Beyond the Canvas: Giving New Life to Old Cake Bases (Two New Lippan Art Pieces!)

 Hello, art lovers!

Today, the creative spark took over, and I finally sat down to complete a brand-new art piece. I’ll admit, I got a little lazy about posting my previous work, so today you are getting a double treat! I am sharing two completely different Lippan art pieces, each with its own unique vibe.

But before we dive into the designs, I have to talk about the canvas itself. If you know me, you know my work heavily focuses on reusing and repurposing.

Here is my latest favorite hack: instead of buying brand-new MDF boards from the store, I used old cake bases! Most cake bases these days are made of thin, sturdy MDF. So why throw them away when they can be the perfect foundation for beautiful art? Next time you bring a cake home, save that base and use it as your next canvas!

Now, let me introduce you to the new pieces.

Piece 1: Traditional Lotus

The piece I finished today is deeply rooted in tradition. It is inspired by the timeless lotus motif, a classic in Indian art. To elevate the design and add a layer of texture, I blended traditional Lippan work with a little bit of dot mandala art. The combination makes the whole piece look incredibly intricate, detailed, and elegant.

Piece 2: Modern Geometric Vibrancy

In complete contrast to the first, last week’s piece takes a plunge into the modern art form. There are no traditional motifs here—just clean, rectangular lines intersecting to form a bold geometrical pattern. I used vivid, bright colors to give it a striking, contemporary edge that really pops.

I love how different these two turned out, despite using the exact same recycled material as a base. It just goes to show how versatile Lippan art can be!

Which one appeals to you more? Are you team traditional lotus, or team modern geometric? Let me know in the comments below!

P.S. If you love the idea of eco-friendly crafting, don’t forget to check out my posts from last year. I uploaded three other Lippan art pieces made entirely from waste materials. Go check them out for more upcycling inspiration!

The Joy of Negligible Cooking

 In most modern urban homes today, having a cook or a live-in maid is the standard template of daily life. Yet, for over fifteen years—ever since my marriage—I have chosen a different path. I handle the kitchen myself.

My reasons are less about culinary perfection and more about protecting my peace. I absolutely refuse to fuss around with anyone early in the morning. I deeply crave a serene, calm start to my day. My maid arrives at 5:00 AM—a time often referred to as Brahma Muhurta, the sacred, quiet hours before dawn. Frankly, who wants to begin a day born of that stillness by pointing out mistakes or managing someone else? So, she does what she needs to do, and I prefer to dose off on my couch, keeping the morning speech-free and quiet.

By 8:30 AM on any given day, breakfast and lunch are completely done.

But I am only human. There are absolutely mornings where I look at the stove and think, “Oh, I wish I had a cook. I wish someone else would just handle this today.”

And today, the universe granted that wish in its own sweet way. Today was a rare, beautiful day of negligible cooking.

I can’t claim it was a "no-cooking" day, because the kitchen wasn’t entirely abandoned. The ritual of morning tea still happened, and I rolled out rotis for dinner. But beyond that? Nothing. The heavy lifting was entirely off my hands.

Instead of the usual kitchen routine, the day filled itself with life’s gentler rhythms:

Family & Food: We went out shopping and enjoyed a great meal. I got to step back and just enjoy the moment, watching my son proudly tackle a plate of biryani all by himself, followed by a sweet ice cream treat.

Creativity: I managed to finish a new piece of artwork. It’s sitting there just waiting for a few final touch-ups, and I can't wait to share it soon.

Preparation: Even the laundry got cleared out of the way, intentionally making room for a completely unburdened Sunday.

Between the shopping, the art, the whole day just felt... relaxed. Unhurried.

Some days just feel that way, I guess. When you step away from the daily rituals of caretaking, even just a little bit, you realize that a break doesn't have to be a grand vacation. Sometimes, the deepest rejuvenation comes from a perfectly ordinary day with just a tiny, negligible amount of cooking.

A Hug in a Cup: Finding Joy in the Mini Moments!!

 Sometimes, the best kind of creativity is the one that doesn't require a grand plan. It’s the kind that sparks spontaneously on a quiet afternoon, born out of a simple craving for warmth, comfort, and a good brew.

Yesterday, I felt compelled to make something small, sweet, and entirely for myself.

This is my latest mini canvas painting—a little tribute to my absolute love for tea. I wanted it to feel alive, so I used a 3D relief texture to give the teacup, saucer, and rising steam a physical, sculptural presence against a bright, cheerful background. Every time I look at it, it feels exactly like what the text says: a hug in a cup.

Right now, it’s sitting fresh on its little wooden easel right on my workspace. I initially thought about waiting until I had the "perfect" kitchen corner styled and ready before sharing it. But art isn't about perfection; it's about the raw joy of the process. Why wait to share a blessing when it's beautiful right now?

It will find its permanent home near the kettle soon enough, but for tonight, it’s a perfect reminder to slow down, appreciate the little things, and always make time for a comforting cup of tea.

How do you take your comfort on a rainy or quiet day? Let me know in the comments!

The Bees, the Flies, and the Toxic Trap of Endless Patience

 ​We’ve all heard the classic mindset parable about bees and flies. I read a variation of it in a newspaper column just today. The columnist argued that the human mind often acts like a fly—not because it loves garbage, but because it willfully leaves a perfectly good environment just to land on a negative spot. The example given? A woman who acknowledges everything else in her life is fine, yet still complains about her in-laws.

​The moral we are fed is simple: Stop letting your mind wander to the negatives. Focus on the good.

​It sounds beautiful on a motivational poster. But as I read that neatly packaged advice, the pristine logic cracked. The column left me with questions that "pop-psychology" completely fails to answer.

​Because in the real world, life isn't just about ignoring a flaw to enjoy the rest of the room. It’s about how we endure, how we react, and when we finally decide that a "small" complaint is actually a major boundary issue.

Let’s be honest: nobody reacts badly to every single flick in life. Most of us don't start out as "flies." In fact, the vast majority of people spend years trying to be the ultimate bee.

We ignore the slights. We overlook toxic behavior. We actively mine for a single drop of goodness in a desert of bad situations. We stretch our patience, believing it to be a bottomless virtue.

But patience is an unknown entity. It has a shelf life, and enduring a bad situation without change eventually leads to a breaking point.

One fine day, you wake up completely exhausted. The honey is gone. You finally speak up, set a boundary, or express your pain. And what happens? The system instantly labels you a "fly."

That isn't right. You didn't seek out the garbage; you were just forced to live in it for too long. Labeling someone as negative the moment they stop enduring is a subtle form of social silencing. It demands absolute submission under the guise of "virtue."

In the newspaper article I read, the columnist used a familiar trope to illustrate the "fly mentality": a woman complaining about her in-laws.

Frankly, it pissed me off.

Why is it always a woman used as the blueprint for domestic negativity? Why not men? Do men never complain about their in-laws, or does society just frame their boundaries differently? When a man distances himself from a difficult family dynamic, he’s often seen as "protecting his peace" or being independent. But when a woman gives voice to systemic discomfort, she is instantly pigeonholed as a bitter, complaining fly.

This weaponizes a mindset metaphor to police women’s emotions. It implies that if she just "looked for the flowers," the underlying friction would magically disappear.

But ignoring what is fundamentally wrong doesn't make it right. It just makes it quiet.

A healthy human ecosystem needs both responses. If you live entirely as a bee, refusing to acknowledge danger or toxicity, you walk straight into traps. Sometimes, noticing the garbage—the fly's domain—is an act of survival. It’s how we identify what needs to be cleaned up, changed, or walked away from.

Life is a complex summation of everything. It’s how you respond to the good, how you endure the difficult, and how you stand up for yourself when boundaries are crossed. It cannot be reduced to a binary choice between two insects.

Does it even matter if someone tags you as a "fly" if standing your ground brings you the peace and boundaries you actually need? Conversely, what is the point of being praised as a virtuous "bee" if you are entirely hollowed out inside?

True peace isn’t about maintaining a flawless, fake positive outlook while your boundaries are being crushed. It isn't about ignoring reality to keep others comfortable.

Being happy within means giving yourself permission to be human. It means knowing when to look for the flowers, and exactly when to call out the trash.

Finding the "Pasta Moments": Why We Should Teach Our Kids the Art of One Good Thing!!

 There is a quiet magic that happens in a kitchen as evening sets in.

A few days ago, after a long, busy week, I found myself standing over the stove, cooking a simple bowl of pasta for my son and myself. Nearby sat a freshly brewed cup of tea. It wasn't an extraordinary evening by any standard calendar, but as the steam rose from the bowls, a deep sense of comfort settled over me. Looking at that simple spread, I felt a wave of pure gratitude.

It made me think about how often we, as adults, search for big milestones to feel happy, when true contentment usually hides in these small, quiet pockets of the day. And more importantly, it made me realize how urgently we need to teach our children to find those pockets, too.

If a simple bowl of pasta can turn a chaotic day into a comforted one for an adult, imagine what a similar shift in perspective can do for a child.

As parents, we often ask our kids, "How was your day?" and we secretly hope for a glowing report. We want to hear that they listened perfectly, completed every task without complaint, and excelled in everything they did.

But childhood, just like adulthood, is filled with messy transitions. There are days when kids are easily distracted, days when they resist doing their writing or schoolwork, and days when they just want to retreat into their own worlds.

If we only teach them to celebrate the "perfect" days, they learn to overlook the value of ordinary ones.

That is why we need to encourage children to keep a gratitude journal—or at the very least, engage in a daily gratitude ritual. We need to remind them to look for at least one thing that made them feel good.

Why the "One Good Thing" Rule Works for Kids

It Removes the Pressure to Perform: A gratitude practice shouldn’t feel like another piece of homework. By asking a child to find just one small highlight, we shift the focus away from their achievements and look instead at their inner joy.

It Builds Emotional Resilience: When a child has a tough day—maybe a lesson felt too hard, or they felt stubborn and frustrated—identifying one good moment teaches them a vital life skill: a bad moment does not mean a bad day. It teaches them that comfort and frustration can exist at the exact same time.

It Opens a Low-Pressure Window into Their World: Sometimes, children aren't in the mood to talk or write a long summary of their day. But asking, "What was your pasta moment today? What was the one thing that made you smile?" lowers their guard. It’s a gentle, non-invasive bridge into their thoughts.

We don’t need elaborate journals with leather covers to start this practice (though a dedicated notebook can be a wonderful creative outlet for them later). We just need a moment of pause.

Tonight, whether you are sitting down for dinner, driving home, or tucking them into bed, ask your child to share just one thing that felt good today. It might be a game they played by themselves, a funny joke they heard, or simply a favorite food they enjoyed.

Let’s teach our kids that no matter how loud or overwhelming the world gets, there is always a quiet, beautiful detail waiting to be noticed.

The Silent Victory: When Grace Steps In!!

 We live in a world that is obsessed with being seen. We are told that to win, we must constantly showcase our faces, broadcast our voices, and parade our lives for external validation. But what if the truest, most profound victories are the ones that happen in absolute silence? What if the universe is just waiting for us to show up with pure intent, away from the spotlight?

Tonight, I am sitting with a heart full of gratitude for the unseen forces that guide us when we least expect it.

Today as I was about to hit my bed something incredible lit up my spirit. I have written about Prahlad and Narasimha before. And I have always admired them. The dedication of Prahlad won the almighty in such grace that he appeared just to protect him.

In my depressive days I have prayed to Narasimha sometimes tears in my eyes, sometimes smiling and hoping that oneday he too will protect me whether I am the greatest devotee or not. And today was a day purely marked by his grace. I would dedicate this awesome feeling and goosebumps that got just to him.

"उग्रं वीरं महाविष्णुं ज्वलन्तं सर्वतोमुखम् ।नृसिंहं भीषणं भद्रं मृत्युमृत्युं नमाम्यहम् ॥"

"Ugram Veeram Maha-Vishnu Jvalantam Sarvato Mukham

Narasimham Bheeshanam Bhadram Mrityur Mrityum NamamyAham!!"

This grace proved my height doesn't matter to win all the races in the world. I can still win where I don't have to show my face, my body. Yes, true enough I am not meant for any pageants but when it comes to write something damn it ,I am good at it. And this comes from someone considering my work on the praise of Narasimha.

I remember how I prayed to him before the last Narasimha Chaturdashi that fell on 30th April. Thankyou God, this smallest token that I received today meant a lot in uplifting my spirits and telling me to keep up doing my work silently.

The Silent Daru: Faith, Power, and the Walls We Build Around God!!

 Distance has a strange way of making bad news hurt even more. Sitting far away from my home state, my heart completely sank when I read a recent news headline: a Dalit woman was stopped from entering a temple by its priest.

A wave of pure anger rushed through me. Every part of me wanted to scream, “Is this really 2026? Are we still doing this?”

In the heat of that anger, some very blunt, harsh questions popped into my head. Why do Scheduled Caste (SC) and Scheduled Tribe (ST) communities even want to enter these temples? If a place insults your basic human dignity, why go there? Even scripture says to stay away from places that humiliate you. So, why not just walk away? Let the priests and their specific community have the temple to themselves. Let’s see how long they can run the grand show if the rest of society just stops showing up.

Of course, once I calmed down, a quieter, sadder thought took over. This isn't a new problem. These are the exact same priestly lines that once banned a King of Puri because he married a Muslim princess to save his kingdom. If they didn't even spare royalty, why do we expect them to treat ordinary people any better today? The priest of today is just following the age-old footsteps of the priests before him.

But then my logical mind goes even deeper. Take the beautiful legend of Patitapaban—the form of Lord Jagannath placed at the temple gate so that the people who were banned could still get a glimpse of Him. Was that truly a divine dream granted to the head priest? Or was it a clever political move by the King to keep the peace?

Money and power can do anything. It is hard to admit, but history shows that even the concept of God is often controlled by the powerful. Our folklore beautifully tells us how much Jagannath loved ordinary, marginalized devotees like Manika, Salabega, and Dasia Bauri. But folklore doesn't fund grand monuments. Without money and political power, you cannot build massive temples or carve giant statues.

This brings me to a deeper question about Jagannath himself. Long before He became the wooden idol (Daru) locked inside a massive temple, He was Nila Madhab—a simple deity worshipped by tribal people in the quiet secrecy of the forest. He wasn't trapped in stone or wood until the King and the priests took Him and rebuilt Him.

Today, grand rituals like Nabakalebara and the annual Ratha Yatra require cutting down hundreds of ancient trees every year. Is this environmental sacrifice truly what a loving, universal God wants? Or is it a grand show kept alive by those in power to maintain blind faith, ensuring no one asks questions and their own selfish interests are protected?

Asking these questions feels highly controversial. I usually avoid writing about things like this because I ask myself: What good will it actually do? But when I see such deep injustice happening in the name of faith, I cannot stop my mind from thinking otherwise.

We have to ask ourselves: are we actually worshipping God, or are we just worshipping the walls built to keep people out?