring - try peppermint or cinnamon Method Mix and whisk all the ingredients together in a big microwavable mug. Cook the mixture in the microwave for 2 and a half minutes to make the tastiest, most reliable 5-minute chocolate cake. Cooks’ Note For a fudgier version, omit egg.
Makesure you measure right- or the cake is a lie!
5 minute chocolate cake in a mug
Tangled frames Forgotten under a fortress of blankets, A cradle so powerful, so visceral, so real. The warmth, of his bare soul, my sore self, His slumber-soaked voice. Burning, bending, even breaking to make anew. Stroking my head, adoringly. Skimming down my spine, seductively. Tickling my belly, caressing me gently. Our bodies entwined, toes wriggling, The embrace getting more searing, Extending into eachother, My skin, the hair, standing on my back Aroused, clutching onto your scent like a bottle Carrying perfume to porcelain dolls afar.
Nishqa Pillai, 2015
When was the last time you spoke to your childhood buddy?
Did you know? 1. A toddler can fit into a blue whale’s blowhole. 2. A blue whale’s tongue weighs more than an elephant. 3. A blue whale’s heart weighs up to 2,000 pounds. Their heart can be the size of a Mini Cooper. 4. A medium sized dog can comfortably walk through a blue whale’s arteries. 5. Blue whales can be up to 100 feet long. That is about the length of a NBA basketball court.
Written and Compiled by
Nishqa Pillai Illustrated by
Vaishali Jain