Creative Growth and Timing

As a teenager, I spent most of my time reading wordpress and live journal blogs, building unpublished websites, creating graphics and staring at fonts. This is during the pre-design-is-so-cool era circa 2006. I wanted to share what I was doing but I didn't have the confidence. Eventually, myspace came into the picture, and my life basically revolved around tweaking my fonts to 7pt, Georgia, -0.5 and sometimes changing the hover color to a very light gray that almost looked white. So, it looked like your links were disappearing off the page. This was cool.

Selfies were curated before the word selfie even existed in the dictionary. I stretched out my arm, flipped my camera and batted my eyelashes in the name of vanity and boredom. I managed to take decent pictures to feel lucky. If you think about it, it’s kind of awkward to say that you've been stretching your arm out for over ten years. Very, very awkward. Fortunately, last September, I had an episode of backing up my old photographs from 2006 and ran into a series of selfies that actually made me smile. I realized that growth is actually precious and it's always nice and weird to see how much you change. Strangely interesting for sure. 

Eventually, I went to college and I got to use everything I learnt by myself. I ended up improving a lot more than I expected because I found what I was doing as fun and stimulating. Plus, so many people gave me opportunities to grow as an artist. That was enough for me to put in more effort. During this period, I wanted to have a semi-professional blog as well but I didn't know what I wanted to talk about (circa 2009). Basically, it took me over six years to mentally prepare myself.

However, was it necessary? In my case, for sure. I wanted to write for the long-term and for that, I needed to find my voice and build my confidence. I wasn't interested in starting a blogger or wordpress account and throwing out posts for the heck of it. I could do that in my journal. I wanted to be real and to do that, it would require me to lead an authentic life and have actual life experiences. 

Would I have wanted things to happen sooner? No way. I appreciate how timing worked out in my life, because at the right time, I had a beautiful platform to work with and a solid understanding of design and photography. I learnt that when one large goal seemed daunting then it was important to my build confidence by attaining smaller goals. 

Growth can be a painful, slow process, but it's definitely rewarding. Each of us grow at our own pace which is why it's very important to never compare yourself to someone else. Your process and story is absolutely unique to you and only you. 

F1 Student Visa

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Around the end of April 2008, my classmates and I were getting ready to apply for our F1 student visas. For many international students, this is a pivotal moment, because the outcome of our visa interviews would be key to determining our future. Several of us were biting our finger nails, scavenging to get our documents together and hoping for the best. In my case, I didn't even want to go to the interview. 

"I'm not going to this. What's the point? I don't want to go to America," I said to my mother. 

"Keep your options open and just go. You don't have to go, but it's good to have your visa ready. You never know what could happen," she replied.

Finally, the day had arrived for me to head to my interview at 8:30 AM. I crawled out of bed at 6:20 AM on a Saturday and walked miserably to the bathroom. 

"I can't believe I'm doin' this on a Saturday when I could be sleeping in and chillin' and doing nothin' and livin' in peace and why are we doin' this in the twenty-first century and why is it such a process and why do I have to wake up so early on a Saturday? I just want to go back to bed," rambled seventeen-year-old Shikha.  

Outside the bathroom, I could hear my father say, "Hurry up Sona, I have to drop you to the embassy. Your mom is busy. I have to give you these documents, and you need to eat breakfast before you go. Hello, tu toilet ke upar so gayi (Translation: Did you fall asleep on the toilet)?"

"That's not funny," I responded as I walked back to my bedroom. 

"Your mom said to make sure that you don't fall asleep in the bathroom or that you don't go back to bed. She said that you have the tendency to do such things." 

In reality, I felt pretty anxious, because I didn't know what to expect or even how I would respond to any of the questions they would ask me. At that point, everything felt too real yet uncertain. Soon, I was going to venture out of my home into another country. The future seemed frightening and uncomfortable. 

As I ate my breakfast, wondering what would happen in the next few hours, my father dropped a stack of folders on our dining table. 

"Make sure you take all of these folders with you. These are all of our business documents and bank statements. You never know what could happen."

"How old are some of these documents?" I asked as I stared at the dust caught in between the folders. 

"Maybe as old as you?" 

I sighed, "Papa, do I need to take all of them?" 

"I told you, you never know what could happen. Where is your backpack?" 

I watched my father precisely put the set of dusty folders in my backpack as I continued munching on my toast. I tried to tame my anxiety in my mind:

It's OK.It's OK.It's OK.It's OK.It's OK.It's OK.It's OK.It's OK.It's OK.It's OK. OK. OK. OK. OK. OK. OK. OK.OK. OK. OK. OK.OK. OK. OK. OK. You're OK. You're OK. You're OK. You're OK. You're OK. You can do this. You're OK. You're OK. You're OK. You can do this. 

"Shikha, take my business cards."

"Papa, why do I need to take your business cards?" 

"You never know what could happen. You could network while you're sitting."

My father dropped five of his business cards in my backpack without waiting for my acknowledgement. 

"Ok, Shikha, jaldi kar (hurry up)." 

All of a sudden, my mother appeared out of nowhere, and announced, "Shikha, jaldi kar! Why are you still eating your toast? We have to go!" 

Ten minutes later, the three of us were sitting in the car without uttering a word to each other. 

I decided to break the silence. 

"How long is this interview going to take?" I asked my parents.

"However long they want to take," replied my father. 

"By the way, did you guys decide to turn this into a group activity at the last minute?" 

"Very funny Shikha," responded my mother. 

"I told your Mom that I can drop you, but she wanted to come." 

"I wasn't going to let you go there by yourself," she said. 

My mother made there sound like a battlefield. 

As we reached the embassy, my parents began to wish me luck.

"Ok, Shikha, good luck beta (child). Text me if anything happens," said my father. 

"What do you want to eat for lunch? You'll be back for lunch, no? Ok, who knows, but when you are done send me a text message or call me. Ok, call me if anything happens. Anything happens, you make sure to call me. Understood? And, what do you want to eat?" said my mother. 

I murmured, "I'll eat anything," and I began to walk towards the embassy's security line (Basically, I was entering the battlefield).

In the background, I could hear my mother say, "Shikha, make sure you call me! Don't just send me a text message. Sometimes, I can't hear it. Shikha, you didn't want to tell me what you want to eat."

"Mom, I said anything."  

To be continued.   

To My Dada ji (Grandfather)

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This post is dedicated to my Dada ji who passed away on January 26, 2016. May your soul rest in peace.

My Dada ji was a strong, authentic man, who worked very hard his entire life to support his family on a small salary of a school teacher. His goal was to have all of his children educated so that they could always be successful and respected in their lives. When the grandchildren came into the picture, he wanted to make sure that they were even more educated than his children. 

I was the eldest grandchild who lived 7,488 kilometers away from him, in a city that he had never set foot in. With our language and geographical barriers, communication was scarce. Somehow, our bond was formed when he found out that I liked one thing: books.

"They don't have books over there and Shikha likes books," he said.  Out of concern, my Dada ji made it his mission to send back books during my father's short visits. 

I received my first set of books in second grade when I was still getting used to the English language. He knew that I was learning English, and all of them were aimed to help me improve my vocabulary. My Dada ji sent me my first translation of Shakespeare's work, which became very dear to me. At the time, I didn't even know who Shakespeare was. I was just thrilled to escape into other worlds which lay hidden amongst many words. 

By fourth grade, my Dada ji began to send more books to prepare me for middle and high school. 

Science books were sent. 

Literature books were sent. 

Comic books were sent. 

Philosophy books were sent. 

Math books were sent, but never touched. Math was too intimidating for little Shikha. 

All of the books were lovingly displayed on a tall bookcase. 

In seventh grade, Dada ji asked my father,"What does Shikha want to read now? Tell her to give me her book list." Out of excitement, book lists were sent and on the return of my father from his business trips, books were received. This exchange went on for many years. 

Once, my Dada ji couldn't find a book that I had listed. He went to all of the book stores in New Delhi to look for it, and became frustrated that he could not get his granddaughter a book that she had asked for. "She never asks for anything, and I could not even get this for her," he sulked. My father had to insist that I could live without it, and he shouldn't get too upset about it. 

I remember finally being able to go to New Delhi in tenth grade, and the first thing he asked for was my book list.

"If you give it to me now, then all of the books will be ready for you by the time you leave," he said. 

"Dada ji, nahin. I will come with you to get them." 

Dada ji staunchly refused to be accompanied by anyone to his favorite book stores. With a rikshaw and by foot, he would always bring back a heavy bag that was equivalent to the love and strength of his heart. 

Dada ji is one of the reasons why I can read and speak in English. Without him, I would not have been where I am today. He kept me intellectually stimulated when I felt deprived and introduced me to so many new subjects. Thank you for everything, Dada ji. I will always remember you, and you will always be in my heart.  Rest in peace. 

•Into the Woods•

The Story

During a fine day in October, my friend Mavis and I were both sitting on the couch, wondering what we could do with our time. I was waiting for my OPT status to kick-in, and she was waiting for a response from grad school. We both felt anxious about the future; so we decided that we needed to find productive ways to occupy ourselves.

Mavis pulled out her planner and said, "We are going to do a photoshoot twice a week until I leave for Zimbabwe this November. You need to take your photo game to another level, and in return, I will have pretty pictures of myself to post." In the next few weeks, many Youtube makeup videos were watched, outfits were curated, locations were scouted, delicious food was eaten, and finally, fond memories were created.

"Into the Woods" is the last photoshoot that Mavis and me collaborated on. I'm happy to actually see and acknowledge my growth as a creative in these photographs. Ten years of photographing, post-processing and self-teaching had finally paid off. 

Special thanks to my dear and beautiful friend Mavis for believing, supporting, and pushing me everyday to strive for greatness. What would I do without you? Love you! x 

Photographs

All of these were shot in Golden Gate Park, following a modern fairy-like, nature theme. 

Mosquitto Repellent (Lesson 3)

I've worn mosquitto repellent from the ages of eight to seventeen. 

Every morning, I would open a small, plastic packet of mosquitto repellent, and smother the lotion all over one arm.  When I was younger, I could get away with using two packets, but eventually, I had to use seven to eight packets to cover my skin. The process was so tedious that I would put it on a four minute timer. I believed that the faster I could do it, the less of a nuisance it would be. By the time I was done, I patted my skin to feel the stickiness of the lotion. I wondered whether the humidity would allow the repellent to absorb into my skin. For a second, I pictured myself in a mosquito net onesie battling every unfriendly insect in the Congolese rainforest. However, it was just another day in eight grade, and I would have to do this for four more years. 

"This is so annoying Mom," I complained.

"You have four more years of this. I think you should get used to it," she replied. 

"Nature is so cruel....."

"You know what happens when you don't put mosquito repellent...Your school is a jungle." 

"My school is not a jungle. It was constructed on a terrain of a jungle....This repellent doesn't get absorbed, and it's so sticky. How is this going to last through the humidity? "

"Just accept it for what it is. No point getting American repellent. It does not work here. You will have to use a lot more." 

The solution to everything had become acceptance. Acceptance that some solutions may not always be easy to adapt to, but may be neccessary for your wellbeing. Therefore, accept everything for what it is, and difficult situations will frustrate you less. 

At school, I watched others apply American repellent and still get bitten by insects. I remember suggesting to buy local brands, because at the time, I believed that Congolese mosquitos and other insects had different and stronger biting strategies compared to American ones. However, no one took my word for it. 

After three years, a friend asked me, "Dude, why do you never get bitten?" 

I replied, "Dude, buy Congolese mosquitto repellent." 

"Does it have this strong perfume?"

"Ya, but it definitely fades away after an hour or so."

"Do you have to put a lot?" 

"Yes, a lot! But, beware of driver ants. Sometimes they sting. I know, because I got stung twice. " 

Lesson Three: 

Each problem has its own solution. Be flexible.