Thursday, March 8, 2018

New comics and works in progress

This blog has taken a long hiatus – and I want to say I have been consistently writing even though it hasn't been here – but really, I have been slack at doing that. In saying that, I've just been using my Notes app on my phone and computer.

But there's something great about writing here, documented on the internet for others and myself (in the future) to look back and remind myself of who I am now.

I spent an hour this morning at Supreme Supreme going through a story I had spent close to ten years writing. I find that a lot of me has moved on from who I used to be when I wrote them, from about 2005 to 2014. But at the same time, parts of me remember being that person who wrote them and it feels like a very thin foil exists between who I have had to become and who the writer of that story was. And I can easily slip back to being that person.

I dream of taking three months break from the life that I call mine now and live in the hills in India to re-write and complete the book Sirion Diaries. It may be called a different name, and may have a completely different taste but I know that the essence of the younger me that wrote it will live among the panels and pages.

I am excited.

For now I am working on second episode of Deep Blue. 

Tuesday, April 25, 2017

Our Crisis x Spirituality and Stories

Somehow we in the western world have lost our ability to imagine along the lines of myths and stories, somehow we have become too logical and black and white, somehow we have become too dependent on what is politically correct, and what is considered acceptable or cool nowadays – somehow imagery of kingdoms and kings and royalty has taken a backseat in our spiritual consciousness – simply because we are so bad at connecting (and maybe too lazy to make attempts to connect) with ideas that are alien to us – we have become so self-obsessed that when it pertains to imagery that has no direct connotations to us, we switch off and call it irrelevant.

Here are some examples. We simply cannot watch a movie if the main protagonist looks a little different, or is an unknown face. We cannot listen to music that ‘just sounds weird’; why should I waste my time on that anyway? We cannot talk to the person sitting at the mall, cos he’s probably from the middle east or something and probably sound like one. We expect producers of art and culture to tailor-make all the content so they’re relevant to us, precious little consumers that we all are. We expect people to speak our language before we make any effort to connect with them. We expect a guy or a girl to tick off a few requirements before we let him or her into our friend-list. We expect religion to pander to our need for hype, lights and quick shots of motivation (nothing too intense, please).

But we should know that we are the ones that miss out. The world is a big place and we really need to let the world and humanity surprise us with what we are not familiar with and embrace it, and flow with it.

If we aren't able to get over ourselves and sometimes see Life in the context and metaphors that aren't directly relatable to us we will miss out on key important aspects of Life that we simply can’t afford to let happen. To assume that God must be directly relevant to us is a seriously self-obsessed idea, the idea that God should fit into the box of our experiences alone and anything otherwise is to be brushed aside is a fatal crisis. We need to have enough patience to be able to hear and connect with stories and experiences of others that has no direct relation to our own stories and experiences. In other words, we need to get over ourselves.

What brings me to tears

What brings me to tears is seeing how amazing people are - and how amazing their gifts are, and the light that shines through their eyes when they are doing what they are created to do. 

What brings me to tears about these is when I realise that these humans are piercing into a different dimension and realm at the same time they are inhabiting this present realm in all their humanness and limitations and yet, here they are as conduits and vessels of excellence and love and joy and LIFE from another dimension, from Life beyond, from abundant life beyond what we see with our human limited sight - and still don’t know this. They still go home to cry about their anxieties, about their failed dreams, and not realise that in that moment of Life they become immortal and untouchable – if they knew enough to love Life they would never need to fear or be afraid. Life IS for them. Life is violently and unabashedly for them. 

There is this unrealised Reality that we touch everytime we see a dancer or an artist or a singer or a human enjoying the sight of a sunset. Yet they don’t know this. And to them it is mere work, mere task, mere roles they need to fulfil. 

We fail to realise that there is nothing more spiritual than art – and it brings me to tears that we let these eternal moments go by.

Saturday, November 5, 2016

Down to the River

You need a wash, a good scrubbing, a long ordeal of a bath to wash away the layers of tar that life smears on you every few months. Otherwise you forget who you are. Otherwise you forget why you cried the other night, why you laughed like a mad man, why you watched the sun set with so much depth to it, why you read that book and felt the wave of emotion rush through you... You forget it all and become just another cog in the machinery – that part of you that was meant to shine through the brightest shimmer dimly now...

You have to fight for that life inside you, that spark of innocence.

You need to go down to the river time and time again. Bath in it, remind yourself of who you are. Why you are alive. And what makes you angry, smile, laugh and most of all cry. 

Monday, May 9, 2016


I have changed. Change is good but when you come face to face with who you used to be and sense the raw nature that exudes from the old you, you conclude to yourself a sad truth. You have grown up. You have become polished. You have become a man. Well dressed, well spoken, politically correct. Corrected. Refined. Painfully correct.

What happened to that young soul that watched the dancing leaves on a tree in the moonlight and felt a wave of soul cover him? What happened to that young soul that made up adjectives and nouns and descriptions that never existed until that very moment when that deep emotion was released in a form of a never-heard-of word. A young soul brave enough to be honest. Bold enough to write and bleed his deepest raw self into a blog that opened itself to anyone on the Internet, that became a free content on the anonymous Web?

You grew up. You became – this.

I don't hate my present self. Never. I am too proud to admit that – even if I did.

Change is beautiful. But at the same time to change what was beautiful to become dull and mediocre and toned down, is a tragedy. Stay young. Stay foolish. Stay raw. Stay honest. 

Writing and Reading

Writing and reading is about rhythm, like music is. The opening lines perhaps set the tempo, the bpm. And what follows is the ebb and flow of a vocabulary that goes well deeper than words and languages. 

Thursday, March 10, 2016

Mind Blown

How do we become one with a son of God who is 'at one with the Father' and by becoming one with the son, we become one with the Father – and all this to make us one with the ultimate force, the ultimate energy, the absolute reality, the Grand Unified Theory, the Om, the Raa, the mystical energy, the Life – all fully contained in this flesh body we have, some of us 6 feet, some of us 5, some 4 some 7, yet all of us intrinsically and beautifully human, fluent and stammering in tongues, smooth and troubled in our thinking, having tendencies to be violent having tendencies to be passive, black hair, blonde, brown hair, simply human, all of the godhead contained in this physical, emotional, soulful, mental us?
That blows my mind.