Loving a Rose
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@archituppal
Loving a Rose
Through the Rough
Red Flags
Searching for a face
Searching for a face
In strange unknown eyes, we search for a face. That smiles brightly, and is devoid of gloomy sorrow. That renders the mirror a liar, and is disparate from the very shadow it casts. In a meek attempt, to change what we know about ourselves, the search, endlessly, goes on... -Archit
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Courtroom without Lawyers
Knives and swords and arrows,
All seem blunt in front of them.
In front of the stares that pierce through you,
Shot from eyes you've never seen before.
Are you even who you know you are,
If it isn't what they believe?
Do you dodge, do you duck,
Or do you stand tall.
When you dare to waiver from their ideals.
Your simplicity, your complexity,
Your yesterdays and your tomorrows,
All neatly wrapped up into one definition.
Small, tidy and compact.
Your mirror apparently lies,
Because they have a clearer image.
One out of which you can not step,
Because the world as they know it is at stake.
There's no order in this courtroom,
Not one person being held in contempt,
Without a chance for advocacy,
You simply stand and face your judgment.
-Archit Uppal
17th March 2019
1/365
Why do you sit so glumly? It's time to celebrate, Celebrate the wonderment brought about by this day! When you are celebrated, And turned into a muse. When egos are stroked, And respect is harnessed out of thin air. When all seems right with the world, As another facade is put up, To gag, to silence, to muffle the screams. When we turn our eyes away, From the sexism present all around us, Intertwined with misogyny and patriarchy. When you're raised up on a pedestal, And talked about endlessly. When in the race to talk, they all forget to listen. Yes, it is a race. Because come tomorrow, The facade will be shattered, And all the dust will settle, But the strokes on their egos, Will last them another 364. - Archit Uppal 8th March 2019
Someone or No-one is Watching
If you were walking and saw a wallet filled with money lying on the street, would you pick it up and keep it? If not, is it because of how the people around you would react? Would your action change if there was no-one else around in sight?
The truest and unadulterated form of our personality is when we are in an isolated environment. When we live like no-one is watching! But, along with being unadulterated, it is also the most primal and animalistic form of our being.
Extroverts are always telling introverts to be care-free. To live their life like no-one is watching. Now, that may be a fun line to use at parties to try and push people on to the dance floor or to have a couple more drinks, but, what really happens if we start living our lives that way? Live like no-one is watching. Just take a moment to think about it. What if there is no-one around for all of your actions. Not a single person judging you for your mistakes but none guiding you either. No restrictions, no adjudication, just every single person doing as they please. A few words that come to mind are lawlessness, chaos and dystopia. Because the truth of the matter is that the society is not nearly equipped enough to fathom the extents to which that primal nature can be unleashed.
To contain ourselves and others around us we come up with terms like morals, code of conduct, laws, and above all a life where we live like someone is Always watching. These terms and concepts sound so appetizing that we gobble them up without a second thought, without realizing how all these are subjective. My morals are different from yours; we abide by different codes of conduct; what is considered lawful today was possibly unlawful a few decades back and vice-versa. As a result, what we are left with are either constant arguments aimed at proving one’s own beliefs as superior or people donning different masks to fit into someone else’s definition of themselves. Mask after mask, we lost track of who we are underneath and morphed from unique distinct individuals into what we proudly call, ‘society’. To live like someone is always watching is to live in fear. Fear of judgement, fear or failure, and worst of all - fear of getting the tiniest glimpse of our unabashed inner self!
Is it possible to survive by being subjective and absolute simultaneously? To be civil but primal together? To be in touch with our individualities without wreaking havoc over the world? To neither live like no-one is watching nor like someone is always watching. Is that truly possible or is that essentially the utopia for which we long but is always an inch away from our grasp?
-Archit Uppal
8th December, 2018
It wasn't your time to go!
It bewilders me just thinking about how, in such a short while, someone can become such a major part of our lives. I guess it's because of your unconditional love that connected all our hearts with yours. I fight with words, the way you fought with pillows, trying to describe how I'm feeling. Your smile, your bark, your crying, your paws, your nose, your hair on our clothes, the way you tilted your head to understand our conversations, they are all embedded in the deepest, most pure corner of our hearts.
There's no reason, no justification for why you had to leave us, but I guess that's the uncertainty that we have to live our lives with.
Shamsher, I keep hoping that you'll come running towards me with my shoe in your mouth and then turn around and run away after I see you!
You were too young and it simply was not your time to go, and with you gone the entire house seems empty. All the shoes are in their place, no newspapers are torn, no new holes in the quilts are being formed, no one trying to bite my wrist, no one standing with their paws on my shoulders.
We all love you with all our hearts and it tears us apart to know that none of these things are going to happen. I hope you forgive me for all the times I scolded you and slapped you for being naughty, because, like mum said, you probably wanted to play all day and even through the night just because you knew you didn't have too long. You were just making each moment count and I thank you for all the beautiful moments you have given to all of us!
Lots of cuddles from your elder brother!
Archit
Writers on Sale
Disclaimer: Disappointing as it may be, this article doesn’t come with a flashy pic or a title in the “10 Things that…” or “5 Places You…” format.
Content! Content! Content! This word resonates in numerous offices thousand times daily. It’s one word every writer is tired of hearing, but is still persevering with all their energy to find it. For us millennials, the world is literally at our fingertips (all thanks to our most precious smartphones). We entertain ourselves throughout the day and connect with friends by tagging them in memes. But most importantly, we educate ourselves by reading article after article; maybe that’s just what we have ourselves believing.
Hundreds of articles written everyday by hundreds of writers throughout the country on such a huge variety of topics that they cater to the likes and dislikes of every single person. But how much of those articles do we honestly read? When was the last time you read an article and you didn’t just look through the photos? When did you read anything in the article that wasn’t written in bold letters with a number at the beginning? No point in asking when was the last time that you read the name of the author of the article, because you surely never bothered to do that.
Don’t read this and think this doesn’t apply to you and please, oh please don’t get ‘offended’ by it (there’s too much of that going on already). This article isn’t meant to target you. You can’t be blamed for wanting to glance through only the bullet points to cope up with this fast paced life. Why spend so much time on reading one article when you can flip through 10 different articles in the same time and have the opportunity to tag 10 different people in them. That’s just plain-simple-math!
It is well established that we are all running in races irrespective of our positions and fields, and the race for writers is the race to content. You ever wonder why in the job-descriptions they always ask for ‘content-writers’ and not ‘writers’? That’s because you won’t be hired for your writing abilities but on your ability to find and produce viral content. But are they really to blame? They’re only producing what we as readers want to read. You see how this is a vicious cycle of supply and demand.
So how about we come together, as readers, and demand for a well written creative article so that, we, as writers can come together and supply it.
I know most people would not bother reading through such a long post, and many would not have liked being targeted. But if I can request you to do one thing, it is this – next time you read any article, anywhere, just glance at the author’s name once. Not because they are writing for fame, but because apart from your laughs and your likes, this is the least they deserve. Don’t let the creativity in the writer be lost, don’t let the ‘art’ in the artist be lost.
-Archit Uppal 8th July 2017
Dreamy Reality
Every now and then, when the eyes are shut, I travel to a land not so far away, it looks the same, it feels the same, the bedsheet drenched in sweat, the pale colour of the walls, the birds chirping outside, feel real as always. yet something feels different, misplaced in the scenario. there’s something unreal about opening a door, to find everything you ever wished and hoped for, ever wanted, nay, needed standing in front of you. you pinch yourself, snap your fingers, you stand frozen, wondering in disbelief, has reality become so dreamy, or is it just a dream that feels so real… Archit Uppal 21st April 2017
Poisonous Lies
Unlike a feather falling from the sky, weightless and irresolute, we go about our lives with an albatross hanging around our necks. Thousand of lives entwine in a web, showing us different faces each day. The people, they change at times, but mostly remain the same. But the faces, they change, always. For each new day, brings a new mask, a new lie for us to tell the world. But that is not a crime from which there is no absolution, That crime is committed, when the face in the mirror changes as well, because, Most poisonous are the lies that we tell ourselves. -Archit Uppal 6th March 2017
Bekhauf Zindagi
Kadam se Kadam milane se, Bheedh mein pehchaan banaane se, Parchhayi se aur aaine se, Yaadon ki us kashti se, Khaabon ke panchhi se, Palak jhappakte us guzarte waqt se, Aankhon mein chubti roshni ke us andhere se, Darr lagta hai, is bekhauf zindagi se..... -Archit Uppal 25th June 2016
Reminiscing 1st year days.
Feels like Home
A hundred paths lead to a thousand doors and through each door lies a different world. Many times the door is locked; others, just slightly stuck; but there lies a door in everyone’s life, which opens effortlessly. Walking through it one can smell the familiarity, breathe-in the comfort and you feel like you are exactly where you are meant to be - a place called, ‘Home’
A home is so much more than just bricks and cement. It comes to be called that only after an amalgamation of thousands of moments coming together. Moments of celebration of a new marriage, the birth of a child, or that of the child running towards the mother after winning a competition. Mischievous moments between siblings, or at times even the parents because mischief knows no age limits. Secrets; sometimes being shared, other times simply being locked up and kept away in a safe place. Moments of hardship and failure are the toughest and most important moments in the formation of a home because they put every relationship though a test. Many more such complex moments and emotions together lay the foundation and brickwork of building a home and it is these moments that we truly cherish, remember and associate with the word, ‘Home’. There is an innate familiarity associated with it. It has that one door, even before you open it, your pet comes running towards you, ready to pounce and lick you all over, as soon as you open it. It’s the place that has your own room, your own bed, your own table, your own secret spots, and a million other things, which are all yours. While growing up, nobody thinks of these things. The bed and the table, the pet and the cable; the home theatre and the PC, the freezer and the AC, everything is simply taken for granted.
Sooner or later there comes a time in our lives when our decisions, choices and fate take us on a path away from this sanctuary of ours. Going to a boarding school, a college hostel, a job in a different city or country, or even getting married. We all have different reasons and times in our lives when we bid adieu to our safe place, and it is only then, not a moment sooner, that we realize how dear we hold the minutest of things associated with what we always thought of as nothing more than a building. I underwent the exact same thing when I went to pursue my engineering degree away from home. There’s no doubt that I was excited about staying in a hostel, being independent, carefree and enjoying life to the fullest and I did not take a step back in doing any of that. But every time I came back home, it felt less familiar than the previous visit. The smiles seemed meeker, the lights looked slightly dimmer. My room suddenly started feeling smaller and congested. And it may be the paranoia, but even my dog started seeming a little less interested. You start feeling alienated, cornered and suffocated. The same bed doesn’t remain the same when you have to sleep on the other side, your cupboard isn’t yours if there is someone else’s stuff in it and your secret place feels violated when it is left unlocked and when that happens, home does not feel like home anymore. When you’re home, you find yourself wanting to go back to the new place where you were initially very reluctant to go to, but once you reach there you go back to the image of home you had before and find yourself wanting to return. Before you know it, you are caught in this endless cycle where you are not satisfied with wherever you are and keep thinking the grass is greener on the other side.
How can one be away from home but come back to the same picture they had in mind from before? Isn’t it childish to hold on to a utopia and go through life disappointed because it doesn’t match up to that image? Maybe not, the image so deeply embedded in our heart and mind is the result of those numerous moments spent with friends and family through the thick and thin of life. It is those people who can bring back that lost image because it is they who hold that image as close to their hearts as you, since they are the ones who have helped build it. You realize it when someone you share your life with leaves your home, leaves their home. And when you’ve had a similar experience before, you try your best to make that home less alienating, less cornering and less suffocating for that person. Its always the little things which matter the most, like not messing around with their stuff (even if it is to clean), giving up their preferred seats/side of the bed when their visiting. Sometimes just simply being with them and reliving a few of the many memories you have created together in that place.
I remember being in tears once when something very dear to me broke because I didn’t have a safe place to keep it. It is heartbreaking to feel like an outsider in your own home and I wouldn’t wish it for anyone. If only we could all see how, unknowingly, we end up hurting the ones we love and how it’s the little things and a tiny bit of effort that can turn it all around. How there is no estrangement worse than one experienced at home. That image in our hearts may never be fully recreated, the reality might always remain a blurry version of that picture, but it can still be close. It can be close enough that no matter when and after how long you open that door, you feel the calmness, comfort, familiarity, and truly believe that you are exactly where you are meant to be and that is when home, feels like home…
-Archit Uppal 23rd January, 2016
Musical Intoxication
When red goes blue, and blue goes dry, When pink turns black and black goes loud, When you beat with your eyes, and breathe through your ears, When you see through your lips but listen from your heart. When all senses combine, and you become nothing but an emotion, You truly, madly, deeply are intoxicated by Music #SUR'15ThaparUniversity
Imtehaan
Machi har taraf hai ik hulchul si, hone laga in lamhon se aitraaz; Waakhif hain in raahon se ab hum, alfaazon ke shaamiyane mein, Baadalon ki hai chali guftagu; Khuda ki hai koi gustaakhi, Ya hai imtehaan koi... - Archit Uppal 10th February 2015
I express my emotions! I am an Artist, are you?
Going about our routine lives, we often come across things or moments, which touch our hearts; make us stop for a moment to absorb the emotions. At times, we find ourselves perplexed and think. At times, we simply admire the marvel of things around us. Be it a powerful piece of literature or poetry, or a beautiful painting; a precise intricate sculpture, or an article, which connects both our mind and heart with it. We go through life swimming in a pool of emotions, and it can get tiring if we don’t pause to take a breath.
Art, in its variety of forms, had always fascinated me as a young boy. Also, because I believe I could see art, in nearly everything around me. I would sit for hours observing the carpenter hard at work as he crafted something magnificent with something that was nothing but wood and nails a while ago. That, to me was a display of sheer artistic ability. The vision of sculpting and pottery used to amaze me. But, one form of art, which always made my creative brain feel dwarfed, was whenever I saw a free-hand painting. There was something captivating about a painting, created with a bright and free mind, that I could not help but envy. There used to be paintings of roses and lilies in my house, painted by my mother’s aunt; just looking at them I would feel the urge to create something as spectacular and call it my own. However, every time I picked up a brush to paint, or a pencil to draw, the result would be no less than spilled paint on a crumpled paper.
Despite numerous art classes, I was neither able to put a smile on the face of the man I drew, nor make the fruits in the fruit basket I painted not look like a month old. That day I realized that there is something more frustrating than not having any creative thoughts, that is, not being able to express the creativity. The frustration fostered inside me as every attempt at finding a medium to let my mind be free, kept on backfiring.
In the 7th grade, I tried to take a break from reality and created a parallel world for myself. An imaginary world governed solely by me. I started penning down those ideas in the form of short stories comprising of aliens, action, adventure and practically anything that pops up in the mind of a 12 year old, but at the same time not losing focus from my beliefs, the strength of family bonds and friendship. I was encouraged by my teacher and my parents, which gave me the confidence to stand in front of that painting of roses and admire it without feeling dwarfed. But my search for new ways to express myself did not end with alien stories, I struggled with understanding poetry for some time, but I guess a few heartbreaks received and a few given can turn anyone into a poet. Immaterial of the fact that as an amateur poet I hunted for rhyming words and wrote colourless poems, but when I did, I felt alive. The blue-sky ideas trapped inside my mind for years had been presented with a gateway into the outside world.
Just like any other teenager, I lacked an interest in studying in school. To emphasize on that rebellious nature, one day I was doodling with my pen in my register as the teacher was teaching. A line here and a line there. I used a compass and scale just to add a little more detailing. When I was done, I showed it to one of my closest friends sitting next to me (who could not have been less interested in the class). He looked at what I had made, smiled at me, and wrote ‘90/100’ below it, and said, “achha hai, aur better bana sakta hai” (Its good, but you can make better)
What he said made me feel so good about myself, firstly, because it meant I had not just wasted the last 2 hours making this. But mostly, because he believed I could make something better. That moment I decided that I will not stop at this, and I will make that ‘Something Better’. Every other day that followed, I used to hide from the teacher, pick up my pen, scale and compass, and try to improve on whatever I had made before. I would show each design that I made to that friend of mine and he would mark me out of a 100.
One day he gave me 80 and I worked through recess to make another one that day, which fetched me, a 95. He kept increasing my score as the intricacy of my designs kept increasing up until the day I made this,
On looking at this he said, “I can’t mark these anymore, this, along with any that will follow are going to be above 100!” That moment felt like my training wheels had been removed, and I was free to ride freely, be prone to falling but having the confidence to get up and ride again.
Design after design, I could see myself improving, and my artistic abilities evolving. I started working with horizontal, vertical and diagonal symmetry, ensuring no repetition of ideas in any of my designs. I experimented with different stationery items trying to gain fluency in this new language I had just learned. Near the end of 10th grade, my class teacher asked to see my math register and I told her I hadn’t made one. On being asked what I had been doing the entire year, I quietly opened the register with my designs, showed it to her and said, “This.” Struggling with slight embarrassment and attempting to hide her amazement, she spoke in a hushed tone saying, “Very good.” In her own sweet way, she had given me a pat on the back, which I will always remember.
I have always had a bit of an OCD when it comes to symmetry. I find myself instantly connecting with symmetry where I see it. My mother and I had a joke once, she said that, I would carefully observe the nose of my prospective girlfriend to ensure it isn’t crooked else it would break the symmetry. I replied saying, “I’ll date twins to maintain that symmetry!”
After nearly a year of making my designs on my registers, I decided to take this skill to a different scale after my 10th grade. I began with a chart paper, bought a compass which opened 15cm wide and could fit a my pen; a Reynold’s Racer Gel (Till date it is the only pen I use to make my designs). Having had been a night owl for the major part of my life, when the entire house used to go off to sleep, I would go into the study, and work on my design through the night. After 3 months of putting in minute detailing every day, my first big design was completed; Starry Darkness
Drawing inspiration from my life during that time, when I was 17, I created something I like to call, Eyes- Speaking Words Unspoken
Like symmetry, another thing, which never fails to catch my eye and rise my admiration, is the combination of Black & Red. This was something I had never realized before making this design. Nearly 2 years after that, I ventured into another journey within myself leading to, Dark Romance
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZxUL_KRa64Q
I had developed a passion for this art, and the fact that I had never seen anything like this before made that passion grow even stronger. To this day, for that matter, I have been unable in finding a category to put this art under, so I just call them my ‘Designs’. Although the passion didn’t come without a strong possessiveness. I would flip out if someone took my design register away. Never would I agree to send a picture of my designs to anyone, worried that they could somehow be copied on a computer and my months of hard work could be replaced by a print. It was only me, and my family who knew how much effort went into making each one; physical and mental strain, time-consuming ideation and even harder execution. But my art, I feel, is like my form of meditation; I cut myself off from everything, work at night without any distractions and simply let my mind flow till the time the picture in my mind and that on the paper begin to merge into one. And once it is complete, I attain a state of true serenity and accomplishment, when I simply sit back and admire my latest creation! At that moment, all the back pain, the aching arms, legs and wrist just fade away, and all that remains is the result of all that, right in front of your eyes.
Even after achieving such detailed intricacy and perfect symmetry, my vision still faced one obstacle. Up until recently I had given up the hope of overcoming that obstacle and had accepted it as a fact. The fact that I could not venture out of the shape of the circle, because of my complete lack of free-hand drawing skills. Ever since I was a kid, I have been playing cards. I knew the rules and strategies of Poker before my classmates even knew what the 4 suits were. Combining my two passions, cards and art was a far-fetched dream. Mainly because no shape apart from the Diamonds could be made without free hand drawing, or so I used to think at that time. 2 months back I decided to do whatever needed to be done to capture that dream and put in all my time and energy into figuring out a way to make that happen. I took a print-out of the outline of Spades on a graph sheet. Then, after careful observation, I divided the entire outline of Spades into 10 segments, each comprising of an arc having a different center and radius. It took me a week to complete this process to perfection, but once it was done, I had the mathematical coordinates and dimensions to create the outline of Spades on any scale I wished! This was a monumental achievement for me because it meant I no longer had to restrict myself to the boundaries of a circle. It opened new horizons for me which I had long given up on. I was ecstatic the night I managed that. There were many other challenges I faced during ‘Spades’ such as finding the need for a bigger compass, a better drawing board but the biggest challenge was to keep the hand steady while using the compass which was open nearly 1ft wide. First time – my fingers began to shake – scrapped. Second time – the compass slipped – scrapped. It was the third attempt when I was able to complete the entire outline in one flawless attempt. As the design progressed, I could feel the nervousness increasing and being transferred onto my fingers and they trembled. Any mistake at a later stage could lead to a waste of more than a month of hard work and more frightening, the death of a new hope and idea.
Two months after the conception of the idea and relentless effort throughout, on 9th November 2014, I finally managed to complete the biggest and trickiest design I have ever attempted. So here, I take great pride in introducing to you, Spades
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nQEQma2Qx0E
Through this post I want to achieve a couple of things. I want to thank each and every person, who (in their own way) encouraged the artist inside me, helped me vent whenever I made a blunder, pulled me up and pushed me towards completing my target, listened to me whine about the problems I face and go on about how I managed to overcome them. I want to thank every person who has ever liked my work and I hope this art never dies. Last but not the least; I want to address every artist out there. By artist I don’t mean if you’re standing in front of your canvas holding a paintbrush. By artist, I refer to every person who has ever had a picture in mind that they’ve never seen in real life. Every person who has an idea that keeps building up inside them but fails to come out in tangible form. I speak to every person, who believes they have an ability that distinguishes them from the others, it doesn’t matter even if you don’t know what that ability is. Never stop believing! If you have an idea, a vision or even just an emotion, don’t give up on it. Keep experimenting with different ways to express yourself, make every day about learning a little more about your own self. It is only once you know who you are and what you’re capable of can you truly begin to appreciate yourself. No one is born a painter, a writer, a poet, a potter or even a carpenter. The true mark of an artist is the willingness to take risks and only if you venture out of your comfort zone and let your mind off the leash, will you be able to figure out who you really are. And who knows, you might just end up discovering a talent which no one even knew existed.
-Archit Uppal 17th November 2014
P.S. – If someone actually does know a name to category my style of Designs under, please do let me know!