Painter, Multidisciplinary Artist, Art Educator. Drawings. Paintings. ‘Journal Art’. DM to buy. Building: a life I love living.
India
Joined November 2009
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A long time ago, I was fired from my job. I had started losing interest in it, I had started showing up late and not giving my best, I had started falling into depression.
My dream was to be an artist, but I could never imagine not having a stable, monthly income. I had grown up seeing my parents work so hard to make ends meet. There was no way I couldn’t do the same. So I did a job, but begrudgingly, and it was visible. That evening, heartbroken after being fired, I messaged mum saying:
“If you ask a beautiful bluebird to walk on the ground instead of soaring the skies, she will be declared a failure.”
And she replied, saying:
“This beautiful bluebird is now free to fly.”
My parents supported me for the next little while, followed by which I took another job. Stayed in Bangalore. Quit another job. Came back to Delhi. Battled a life-threatening illness. Had my first solo exhibition.
And after a few years, I went to Sydney, Australia, to pursue a 3-year degree in Fine Art. This was my second degree, after a first in mass communication.
This picture was taken on the day I was flying out of India, for the first time in my life. I painted a bluebird on the suitcase. A bluebird that was once caught, chained, caged. But now, it was time for the bluebird to fly.
I completed my degree, and after a few more ups and downs and a few more years, I’m happy to say that I am a professional artist and art educator.
I already have a diploma in French B1, just need to get back to it to remember everything I once knew, and then study further to give my B2 exam.
As a single person, it would be good for me to diversify my work and earn from my knowledge of the language as well, alongside earning from art.
Then I will become a dual income household.
Her: You are so creative. You’re an artist. You paint, draw sing, dance. You have degrees and diplomas, awards and grants. Your paintings live in all corners of the world. You’ve exhibited in a couple of countries. You’ve travelled quite a bit and lived in different cities. You’ve had a journey so rich and vast.
Me: Yes. But you, you know what it is like to be loved.
Arushi Nayar retweeted
Based on your tweets as an artist openly navigating mental health, valuing authenticity, resilience, healing and building a life you love, you most resemble Kaira from Dear Zindagi. Creative, independent, seeking growth and self-acceptance without shrinking yourself.
Update:
We have not gotten on a call due to time difference etc., but exchanged warm and heartfelt voice notes. It’s good to hear her voice again. It’s good to know she feels the same.
From the time I started listening to her voice note to the time I responded with mine, I felt something in my forehead - my furrowed eyebrows relaxing, and eventually, my lips curving into a smile.
Thank you to everyone who has been rooting for me. I will reply to all your heartfelt messages in some time.
We are meeting in November, when she’ll be in Delhi!
I met one of my closest friends 10 years ago, while studying French in New Delhi. Both of us were very keen on learning, and we decided to stay back after classes in the canteen, to practice with each other.
We had an unwritten rule between us - that we would not resort to switching to English or Hindi unless absolutely necessary. And so, we learnt to express ourselves, our emotions, our thoughts, our journeys, our stories - in this foreign language.
She and I got to know each other in French, and this language became an inseparable part of our friendship.
Eventually, I left French to continue on my journey towards being a professional artist. I went to Australia to pursue my second degree in Fine Art. My friend went on to pursue a masters degree in French, followed by a PHD, eventually landing a job in Paris, where she lives now.
We have been intermittently in touch, but since we had once been very close, a few years of distance brought with it a certain kind of sourness. The last time she was in India, she expressed desire to meet me. Neither of us followed up with each other. I was unhappy about this, but didn't realise she could have been unhappy about the same thing, without explicitly expressing it.
Once in a while, she would send a reel, to which I would respond. But that was it.
Deep down, I missed our closeness. Our friendship. Our intimate chats. Our inspiring perspectives and world views. The encouragement she once provided me, and the encouragement I once provided to her.
Yesterday, she sent me an invite to her WhatsApp book reading group. But I wondered why she never says anything - she only appears and disappears once or twice each year.
Perhaps she thinks the same of me.
Today, I accepted the invitation to join the book reading club. But, for better or for worse, I sent her a private message as well, expressing my sadness at how she doesn't really talk to me anymore.
Perhaps she could say the same for me. But sometimes, till you don't have a fight, a disagreement, it becomes very hard to engage in repair. To repair, one must first express and also let the other person express themselves.
These days, we don't repair friendships. We don't express our hurt when we feel it - it's easier to cut off or to let go. Maybe this is what both of us were doing all these years.
But something within us kept bringing us back to each other.
The message I sent to her went something like this:
« J’espère que tu vas bien. J’ai une question : pourquoi tu ne parles pas avec moi et tu m'envoies seulement des messages de temps en temps ? La dernière fois que tu es venu, tu as dit que tu voulais qu'on se rencontre. Mais après ça, tu as disparu ! »
But because our friendship was always a safe place, a place where expression could truly blossom, I followed this message up with:
"Aren't you proud of me for being able to fight with you in the very language we had first used when we had met each other many years ago?" (In French).
I am scared. Admittedly scared. I don't know what she will say, or if she would reply at all.
I have not confronted a friend in years. It's easier to just let go. It's easier to never have to fight.
And never having to fight means never giving a relationship the chance to undergo repair.
Maybe we will fight with each other in French and then laugh about it later. Or maybe we will lose the friendship.
But the risk is worth taking, for as of now, it doesn't feel like I still 'have' this friendship in the first place.
There is nothing left to lose.
Arushi Nayar retweeted
I rather miss those days when friends and relatives simply dropped by.
No appointments. No checking calendars.
Just a doorbell, a surprised smile and someone shouting, "Arre, chai chadha do!"
These days, we sometimes need permission even to make a phone call.
Of course, I now quietly peep through the curtains when my own doorbell rings.
So perhaps I'm part of the problem. 😄
Someone will love you just the way you are.
But they will never love the version of you that keeps trying to change, shrink, or be someone else to attain love.
Arushi Nayar retweeted
This is such a brave and beautiful attempt at repair.
I feel the friendships worth saving need an honest conversation more than another year of silence...and I hope you both find your way back to each other, in the very language where your friendship first found its voice...best of luck 😊 🤞🏻
I met one of my closest friends 10 years ago, while studying French in New Delhi. Both of us were very keen on learning, and we decided to stay back after classes in the canteen, to practice with each other.
We had an unwritten rule between us - that we would not resort to switching to English or Hindi unless absolutely necessary. And so, we learnt to express ourselves, our emotions, our thoughts, our journeys, our stories - in this foreign language.
She and I got to know each other in French, and this language became an inseparable part of our friendship.
Eventually, I left French to continue on my journey towards being a professional artist. I went to Australia to pursue my second degree in Fine Art. My friend went on to pursue a masters degree in French, followed by a PHD, eventually landing a job in Paris, where she lives now.
We have been intermittently in touch, but since we had once been very close, a few years of distance brought with it a certain kind of sourness. The last time she was in India, she expressed desire to meet me. Neither of us followed up with each other. I was unhappy about this, but didn't realise she could have been unhappy about the same thing, without explicitly expressing it.
Once in a while, she would send a reel, to which I would respond. But that was it.
Deep down, I missed our closeness. Our friendship. Our intimate chats. Our inspiring perspectives and world views. The encouragement she once provided me, and the encouragement I once provided to her.
Yesterday, she sent me an invite to her WhatsApp book reading group. But I wondered why she never says anything - she only appears and disappears once or twice each year.
Perhaps she thinks the same of me.
Today, I accepted the invitation to join the book reading club. But, for better or for worse, I sent her a private message as well, expressing my sadness at how she doesn't really talk to me anymore.
Perhaps she could say the same for me. But sometimes, till you don't have a fight, a disagreement, it becomes very hard to engage in repair. To repair, one must first express and also let the other person express themselves.
These days, we don't repair friendships. We don't express our hurt when we feel it - it's easier to cut off or to let go. Maybe this is what both of us were doing all these years.
But something within us kept bringing us back to each other.
The message I sent to her went something like this:
« J’espère que tu vas bien. J’ai une question : pourquoi tu ne parles pas avec moi et tu m'envoies seulement des messages de temps en temps ? La dernière fois que tu es venu, tu as dit que tu voulais qu'on se rencontre. Mais après ça, tu as disparu ! »
But because our friendship was always a safe place, a place where expression could truly blossom, I followed this message up with:
"Aren't you proud of me for being able to fight with you in the very language we had first used when we had met each other many years ago?" (In French).
I am scared. Admittedly scared. I don't know what she will say, or if she would reply at all.
I have not confronted a friend in years. It's easier to just let go. It's easier to never have to fight.
And never having to fight means never giving a relationship the chance to undergo repair.
Maybe we will fight with each other in French and then laugh about it later. Or maybe we will lose the friendship.
But the risk is worth taking, for as of now, it doesn't feel like I still 'have' this friendship in the first place.
There is nothing left to lose.