Tales of Crashing

For the longest time, snowboarding has been something I have wanted to do. What I did on my first day may be called snowboarding in the sense that I had a board secured firmly to my feet, but  I'd much rather call it snow crashing. Precisely because regularly tumbling down the hill, numerous faceplants, an occasional back and/or front flip and the ever so rare double 360 front flip on the face are not generally  what is called a successful day on the mountains. Plainly put I sucked, big time. All my illusions of being a natural were completely washed away by the eighth time I crashed and burned.

Cervinia is amazing. Imagine every picture postcard you have seen of any European hill town, or imagine any idyllic snow covered village in the Alps. Cervinia is that. Half in Italy and half in Switzerland, it has the longest slopes in Europe. When you see the French national ski team doing their practice sessions 100 feet from you, you know you are in the right place. Starting off from Milano at seven in the morning we reached Valtournache, the city before Cervinia at ten. There we found that avalanche warnings had been issued and the roads closed down because of a freak storm. So in a very Italian fashion the driver asked us to get down and told us, you can get the next bus. Well eight hours and a few bottles of wine later we were still in the street with no way to get to Cervinia because the roads were still blocked. So we check into the first hotel we find and guess who our neighbours are ? The French national ski team.  It might have been me but it was just the women's team I think... :P

The next morning, lo and behold, the skies have cleared up, the sun is shining and there has been a meter of fresh snowfall. In short, ideal conditions. So at 11 in the morning we reach Cervinia, check into our apartments and rent out the equipment, namely special shoes and a snowboard.  Then we ask for lessons, but  because its Sunday, no instructors. We figure (me especially) it's ok, we can try on our own, how hard can it be ?? We just keep on the blue tracks and we'll be fine.(The slopes are  classified in colours : Blue for Beginners, Red for Intermediate users and Black for the Ski Jedi mofos)

So we head to the ski lifts. At Plan Maison (Level 1 - 2555 mtrs. up) we find out that all the blue slopes are closed because of last night's mayhem. So we head on to Theodulpass i.e level 2. Here one slope that is half blue and half red is good to go. Now level 2 is 3301 mtrs. up. So once there, there are only two ways down : the board or the lift. So of course I choose to go down the slope. What with my inherent core balance and strong legs I should be fine.

I got my ass kicked up and down and sideways and in ways I didn't even know I could be beat on. When you stand up on the board the first time you have this feeling of elation. It's like, "Wooohooo!! I'm doing it!!" Then as you slide down about 50 mtrs. in a few seconds, you start smiling and exactly then, POW!! You go ass/face first into the snow. Sometimes both, don't ask me how, it happens.

Now the fun part of crashing is the acrobatics. Aerial somersaults, cartwheels, flip side 360's etc. You see people do them on TV and go I wanna do that!! Well I did. I did crash at the end of these tricks instead of land on my feet, but they still count for me! Fortunately, the falling and crashing was fun. Because of the insane snowfall the previous night the slopes were covered in a powdery cushion. So no matter how hard I crashed, and I had some really bad ones I always got up smiling partly because of the acrobatics and partly knowing I wasn't going to get badly hurt.

In my defense, the first time I ever clipped on the board, I did try to ride a red slope. Although unsuccessful, I guess that has to count for something. After some lessons the next day I find out that snowboarding is infinitely hard to be good at in a few days let alone instinctively. My instructor burst out laughing when I told him I had been on a red slope the first day. He asked me if I was crazy, then not waiting for me to reply, shook his head insisting I was. After a successful day on the practice slopes I was much more confident. Knowing the technique is essential to snowboarding. Your knees and legs are basically useless. It's all in the hips. The shoulder must always remain parallel to the board exactly along its axis. If you lean too much that is the direction you crash in. When you push the hips back you turn to the left facing down the slope, when you thrust the hips forward you turn right facing up the slope. That's it, those are the three positions on the board, hips front, hips center and hips back.

Day three brought another snowstorm. Not the kind that shuts down everything but the kind in which you can't see more than 10 feet and your footprints disappear every 3 minutes. It was snowing since the night and hence we assumed that the slopes would be closed. They were not. So at 1 in the afternoon I head back to the practice slopes. Walking through the storm, wiping the snow off my face every 30 seconds I was amazed to see kids there as well. Little ones, like six years old going at it. So I strapped on my board and went at it. About 3 hours of hips in, hips out later, I was able not only to go down the slopes without crashing, but also stop and stay on my feet. So now that I can manage just a tiny bit, what's the first thing I do ?? Head to the slopes of course. Taking the last chairlift of the day I reached the top. It was windy, heavy snow and I couldn't see shit, except that the slope was substantially steeper than I imagined.  With one last breath I went for it. Hips in, Hips out, remember the center of balance, no flailing arms all these instructions playing in my mind. It was good and then I crashed. It's not that I did not expect to, but I was disappointed. On the bright side I had covered almost a third of the line. A few more crashes later I stood on top of the last descent before I reached the base. Determined not to fall I pushed off. It was magic. I swerved right, the left then picked up speed and just as the slope mellowed down I leaned in and turned to come to a perfect halt. 

That one moment was worth all the crap I'd put myself for the past three days. That one brilliant slope, that one perfect stop. It was a thing of beauty for me, a pure rush of joy. That is also when i knew I am addicted, that I have do this again. And so I will, soon. I look forward to it.

Vague Much ?

To think that I understand is a magnanimous assumption. Not only on my part of perception but also on my ability to even comprehend what it is that I am trying to understand. this uneven tumultuous flow is always unnerving and always exciting, at the same time! It links everything and everyone into this continuous chain of events and experiences which eventually becomes the root of all other experiences. To understand these roots is to back to the awareness of what they represent, not only in the mind but also as manifestations in the physical world. But then are these manifestations of thoughts or just projections of past memories ? For if all of life is a circle, these roots are then the string that links the past to the present, the present to the future and the future to the past even ?

And then there is me, standing in the middle of this giant all enveloping, fluid, continuously swirling mass of relative reality mortified, stupefied, dumbstruck, curious, amazed and completely in awe all at the same time.

7 x 2

If I think back now, my first striking memory of the journey here is " It smells like peaches." It was after the flight attendants on board the British Airways flight sprayed an Aerosol for disinfection into the air. We were advised to keep our eyes and mouth closed in case we feared allergic reaction. All I could think of was what it smelled like. Peaches. Hehehe. That I was on a plane, leaving home for London and then Milan was the farthest thing on my mind.

I remember being distinctly excited, to be flying out of the country. Don't exactly recall why. In any case at 37,000 feet, the outline of the coast of western India is pretty clear, and you know that you are definitely out.  Gujarat was pretty obvious and then I saw a city that could have only been Karachi. You look down on Pakistan and it just looks so calm and ....for lack of a better word, peaceful. But then maybe at night every place in the world is.

Passing through Heathrow and its duty free in the morning I was once again reminded what spoilt for choice means. I was also informed that within Europe one is allowed to carry up to 10 litres of alcohol (for all those of you who did not know... ;) Landing in Milan, I braced myself for immigration and to my incredible confusion, there was no check. All they did was look at my passport. I still don't quite understand it. I mean one look at me at Heathrow invited a check for explosives, and here at Linate, a smile and a "Welcome to Italy." A friendly face on the other side was a relief, and one that knew how to get around, I thanked my lucky stars!!! Yes I am talking about you Ketaki... :)

The Duomo is an exquisite structure and the piazza around it is like something out of one's dream. The first time I saw it I got only a glimpse on my way to the hostel where I was supposed to live. That same evening however,   I did return there, partly for work but mostly because I couldn't get that building out of my head.  My first few days are sort of a blur. All I remember is running around and a lot of paperwork. But what I also remember is the overwhelming amount of Design in this city. Everywhere, in the tiniest of things, somebody thinks of what is good. It was overwhelming, and so promptly put out of the mind.

At the end of the first week, when I finally had time to breathe, I finally went inside the Duomo. As an architect, that scale is something you rarely experience in India. And by that I mean the scale of the space inside, more than that of the entire building. Once inside however, it's a whole other story. Paying no attention to the intricate carvings and statues on the outside of the church I entered only to be stopped dead in my tracks. At the first 15 meter high stained glass windows, I was overwhelmed. The sight of that window, the detailing in the centuries old glass work was too much. I think that I stopped processing at that time. I ambled about the cathedral but barely remember seeing anything else. I now know there are about twenty more windows with equally if not more intricate glass work. I think as was the case with the rest of Milan, I just could not absorb it. I think I'll have to go there at least a dozen times before I can fully see the structure let alone appreciate it. :)

Having friends here, especially ones that I can speak with freely in Marathi has been amazing. And calling up home whenever I want to is an added bonus. But making new friends, people from all around the world has been such an amazing experience. I can honestly say now that I have a friend on every continent and that to me is quite amazing!! I do miss home, especially now when it is Diwali time. I miss the lantern making, I miss the lights, I miss meeting family and friends but mostly I miss my grandmother. Ajji is that one shining beacon of joy in my life and just talking about missing her has now brought tears to my eyes. So I will talk to her. Tomorrow and the day after. Every time I call, every time I Skype.

 It was walking back from a Diwali dinner hosted by a indian family here yesterday that I realised how much of who I am is tied to where I come from. How all those tiny things that we do make us Indian. And that not having those things here makes you realise how far away you are even if your family is just a phone call away.

The past two weeks here have been so rich and vivid with life and colour and experiences. As I start school I can only look forward to what lies ahead. The people here are fun and lively and caring and rude and pretentious just like everywhere else. And Milan is beautiful and bright and interesting and challenging and obnoxious and dark and well ......normal like every other city.  I now call it home.

Questions

There are times in life when things happen that are beyond your control. When no matter how bad you want something to happen it doesn’t. When sometimes no matter what, all you get is disappointment. And every time things like this happen you ask yourself but one question "Why me ??"

Well let me ask back why not you ?? What is the difference between you and  the thousands of other mortals that face disappointment each and every day ??  Why is it such a tragedy in your life that you could not get into a club on opening night when people who don’t get jobs to feed their families find the strength to move one ?? Why  is it so difficult for us to instantly look at our situation and analyse it objectively ?? Why ?!?!?

EGO ?

Failure hurts ? Failure makes us feel inadequate ? Failure makes us feel alone ?? Failure makes us feel unworthy of love ?? Of success ?? Of happiness ?? But then is it failure ?? What is failure ?? Was it not just circumstance ?? Is there no strength in your soul to deal with these minor issues in life ??

Or does this happenstance change you ?? Does it light a fire within you ?? Does it ignite a desire to become someone that doesn’t fail, that is never disappointed, never inadequate and never unloved ?? Do your actions define who you are or does who you are define your actions ?? Is it petty and juvenile for such a trivial incident to make you want to change yourself or is it tiny, seemingly inconsequential events like these that have a larger part to play in the whole scheme of things ?? Do they trigger a chain reaction that forever changes everything ??

At the end of the day how do you decide to fill in that gaping void left inside you ??? How does one make up for losing a part of who they are ?? Are there really any answers to these questions ?? Do you really want to hear any of them ?? And after you do, will you be able to handle them ??

KARMA

Whatever you do shall be returned to you. As a defining principle of my faith, karma is pretty powerful and equally scary. That it can be carried over just makes it more so.

I recently figured out that I think without any doubt, the most potent weapon used by Karma to balance the scales is love. It’s an instrument of torture unlike any other cause we inflict it on ourselves and suffer willingly.

A torturer may at some point take pity and show mercy, he may take a break from physical exhaustion or just might get plain bored of the whole exercise. But when one goes to work on himself, he is unmerciful, untiring and relentless. One believes that he is justified and at most times he is. For someone with a purpose, love is the most lethal combination, like a deranged surgeon with a scalpel that will never dull.

To feel love and not have it even acknowledged, let alone returned is sheer madness. It can trap you in your head and keep you there, always alert never to loose consciousness. It will show you glorious visions of peace and happiness, let them soak into you and then rip them out the next instant. It is a pain beyond comparison. It eats at you from the inside, chokes the very breath out of you and leaves you a hollow empty shell of who you once were. At the end, the cycle just starts over. The beauty of this method is that the victim rarely realises he is his own tormentor. Trapped in his own visions, he becomes oblivious to all the truth around him and locks himself within this dark chamber of horrors. He begins to believe that pain is who is, that suffering is his life.

Some escape their confinement, an achievement in itself. But that leaves a balance, to be repaid later in life with full interest that builds up exponentially. Once the debt of karma is paid however, the clouds suddenly part and sunshine pours in. You emerge from your prison bruised, battered and sometimes completely broken in every which way but alive and with full knowledge of the sum of all your experiences in the darkness. Fate and Destiny are beyond our control but they are neither cruel nor do they ever mean you harm. Karma on the other hand is kind of sneaky. For what it makes you do to yourself, it gives back a gift like none other   – SELF DISCOVERY

Only when you put yourself through unimaginable hurt do you realise how much you can endure. And trust me, no one can inflict more pain on you than you yourself. You know all your weaknesses, in mind and body. Only you can pry into and scratch at those tiniest of cracks in a way that causes maximum pain, only you have the ability to break your spirit, to wound the soul.

For those that persevere and survive the ordeal, they are granted a clean slate, but above all - an iron will. A will forged in the heat of pain and suffering and tempered by the knowledge of self. The strength to take on all that comes and do right by your hearts desires.

Personally I believe that death is the greatest leveller. So everyone comes in and goes out free. In life Karma chooses the most appropriate punishment for all your transgressions. The common belief is if you steal, you will be stolen from, if you break you will be broken, if you are selfish people will be selfish with you, if you break someone’s heart your hear will be broken, If all you do is want you shall NEVER receive. While that may be true, every once in a while someone’s pile of offences becomes too high. That is when Karma waltzes in with the ultimate atonement for every sin – Love. With a few leisurely flicks of its broom, karma cleans out everything and gives you the chance to come out the other side a better person, provided you are willing to suffer the price.

Cognitive Loop - Digital Architecture Workshop

I was recently part of a workshop on Digital Architecture. The focus of the session was experimentation with modelling tools, namely Rhino and result oriented code writing i.e. scripting to generate real world solutions for our visualisations. The design project for this workshop was a pavilion based in a hypothetical site of 100 sqm. This is my interpretation.

Human thought is mellow, sensuous and free flowing. The perception and processing of all environment and stimuli is similarly protean. Each line of thought can be defined as a pathway that the mind follows from its inception to its conclusion or transformation into another beginning. This constant interweaving can best be represented as a series of sinuous lines that overlap each other and extend infinitely in all dimensions. To project this continuous process into the built environment it has had to fit into the rectilinear geometry of existing structural design.

If the perception of space is directly related to how it is composed of physical and non-material elements, then by placing experiential boundaries which may be actual or not, spatial character and dynamics can be defined as a response to site and context.

This pavilion was an attempt to break free of conventional spatial stereotypes attached to experiencing structural interventions in public outdoor spaces.

The basic form was developed by defining two pathways – the physical and the visual.

The physical pathway was defined by the intended route of circulation through and around the structure. The visual pathway was defined by the inherent tendencies of visual perception. The base frame was a juxtaposition of these pathways within the constraints of the site. Using contemporary modelling tools, these pathways were amalgamated in to a single dynamic flowing surface that is a representation of the fluid nature of human perception.

To bring this expression from the virtual into the physical realm, experimentation was carried out on the surface with the concepts of parameterization and considering the planar rib as the primary design element. By introducing a directional grid of interlocking ribs to represent the surface, a third structural pathway was automated into the pavilion.

The end result is expected to be a material intervention that will activate the public space into which it will be placed.


The final model for the presentation was made of interlocking ribs laser cut out of 3mm thick transparent acrylic sheets.

Summer Rain

She splashes water everywhere,

Her nose scrunched with determination

Not a single leaf shall be left wanting,

Of the glory of this summer rain

She makes it pour, a smile on her face,

Her nimble fingers make the water dance

In the light of the setting sun,

She stands triumphant

The water queen of this twinkling mountain garden ....

Sadhu

A roaring fire burns,
Turning wood to ash

The flame glow bright,
In the eyes of a naked man

His life is sacrifice, His life is virtue,
He is alone, the world passes him by

Every breath measured, every word uttered,
Chosen so he does not waste

His eyes deep and dark,
Stare into the heart of the blaze
His patience is his penance, his strength

Devotion to his lord,
Helps him overcome,
Makes him forget,
Makes him immune

Soon he knows,
The ash will become his skin,

So that fire burns,
The flame glows bright.....

Bungy

From the ledge I look down,
The water cold and blue

The wind that howls,
Suddenly falls silent

The moment of truth draws closer

Inch by inch, half over the edge,
Only one way out, down

No fear or apprehension,
Surrounded by a quiet calm

Off into the air a leap,
The freedom of flight

Time stands still,
The world is a blur

And then the cord snaps back,
Holds on to you like reality

Euphoria,
Leaves you wanting more.....

Gaia

The sweet scent of jasmine,
Water fragrant and warm

A small sip bathed in yellow light,
The quiet peace of night.

Pashupatinath

Wandering through Kathmandu on day two of my trip I really wanted to see the much fabled Pashupatinath temple. The holiest of all Hindu temples in Nepal, Pashupatinath stands as a gleaming edifice of worship on the banks of the Bagamati River in Kathmandu. It is not known when the Linga was actually placed there but records mention the presence of the temple as far back as the 3^rd century B.C. The temple was last rebuilt in the 17^th century and is constructed in the Pagoda Style typical to the Kathmandu Valley. It has beautiful woodwork, the roofs are covered with gold and the doors covered with silver.

The terrain in the temple complex is quite uneven, not to mention the large area that the complex actually occupies as well. So finding the actual temple can become difficult. Add to it the fact that the next day was Mahashivrtra, there was a throng of people everywhere. In that confusion I ended up going everywhere from the toilets to the old age ashram to the cremation platforms on the river banks before I found myself before the majestic painted entrance to the main temple.

On entering the main complex all I could see in front of me was a giant Nandi statue covered in gold, so big that you almost can’t see the temple behind it.  And on top of this Nandi, monkeys, just hanging out. Pashupatinath being patron deity of animals they have full freedom to do anything inside the temple premises. As an architect I was very affected by the scale and the quiet grace of the structure. The temple doesn’t speak much, it is simple but its silence is its strength. Against all the black stone and masonry around it the silver doors stand out eloquently speaking of the shrines importance.

Then there was the horde of Sadhus who had descended into the complex in preparation for next day’s festivities. I stood there astounded at that sight. Each sadhu had lit a fire in front of him, turning wood into the Bhasma (ash) that they cover their bodies with. This being my first encounter with the Naga Sadhus, I was amazed with their appearance. White as ghosts, naked as the day they were born, naked as the day they died from the material world, hair matted or in locks an inch thick, beards grown so thick the only visible part of the face was the forehead, eyes deep and dark, the old ones emanating a strength which I have never seen before, that which comes from penance, that which can only be experienced, never captured except in memory.

As the collective fire roared, the smoke became thick and white against the now darkening azure sky. Suddenly the rows of oil lamps burning at the base of the main temple platform became noticeable. As I walked down the stairs towards the platform, I came across a younger sadhu who was helping an ancient one to the other end of the courtyard. I stood to let them pass, the old sadhu looked at me and stopped abruptly. He mumbled something. His apprentice leaned over to hear and rose up, both of them smiling knowingly at me. Taken aback I asked him what happened and he replied, “You have good fortune” flashing that smile again. For some reason, I bent over and touched the old ones feet which caught him by surprise. I don’t think the Naga Sadhus are used to people touching their feet. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that they all consider themselves dead. He mumbled something again. Assuming it was aashirwad I bowed and left.

I got to the end of the line which wrapped around the temple all the way to the back of the actual darshan area. I stood there soaking in the revelry around me, the chanting of the mantras, screams of Jai Shambho and Har Har Mahadev, the smoke from the fires, the incense and the chillum’s. Probably one of the few places in the world where the passive smoke from the ganja can make you light headed and suddenly alert at the same time, which I was. The monkey acrobatics also kept me entertained. Especially the ones that were high on the smoke as well. At the base of the platform on which I stood in line, were the rows of lamps that I had seen from the door. Their flames flickered in the wind, and their light reflected off the faces of everyone who passed by them.

As the sky turned darker the fires seemed to burn brighter, the billowing smoke making a sort of screen on which the light from the flames and the shadows leapt and danced. The colours grey and yellow and red and blue and black and orange seemed like the splashes on an abstract canvas, all one, yet so different, all of them alive. The light was muted but ever so graceful and the cacophony of sound infused the atmosphere with an energy that was almost electric.

Then it was my turn for the darshan. By some coincidence at that same time the Bhatta's inside the temple decided that it had grown too dark. So they lit the additional lamps inside the sanctum and gave the order to switch on the other lights installed in the temple for the next day. The illumination was sudden and the reaction was a collective “aah” that caught everyone’s attention. The whole complex was engulfed in the warm glow of soft yellow light.

The main temple with its burnished silver and gold sparkled like a jewel. The thousand lights suspended over the court like a swarm of fireflies, the gentle breeze making them sway. Maybe this is what the sadhu meant of when he spoke of good luck, maybe it was two naked Sadhus laughing at the futility of my clothes, who knows.

I walked off the platform after the darshan and roamed about the complex seeing its every nook and cranny. As I walked out towards where I had kept my shoes, I was in a state that I can only describe as “sensory overload.” My mind was furiously trying to process everything it had been exposed to, the visual, the audible, the spiritual and also the incomprehensible. It failed miserably. By the time I came out of my trance I was back at the hotel, I just had to put pen on paper. I just had to get it all out.