This book is part of 'Bricoleurs and Bricoleuses, a course at the School of Environment and Architecture where students learn to build a deep practice of thinking and making. 

Inhabitations 

Grid paper

I remember the order, this town exists&nbsp; The paan shop with its wooden benches&nbsp; The anklets at Thursday bazaar and the machi mandi&nbsp; The wall where old men sit and watch&nbsp; Chickens parading and children rolling the wheel Broken pipes through which water flows&nbsp; Ajjis veranda and her cups of tea&nbsp; This town exists and it has a secret&nbsp; I heard one man talk to another. It’s time to move The narrow lane that leads to no avenue of escape This town exists, a perpetual trap

Vijay Bhawan location Kummharpara landmark Behind Bajpai furnitures near Old Income Tax Office pin 494001 state Chattisgarh

Sneha mines through her father's diaries written between 1970s - 90s, to tell us the story of a migrant making home in the city. Gauri looks at how the market space is produced through everyday relationships, objects and transactional spaces. For her the market felt unorganized to begin with but on looking closely many details emerged. The bus stop, the electric boxes, in the market change into cupboards, drying tracks, stands to hang clothes. The elements like hanging wires/threads, people, flickering lamps work as spatial features. The space is built through the textures in the market, which gives it the intensities.

"din to boht badhiya tha, khud maza aaya aaj." "Aise kya kiya ki maze aagaye aapko?" "aaj to kaafi kahaniya sunai masterji ne, khel khele humne aur kuch vishayo ke paath bhi samjaye." I simultaneously corrected his hindi as he couldn't speak it fluently) The stairs that led me towards the bridge were made of stone and had a rough finish. We reached upstairs and saw people selling woollen clothes to people passing by. It was a 5 meter wide bridge where vendors&nbsp;laid a large cloth to exhibit their products. The products were arranged uniformly where everything was neatly stacked on one side. They divided one part to keep the products and the other part to exhibit their products. While selling they shouted loudly "imported maal hai khareed ligiye", This attracted people towards them. The products were made of pure wool with beautiful pictures on it. The stock had a myriad of varieties such as socks, coats, sweaters, sheets, covers, gloves all made up of wool. Commuting from the same route everyday sort of made me become friends with Tashi who met me daily. We spent time playing around, sitting, talking and sharing things about our culture and the places where we came from He took me to his father and his friends one afternoon introducing us. The crowd was less that day and we sat talking to each other. "kaha rehta hai beta tum?" "bas yahi pass me rehta hu mai, kariban 10 min ki doori par" "ischool me padhta hai tum?"

A window behind it had many photo frames and calendars hung on a rusting grill, which was obstructing the light from entering the space. “Yeh sab saman aap kaise arrange kar lete ho itna? Aap bohot time lag jata hoga?” I asked “Nai beta yeh mere ghar ke 3 aur admi aate hai yeh Gawaikwad bandhu galla no-33 hai yeh thoda andar ki taraf hai yaha gaddi bhi nai la sakte.” The market felt unorganised to begin with but looking closely so many details emerged.

Twilight started to turn to a deep blue darkness. Hawkers stood on every corner of the thoroughfare. Holding a wooden setup with a right hand she was standing near a passageway. The setup, which she was holding, worked&nbsp;as a display stand for rakhis. While she was standing; she used her upper body&nbsp;to hold a wooden stand. The lower part of the stand was stabilized by a huge rock “lelo lelo rakhi lo 10 ka ek 10 ka ek” she shouted.&nbsp;I asked “auntie char rakhi dijiye”. While she was taking down the rakhis from the display I asked “Auntie bhav kuch&nbsp;kam hoga kya”. “nahi beta fix bhav hai isme hum kam jada nahi karte” she replied. As she was removing the rakhis she put her left leg on the bottom part of a display stand so that the wooden setup would stand steady and not imbalance. After giving me rakhis, removing the huge rock from the bottom of the stand, she moved toward the cross road. The stand was quite big for her; she slowly picked up the wooden stand and began to move forward taking&nbsp;small baby steps. There was a big rush at the crossroad.&nbsp;The pavement was occupied by vendors; The street was completely filled with&nbsp;people who were buying things and also&nbsp;with&nbsp;people who were coming and going from work. The congestion of the traffic became a disaster. In the midst of this mess, hawkers were selling their stuff. Spreading a tarpaulin sheet on ground they together arranged their stalls, then further divided them and made&nbsp;in-between spaces.&nbsp;They arranged their stalls in such a way that they can have complete circular movement around it&nbsp;and to show their things . They not only used tarpaulin sheets but also some stands, tubs etc. and occupied a huge amount of space. Many of them&nbsp;simultaneously used a moving hath gadi to sell their stuff as they moved around the city.

Ganesh bhai shifted to Mumbai 20 years back from Gujarat where his father worked as a goldsmith. He is into design and making of imitation jewellery. This involves repairing, redesigning, rematching, existing designs and experimenting with it. He calls himself a ‘jholler’.&nbsp; “ Aap koi bhi aadhi ya tuta futa&nbsp;gehna le aao, uska matching mere bhandar mese niklega hi ya&nbsp;jhol jhal karke bana jaayega, khali haath nhi jaane dunga mein.” “ dar daginanu A to Z badhu kaam karu chhu hu. Chhela 5 waras ti to wedding orders pan leu chhu.” For the last 12 years he has been practicing through his dharan which is in the form of a table shop. He fits an entire world in that pitara of his, and it is like an organism which opens and closes almost as if it’s breathing. There are two to three pullout desks of different sizes, one of velvet, one bright white, one with a grid laid out, all for efficiently working with the level of intricacy.There are 4 drawers 2 tiny and 2 regular storing gems, pearls, hooks, thread, pouches and boxes, and a whole set of instruments. The top shelf has a glass front, which even works as a display for his designs.This table shop sits in the extension area of a jewellery shop with whom he collaborates. Any quick repairs needed for the shop, are sent to him for an instant fix and in return the shopkeeper gives his table shop security. He works/sits/sells there everyday from 9 am to 9 pm. Except Thursday which is his raja lewano diwas. "Rent kis hisab se lete hai ya..i?”&nbsp;&nbsp; “ bhaada to hum tile ke hisaab se dete hai ab jaise me 8 tile ka bhaada deta hu. aaa sq ft walo bhav na parwade amne.”

I had made my way&nbsp;from the flyover and stepped down to enter the promenade around the lake. The dense vegetation sandwiched between the Jogeshwari-Vikhroli link road and the lake promenade created a buffer from all the noise and traffic. While walking under the tree canopies and branches, I came across multiple couples sitting on the edge of the lake, under the shade of the trees, in tight embraces. I swiftly walked and tried to avoid any awkward eye contact with them.&nbsp; “Agar aap aise fishing karenge, toh police nahi pakadegi kya?” another woman, who was selling balloons asked ,”Humara toh raaj chalta hai yahan par, humein koi kuch nahi bolega.

She moved back to Ulhasnagar, leaving Jabalpur behind. She bought&nbsp;for herself a&nbsp;little place and built her own little house on it with the money she had saved from her import and export business and with the money her husband had saved for her. The house just consisted of one tiny room and a kitchen, but however small it was, it had, nevertheless, a mysterious property, it became at once very exciting and important. It was a comfortable room though the carpet was faded and the furniture was very plain. Instead of pictures hung on the wall she had hangers with clothes hung on them&nbsp; “Living alone then, taught me a lot, for I started doing things I earlier didn’t have time for at all.” That is when she started stitching, stitching little cloth pieces, which were scraps from the clothes that she had for business earlier,&nbsp;making something out of it and that became a source of earning money for her.&nbsp;The house doubled as&nbsp;a workshop for her..&nbsp;She sat near the balcony the whole day stitching and then went&nbsp;out in the evening and had her evening chai at Esha’s place, who used to live in the same colony as her. They were the best of friends, spending evenings together and also spending some afternoon stitching together.&nbsp;&nbsp;

Address: near mariyamman temple In detail? If someone asks just say kaaka muttai’s house Addresses that form inhabitations

How does one find a place?&nbsp; aage se left, phir dusra right (turn left, then second right) 23, Karnvati society, Behind Starline Cars, Nagalpur Highway, Mehsana 384002 Gujarat

The alarm goes off&nbsp; 9:12. Auto. Paper rings. Bandra. Walking. Bus stop. Aniston. Candies. Texture. Sandwich &amp; coffee. Lilies on the way. Andrews. Sky-blue cottage. Cross. Jogger’s park. Stone soil brick.&nbsp;

“My grandparent’s recurring absence has made her realize that I prefer relationships this way. I like to be alone, but I want to have the option of not being alone. So 2 years into the move, I decided to turn my bedroom into a mini garden.” Having plants as roommates that she developed deep bonds with, with whom she could speak her mind and be herself, helped her in coping and achieving some sense of normalcy.&nbsp; “I keep all my plants on the window ledge, hang them, plant them in fish bowls, plastic bottles, containers and mason jars, perched atop a layer of pebbles and soil. I continue to garden and add new plants all the time. During the past two years, I have added several plants. It helped me in my recovery after surgery during lockdown” “This is how I kept my treasures.The garden is my joy and therapy. It brings me joy beyond imagination to work in it. It keeps me connected to my grandparents and my farm.”

Walking on the long streets, completely mysterious on one side Lions, Cheetahs, Eagles have captured the shore.&nbsp; These are the names of the gates guarded by inspectors But on the other side, the public resides, and works.&nbsp;

Here I’m sitting on the ledge, which is wet but I’m tired, Wild gardens have taken over the stone buildings, inviting me in their cozy comfort DhaGe NaTi NaKe DhaDha | DhaGe NaTi NaKe DhaDha | A grand white building, beautiful in the overcast Mahesh was sketching a couple, his friend held an umbrella over him&nbsp; Still some raindrops were on her face, standing on the highest step It offered me a panoramic view,&nbsp; Curved buildings, big junctions, and sculptures.&nbsp; I was imagining Ram Kinkar Baij’ Santhal family sculpture in front of me.&nbsp;

A basket covered with crumpled paper was filled with edible items and a lamp suspended above it, tied between two wooden frames to the wall. Both the horizontal and vertical members were brought together by nailing and tying with a rope. Plastic crates were placed on it for extra storage. A charpai kept on the left with shubh labh written on it had a weighing machine above it.

“Why should people from Borivali travel to Ghatkopar ? people from Ghatkopar should come to Borivali” that was the prompt which made him think about this business. He collected references from his contacts in the diamond industry to start his new business.&nbsp; Why did you choose to collect this ? “it can be useful someday, you never know “&nbsp;

Why not anything else ? “i didn't really think about it, I didn't have the time “&nbsp; Why did we start linking hobbies or our trips and kicks to productivity and utility ?&nbsp;

The sun was up and so was everyone in the house. The freshly painted white walls, the colourful photo-frame of lord Krishna on the white wall and the white Italian marble flooring of their 2bhk apartment started to shimmer as the light poured in. The whole ‘theme’ of the small renovated house was brown and white with Pyramidal shapes in the plaster of Paris ceiling and wooden panels with profile lights; a glass chandelier at the centre of the living room, mirrors across the house to make the space look bigger than it was. Mornings and evenings were usually crowded, since everyone was home at the time. The helper had just arrived and started dusting the living room while the other two ran around the house getting ready to leave for work except Smita. She mostly occupied the white laminated furnished kitchen in the mornings. She would sit by the kitchen window ledge for some time, while the others occupied the bedroom to dress up. Even on the most hurried mornings, they made sure to have breakfast together, read something, discuss their schedules and then leave for work. The dark wooded foldable dining table by the hall window had become a meeting point for the three.

and making. The course explores the fluid relationships between art and architecture without categorizing them as such. The intention is to engage with the idea of a long duree practice, where the process is as engaging as the outcome. The course collapses the boundaries between art/architectural theory and studio, between reading, thinking and making. As we mine through treasure troves of ideas and works, the participants are encouraged to collect references that become their companions through the journey and to articulate one question around which they produce a work of art/architecture. Methodologically, the first step is to understand the self with its extended perimeter. From this perimeter, one has to locate a micro practice, that involves the working of an energetic self who has a trip and kick in life that produces a longue duree engagement. From here participants write short semi-fictional stories locating the contours of this practice, its geography, political economy and experiential dimensions. This micro practice is in Michel De Certeau’s words a tactical practice (DeCerteau, 1988), an enunciation that bypasses logics of capital, power and the measurable world. The stories are supported by drawing annotations that Roland Barthes calls ‘third meaning’ (Taussig, 2011). These stories are then gently teased into producing spatial interventions that appropriate the various scales of architecture from drawing, to object, to space, anything that can be inhabited and occupied both physically and mentally. &nbsp;

They went in five to ten feet, till they couldn't see the light. After two hours of swimming, they managed to get around three kilograms of fish. “Mahesh Bhaiyaa, apne talaab mein itna pani kahan se aata hai?” asked Suresh, the youngest of the three. “Humaare Gonda mein na, teen jagaon se pani aata hai, ek hai Rapti nadi, fir Ghaghara nadi aur Yamuna aur Ganga se aane wale chote nadiyan hai.Tum jo yeh machli kha rahe ho, woh sab inn nadiyon se aate hai''Mahesh told me his childhood story. The Powai Lake wasn't just a lake for him and his brothers but it became a reflection of their childhood practice.

“I am being pulled to stay there. So I sit. I try to distract myself. I go inside and do other things. I can’t concentrate. My mind drifts back to the garden.” She has also gotten into Zoom meetings, binged on Netflix and joined online happy hours. But as the weeks stretch into months, she seems to have less energy for those virtual encounters. Gardening, on the other hand, has overtaken her life. “I find myself just sitting looking at the plants in my garden for long stretches. I see a stem that needs trimming and do that. Then I look for more stems that need trimming. Then I check whether anything needs watering for the fourth time. At half-time I am out on the balcony. I am looking at plants for the 10th time today “ she said while talking to her plants.

“The memories created there took on more profound meaning than ever before. We held on to each other and to our constant — the farm. It pulled us in and made us feel safe when we were so scared we couldn’t think straight. it amplified the laughter. It kept bending and creasing “ So what is it that makes us mourn the loss of a structure? “It’s the loss of the vessel that held our memories.” The memories were suddenly immortalized.&nbsp; “I just had to build a new place to hold them” It was my ‘new home’

Source - Artwork by Refik Anadol

The data becomes the paint and the algorithm becomes the brush&nbsp; Can the building dream? Can the building have memories?

I shared a bench with Rahul, a 14 yr old boy&nbsp; On the back road&nbsp;of Sunder Nagar I was looking for a shortcut, crossing this Nagar To directly make my way to Causeway Rahul didn’t want to come as he liked sitting there on a bench Which was overlooking the sea He and his friends played football outside his aunt’s house Which was in the heart of the settlement Going in there as a stranger with an unfamiliar face I was a bit nervous because of my skin and the representation Although it wasn’t very explicit but I could sense the tension&nbsp; Which probably might only exist in my mind I suppose It was the labyrinthian character which got me, it was a seamless home With fuzzy demarcations between the inside and outside. I just kept walking behind my little friend Who roams in and around the place ten times a day, Jumping, hopping, peeping, gossiping, playing,&nbsp; Everytime he says, he takes a different path To distract my mind, I must keep talking to him about it.&nbsp; Some streets were too narrow, only one person at a time,&nbsp; Floor patterns kept changing with the light falling on them Pathways got darker as you went deep within the settlement,&nbsp; So was&nbsp;the fear of the unseen. Dha Ti Dha S, Ta Ti Ta S&nbsp;

"ji haa bas ab ghar ja raha hu. vaise tashi ne bataya aap kafi door se aaye ho, kaha hai ye jagah?" "hum to tibet se hai par rehta assam me hai, humari saath kuch aur log bhi rehta hai jo saath aai hai yaha, vo alag alag jagah bethke ye kaam karta hai" he even introduced a person beside him and said "ye mera dost hai Wang, Chin se aaye hai, hum yaha garam kapda bechne aai hai." "itni door se aap ye garam kapde bechne aaye ho? ye hindi bhasha kaise aai aapko?" aur aap ye garam kapde kaha se laate ho?" "Wang Chin se yaha leke aate hai uske kuch saathiyo ke saath aur hum unki madad karta hai ye bechne me, hindi to islie aata hai ki hum ye karobaar bahut saalo se karta hai,hum pehle Tibet me rehte the par kuch kaaran ke vajah se yaha aa gaye Bharat me. hamare pitaji pehle aate the yaha, jaise tashi aata hai mere saath vaisa hum bhi apne pitaji ke saath jata tha." "kya kaaran tha? aur kya aapka pura parivar yaha aagaya?" "hum to kaafi chota tha jab yaha aaya, zyade yaad nahi ki kya hua tha par ha sirf hamara parivaar nahi par hazaro log yaha aagaya tha." "Achhhaaaaa!!! to aap ye karobaar sirf yaha bombay me karte ho ki kahi aur bhi?" "sirf yaha bombay me bechte ho aap garam kapde ki kahi aur bhi?" "vaise hume jyada munafa bambay se hote hai par aur bhi kuch chote shehro me jata hai hum"

Close your eyes, and find the adventure you always wanted right between your skull. fight away the goblins, zombies harpier and phantoms you will find home over the next hill and the hope of heart will propel your feet forward.

1992 Name&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;office&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;fax&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;mobile&nbsp; Arvindbhai K Shah&nbsp;&nbsp;23645959&nbsp;26105414/5&nbsp;&nbsp;98203-39339 Ad. Anil Mehta&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;28827078 Ashok (BMC)&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;98212-17020 Anmol Dalal&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;26286558&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;98210-54435

Banaras&nbsp; Coimbatore&nbsp; Bangalore&nbsp; Hyderabad&nbsp; Delhi&nbsp; Kolkata&nbsp; Surat&nbsp; Jaipur&nbsp;

When there was enough money, experience, there was an opportunity to expand to a new business that seemed far off 30 years ago. The man didn't have a choice and had to get into a business to sustain himself and his family. The choice was finally there and he chose to open a saree store. He gave the store his best, Letterheads&nbsp; Envelopes&nbsp;&nbsp; Branded bags&nbsp; Professional photoshoots Catalogues&nbsp; Cable&nbsp;advertisements&nbsp;

Nikeita engages with her grandfather's diaries as a bricoleur, where the diaries become a map of his inhabitations that zoom in and out, sometimes recording the most intimate details. Her response is more of a layer of trying to understand and investigate the life of these diaries, piecing together scattered information through a reimagination of the same that gets built on the third layer of references and fragments of practices that come together as a method.&nbsp;The collapse of categories of information and its reading allows for different ways of seeing. The diaries become the person himself as an attempt to enter his inhabitations and thus his life by mapping the constellation of thoughts, memories, fears, repeated attempts, incomplete entries, absurd categories, all triggered by the fear of losing memory. Charmi tells the story of inhabitation as the practice of claiming a standard house to make it a workshop by a woman entrepreneur. In this practice she creates several transactional objects that aid in merging/ transforming a garish interior space into a work place Mohini looks at markets as a form of a daily performance, a theatre in the city. Body is an essential part of a space. The body has the ability of changing the nature of space by simply inhabiting it.&nbsp;Mohini studies the daily routines in the market through body postures and movements, to understand how space gets produced by people who are inhabiting it, where shops become extensions of the body. Devanshi traces how the city becomes home for its inhabitants.

A Work by Charmi Mehta / Devanshi Thakkar / Dhanvi Shah / Gauri Sonar / Jahnavi Naik / Khushboo Tejwani / Maitri Shah / Mohini Surve / Sharvri Raut / Nikieta Saraf / Preet Waghware / Prishita Kulkarni / Ria Shah / Rishabh Chhajer / Shubh Sankhla / Harshita Patel / Sneha Rathod in conversation with Rupali Gupte

Something unlikely happened last night. A person of interest would say it was due to sleep deprivation and unhandled stress. But I feel like it is a cause of something greater and larger, much beyond what it seems over the surface. To a conscious viewer, it was a blatant out roar of an ungrateful youth. It was a show of loud screams and deceiving hurl of abuses.&nbsp;

“Sometimes I drive down the sea link at night. Under its..

&nbsp;Her room was already messy with clothes hung to dry on the metal stand due to the rains but she didn’t mind the mess. She drew the curtains and switched on the lights since it was dark outside and started with the needle work. It took her some time to get a grasp on it after such a&nbsp;long time but she caught hold of it quite quickly.

By the time she got the hang of it, it was evening, she made tea for herself and sat on the sofa with her phone. As she scrolled through some profiles, she realised that people were advertising their products and honing their skills through social media. She even got to know many of her neighbourhood friends engaged in similar craft. The two of them were home from work, they all had dinner together and watched tv before going to bed.

The ladies from our neighbourhood sort of loved knowing details and keeping well narrated information about them for future references. They conversed for a while and went back to their respective houses. A few moments later all the females began preparing for lunch and the sounds of the spices getting crushed over a piece of stone, the whistles, talking to each other through connected otlaas&nbsp;and through their visual interaction, all began shaping the sensorium of the space through sound. They sat on their otlaas where they had wooden chulhas made up of soil and cow dung and for which they also went to collect pieces of wood. each part of the day was well versed with different activities happening here and in which their otlaas became an important spatial element.&nbsp; evenings usually were occupied with the tea party invitations and gathering at one place to sit and chit chat about the day and life. Everybody belonged to different castes and had different languages though majority of them were Gujaratis, shared their problems, happy moments, events and gossiped about people. I used to sit at a distance and hear all of them talking in hindi, marathi and gujarati with a touch of their mother tongue to it. The new bride had also been invited, since she didn't know everyone, everybody introduced themselves and told a few things about them. She introduced herself well when I came to know of her belonging to a place where despite of being a marathi speaker, could know many more south indian languages as their village happened to be at the border of maharashtra and karnataka.&nbsp; Getting familiar with everybody took time but her relation with my mother grew far better as she lived exactly opposite to my house within the distance of around 1-1.5 min from our otlaa to theirs. She started coming to my house to sit and talk, went to the market with my mother, and even went to collect wooden sticks at times. My mother helped her in cooking as she was quite young to have any experience in cooking meals for the whole family. i once overheard her counting money in a different language than in marathi.

My eyes glowed as I reached the port, the open sky took away my fear,&nbsp; A Journey I was dreading a minute ago became pleasurable I sat with Rahul on the edge…&nbsp; On the other edge, swamps were fermenting A network of fish traps Volleys of waste in the midst of a calm, We could see the monolith and the level after which water starts pouring into the city The port was almost empty as boats were deep in the waters for fishing,&nbsp; The big boats, cutters take usually 15 days to fill up the containers They carry with themselves a lot of ice to keep the fish fresh He comes here often, he wants to own a big boat and catch fish soon But he also dreams of playing football in ISL, he might as well do both he says Or else he says, he shall make a small ground in his big boat,&nbsp; Where he and his friends will fish and play together We walked but on&nbsp; a different path now, he accompanied me till the Causeway He went back to Indumati Sakrikar Marg where he lives Dhi Tak Ta Ta | Ti Tak Ta Ta |

"nimma hesarenu?" "ek minta, hi konti bhasha bolle tumhi?" "kannad" "acha, aajun ek, maze nav ramesh aahe." "nanna hessor ramesh" and i kept asking her to translate a few more sentences to which she asked me, "tula navin bhasa shikanyachi avad aahe ka?&nbsp; "hoy mala bhasa shikane khup avadate" "thik aahe, tula shikayache asel tar mi tula shikavu shakate, bol kai mahnto?" "wah, te kharokhar chhan aahe. mala tumachyakadun ya bhasa shikayala khup avadatil." And then every afternoon after she completed all of her household chores, we sat on the same otlaa and she taught me these languages which were quite very useful for building my skillful vocabulary.

Every day, three fisherwomen walk on the street across Shanta Niwas to sell fish. We get bangda, surmai or paplet on Wednesdays and Fridays. As I gently rub some chili powder, turmeric, salt, and tamarind over the fish skin, I start hearing the crackling sound produced by aai’s gold bangles while cleaning the fish. I don't exactly remember how she cooked the fish, maybe because the spicy and sour taste of the bangda curry overpowered my senses. I tried to recollect the way she made it. She must have used some&nbsp;coconut, garam masala, khada masala coconut vatap and the masalas that seeped in perfectly through the crisp skin of the fried fish. My husband liked it so much that every Wednesday and Friday we had guests over.

I feel an emptiness, I am walking on a monsoon night,&nbsp; Buildings’ skins have become black as if the soot has taken over them,&nbsp; Soot from the heat of the summer, which was cooled by rains, I will go through the nooks and corners,&nbsp; Through the overgrown path,&nbsp; Through the algae filled steps, in the soft scented air,&nbsp; I will feel the new grass cool and sharp on my calves, I will let the breeze takeaway the dripping sweat from my face, DhaDhin DhaDha DhaTi DhiNa | DhaTi TaTa DhaTi DhiNa |

Ashok Gadhia, a software engineer who is in his mid 50s comes from a Kutchi Gujarati household where his baap dada were all unschooled, yet self-made businessmen. “Mere ghar me kisi ne dasvi baarvi se jyada padhai nahi ki thi, isiliye muje achhese padhaya gharwalo ne. Par khoon me to mere bhi dhanda karna hi tha! Kayak potanu kaam chalu karwanu mane hameshani ichha hati.” Ashokji left his 20 year old job to finally do something of his own. using his previous work experience he started fixing and repairing watches, mobiles, chargers, computers and all kinds of small electronic gadgets. “Khan khod karwu to bau game mane. Pehle jab bluetooth headphones itne common nhi the tabhi mene ek baar sadharan earphone me bluetooth add kiya tha, pendrive me bhi bluetooth add kiya tha aur apni gaadi ke music system me bhi bluetooth add karne ka try kiya tha.” He shifted his green study, which has a shelf at the top. a drawer and a cupboard at the bottom right, from his home to the extension area of the estate agent’s shop/office.&nbsp; He paid a&nbsp; 6-tile rent. He modified the study by puncturing the back to fit a 8 plug extension cable.&nbsp; He also added a pullout desk on the left bottom with 2 inch pattis on the sides to prevent&nbsp; his convex glass, LEDs ,USBs chips and other instruments from falling over. He added four lockable wheels below the study for its efficient mobility and finally a shutter plank hinged to the top of the study, acting as name board from his shop when it was open. “Dhanda chalta hai teen chizose talent, sambandh vyavahar aur bharose se. Ane aiya to badha aapdach odkhita janita chhe. Sachu kau to have hu aaram thi dukaan bhada par layi saku chhu pan aavi vaat chit ane interaction band dukaan ma na thaay. “

"Acha, fir to aapko apni bhasha bhi aati hogi na?" "ha ha, aate hai, tumhe sikhna hai?" "ha bilkul, mujhe bahut ruchi hai alag alag bhashayein sikhne me." "to aajao kalse caapi aur kalam leke, hum sikhayega tumko tibet aur chin bhasha." "zaroor, aur mai aapko hindi me sudhar liya karunga." I giggled and winked at him, we all laughed. Since then, everyday while going back home through that bridge i used to spend time learning those languages from him and his son and spent some quality time with them knowing more about them.&nbsp; "Chalo, aaj chalta hu mai, ghar jaldi poochna hai." "Kyu, aaj kya hai aisa, roj to mere saath khelta hai tum, aaj jaldi kyu jana hai?" asked Tashi to which i replied, "Hume aaj humare ek padosi ki shadi me jana hai, chalo agar tum aana chaho to." "Nahi nahi, tum jao, hum kal milega."&nbsp; "Thik hai, bye."

He has spent last 3-4 years practicing stunts in Bandra&nbsp; There is an immense pleasure in the sound of the accelerator&nbsp; He took part in motor racing all the time, stood victorious A lot of times, police tried to impound his bike,&nbsp; He particularly enjoyed being chased They could never catch him He knows a lot about bikes Now he is getting to know uber bikes&nbsp; To be continued...

Acha didi, yeh dekho, yeh na meri dost ka ghar hai, uska naam Ameera hai. Uske abbu bhi riksha chalate hain and uski ammi mere ghar ke bahar aakar meri ammi ke saath woh chudiyon ka kaam karti hain. Jab woh aati hai na tab Ameera aur main unke aaspaas, humare ghar ke aage hi khelte hai, aur kai baar toh unhe madat bhi karte hain. Hum dono ko sajna bohot pasand hai, toh ammi ne ek baar bola tha ki hum jo unki madat karenge toh humein bhi rang ki chudiya aur khilaune la denge, tabse humein karna acha lagne laga hai. Aapko pata hai, Ameera ki ammi ko na ghar ke andar baith ke kaam karna bilkul nahi pasand, woh kehte hain unhe ghutan si hoti hi, bahar aate jaate sabse baat hoti hai, tabse woh aur meri ammi sirf bahut tez barish aur dhoop mein hi andar baithte hai. Unhe na waqt ka bhi pata aise hi chalta hai. 2 baje main school se aati hu, fir madarsa 4 baje tak, tab tak woh aunty jinse baat nahi karni woh bhi aa jaate hai, fir hum baalwadi mein jaa ke thodi si padhai karte hai, aur shaam ko toh abbu aa jaate hai woh chudiyo ki bag le jaane ko kaku ke yaha. Aapne baalwadi dekhi ?&nbsp;&nbsp; Abhi tak nahi dedkhi! Kushraah, dikhaogi mujhe tumhari baalwadi?&nbsp;

And before I could realise, I was being happily led to the baalwadi in the next lane, and within seconds there I was, seeing a room full of kids of all ages, mostly happily listening and obeying their teacher’s instructions.&nbsp;

Kaku, yeh na didi woh Rohan bhaiya ke saath aaye hai, unke college ki padhai ke liye sab samajna hai unhe. Aap batao na kaku inhe main kitna achese padhti hu aapke saath aur&nbsp;pichle exam mein na ache marks aaye the mere. Didi, aapko pata hai, yahan na sab gali ke bache aate hai, aisa kuch nahi hai ki jo madrasa mein jaate hain woh nahi aate yaha.

A specific Sunday when we were guests at her place&nbsp;. Details of the morning are unclear but she had prepared mutton for lunch . It was as if&nbsp;I had never tasted mutton . Laddi pav and mutton rassa, rice with mutton rassa and lots of mutton pieces . Before even dipping the pav in the rassa I finished all the pieces. They were chewy but still soft. Perfectly marinated . But how do you even marinate it? I asked myself . I asked for more pieces she kept on bringing more in my broad steel vatti . I went into the kitchen , opened the red onida fridge. I remember seeing a coconut shell and a dried one .I always wondered what she did with it . My vision shifted to the rack behind the fridge . I remember seeing a transparent glass bottle.She told me it was vinegar and how she added this to the recipe this time .While leaving to go back&nbsp;home, she told me how the next time she would have to order 2kg of mutton instead of 1 because I ate 1 by myself.

When the scorching bright rays of the sun hit the red chilies that I kept to dry on the terrace, I knew I had to go sit on the balcony. It overlooked the main street, where I could&nbsp;see some vehicles and people walking, and also those huge rich airplanes landing and taking off. But these afternoons soon transitioned into me feeding my two daughters, Swati and Nima bangda curry and kadi bhaat.&nbsp;Branches of the neem tree, which peeped into the balcony, were now used for making kadhas.&nbsp; As the sun was about to set, I accompanied Swati and Nima to the park. They&nbsp;sat on the swings, slipped through the slides, and interacted with other kids. I sat on the bench nearby and looked at them from a distance. The gentle breeze started hitting my face. Just before I could get lost in my thoughts, a voice from behind said ‘ Are those your girls, look at them playing with my son’. I turned around and smiled ‘ I am Pushpa’ I said. As days passed this voice&nbsp;Kalpana’s was not the only familiar one, Viju became a friend too. Our conversations were mostly about home, duties, what to cook and how to cook.

The value of a man was reduced to his immediate identity and nearest possibility. To a vote. To a number. To a thing. Never was a man treated as a mind. As a glorious thing made up of stardust. In every field, in studies, in streets, in politics, and in dying and living.

B2 floor Vijay Apartment CIT Colony 1st cross street Mylapore Chennai-600004 

Hindustan Unilever Limited Doomdooma Officer Housing Assam - 786152

H-104 The Edge Towers Ramprastha City Sector 37 D Gurgaon-122001

Mahesh chooses different spots everyday&nbsp; It depends upon the occasion and his mood.&nbsp; He wishes to go to other parts of the city, but is too old to travel everyday He used to go on to different beaches and forts in his life,&nbsp; If he didn’t find customers he would sketch his wife, she accompanied him every time He should have at least a hundred of her portraits, which after her demise he reminisces The front was crowded with the right amount of people, dancing, gossiping,&nbsp; Having sweets and savouries for it was 15th August I was chiming in electrically with conversations&nbsp; DhaGe NaTi NaKe DhaDha | DhaGe NaTi NaKe DhaDha |

Fresh chunks of mutton on every sunday For the vatap 8am - 1pm - grating large pieces of coconut&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Using the goan villi brought in summer &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Adding red chilli, ginger garlic, garam masala &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Mixing it with coconut and water&nbsp; For the broth- adding&nbsp;coconut milk &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Marinated chunks of&nbsp;Mutton&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Goda masala, tamal patra, dhana jeera powder&nbsp; As the broth boiled, her two daughters, Swati and Nima came running to the kitchen. They stood beside her and got on their heels to look at the brown , boiling mutton broth. She served them a few pieces in the same broad steel vatti. The masala had not fully seeped into the chunks of mutton but still, her daughters seemed to enjoy it.

The retired human resources manager sits on a folding chair and gazes around in contemplation, surrounded by shade trees and chirping birds.&nbsp; "Even if I'm just watering a plant or trimming a bush, it just gets me in touch with nature, and I try to listen to what nature's trying to tell me that morning,"&nbsp; Four years ago, Rajesh was introduced to "horticultural therapy" while in treatment at a mental health center in Pune. He turned a barren patch of land into a green meadow. The meadow is filled with every kind of flower—yellow and white daisies, blue cornflowers, orange and red jasmine, pink and white wild orchids. This meadow is filled with abundant life!

The day began with the sound of trickling water coming from a distance, a tap ran through at a public space in the chawl where people came and filled their water resource for a day through earthen pots and steel containers. I and 2 brothers of mine too woke up every single morning for the same. The sound of washing clothes, the collisions of the vessels, children splashing and playing with water, sort of filled this space with various sound intensities right at the beginning of the day. each house consisted of a huge space in front usually called as 'otlaas' which was inhabited for various purposes such as cooking food, gathering, playing games, washings clothes and utensils, bathing etc. the water accumulated in that space was then further collected in a bucket and thrown at the main common gutter for the whole chawl as the water outlet or the gutters were not provided for each house. The marriage procession had just ended yesterday and everyone was excited to see the new bride. all the females made a group and went on to their house as a family to meet the new bride. She was beautifully dressed in a pink nauvari saree with gold ornaments going well with it. my mother being one of the group member asked her, "kashi aahes tu? changala aaram vagere ghetalis ka? "ho mi bari aahe, mala kharanch khup bara vatla ki tumi lok mala bhetayla ale." "aga, he tar aamchi vidhi aahe. aamhi pratyek navin vadhu aali ki tyala ekmekan barobar bhetayala jato,"&nbsp; "bara." "maher kothe tuze? and kiti laamb rahte tuje aai baba ithun?" "mi agadi lahan khedyatil aahe, jyache naav belgaum aahe."

Arey did you see the library at the end of the ghats? A tiny blue door&nbsp; Next to the banyan tree

16th January 2020. Narmada Ghats. Stop. Watch your step. 7th gali. Cows and goats. Derasar. Cool flooring. Dark. Concrete and brick two storeys. Samosa at the corner. Rs 5.

2D Tirupati Enclave Dhekia&nbsp; Malancha Road Landmark - Opposite Mata Mandir Kharagpur - 721304 Midnapore district&nbsp; West Bengal

Next day she called her friends who worked with crochet designs and talked about conducting workshops together for interested people. They drafted a message on WhatsApp and forwarded it to all the groups, many of them showed interest. They decided to start it later in the afternoon since the house would be empty then. She got portable boxes to store her stuff for more easy accessibility and stocked it by the sofa side and in the window ledge drawers. 8 people joined the workshop, they sat on the sofa, ledge and even on the floor since sitting space was limited. They placed their stuff in front of them, on their lap and kept the rest of the materials in the boxes. Once they finished with the work, they set up all the boxes by the sofa for the next day.

Smita thought of making customised folding furniture for her workshop but it did not meet the budget hence the idea of portable boxes was retained for the time being. Sometimes when her storage was full, she would keep her stuff on/below the cupboards and sometimes even beneath her sofa. In the afternoon, her living room would become a mess, but she would clear it out by evening when everyone would come home from work. She now had many social media handles, held numerous workshops and made a lot of friends in the community.

Humse woh BMC wale paise bhi nahi lenge, unko lagta hai hamare paas kuch nahi hai dene ke liye” Just as I kept looking at the water, a fisherman named Rajiv shouted from the other side “Suresh woh net mat use kar, woh samne, club wale logon ko pata chalega, fishing rope use kar jaldi jaldi”. I turned towards Rajiv to ask him about the club “Kaunsi club ke baare mein baat kar rahe hai? Kahan hai yeh club?” “Woh toh samne, sab jhad ke piche, ek club hai, wahan pe sab BMC ke members fishing karte hai” “Woh club, BMC walon se membership ke paise lete hai, fir yeh log apna net lekar machlii pakadte hai aur bazaar mein bechte hai.” Rajiv said as he wrapped the fish he caught in his bag. “Bhaiya mujhe yeh nahi samajhta, ki aap carpenter hai, toh shauk ke liey&nbsp;machli kyun pakdte hai, aapka aur koi shauk nahi hai kya ?” I asked “Aisi baat hai, ki hum yeh 10 saal se kar rahe hai, abhi lat lag gayi hai toh yahi karte hai” The fishes had made their homes in the garbage thrown in the lake. “Gutter se zyada kachra toh log yaha pe faik kar jaate hai''. The fishermen would gather in large groups the moment they closed the mouth of the storm water gutter because it would give them large quantities of fish. “Yahan paani mein itna kachra hai, toh aap yehi se kyun lete hai?”, I asked as I saw one man throw a plastic wrapper in the water. Rajiv intervened “Ganda pani har jagah pe hota hai, iska ye matlab nahi ki machli pakadna hi chhod de”.

I had never seen the Gateway of India from this angle,&nbsp; To be honest I have come here for the first time,&nbsp; It hides behind the Baroque City DhaGe NaTi NaKe DhaDha | DhaGe NaTi NaKe DhaDha | The market was folding itself up, laariwales were resting after the day Rajesh found joy in looking at sailors and the way lascars arranged themselves It was a city of boats, a lot of commotion which ran families How she floats everywhere, some dread her, some she dreads She is not really strange but she is unfathomable.&nbsp; Rajesh Mondal has come&nbsp;from West bengal to find work here, He floats his laari inside the docks, he has made some friends with the fishermen boats And likes to go with them in the depths of the sea, not to catch fish but to just go&nbsp; He jokes of taking his laari into the sea as he can also give it a headstart&nbsp; By taking a run up across the Sassoon Docks Dhi Tak Ta Ta | Ti Tak Ta Ta |

Before the lockdown Altaaf sold his dholaks along the lake, as it was always busy there But life has changed during the pandemic, people prefer to walk in their neighbourhoods now. They have produced their corners and escapes. Hence Altaaf now roams in and outside Hiranandani Meadows. He hops from one threshold to another as watchmen don’t let him wander near the shiny stores and apartments. Late in the afternoon, he meets his friends in Vasant Vihar where they have lunch outside the public plaza. Mohd Shafi who has spent most of his life in Saudi Arabia brings all of them in his rickshaw from Dahisar, hoping to get a return bhada. &nbsp; Dhi Tak Ta Ta | Ti Tak Ta Ta | To tell you the truth I have known for a long time that&nbsp; Akbar Ali Shah loves riding bikes since he was a child&nbsp; He learnt riding when he was 15&nbsp; He was doing stunts by the time he got his license Once he drove his way at a breakneck speed into the settlement&nbsp; to collect the rent, I still remember all the dirt splashed over me. Altaaf grew pale as Akbar came in with his broad shoulders,&nbsp; Shooting loud words in a funny way…&nbsp; I’m not complaining! I say what I have to,&nbsp;&nbsp; I feel an immense amount of sadness for some reason…&nbsp; DhaGe NaTi NaKe DhaDha | DhaGe NaTi NaKe DhaDha |

“Koi machli mili kya”&nbsp; I asked a group of fishermen who sat on an inclined surface, which supported the mouth of the storm water gutter that opened into the lake of Powai. It was around 5 PM. The lake promenade was filled with a pleasant light. A fisherman stepped forward to show me his net filled with fishes, who were jumping to hold onto their lives. “Itne mein hoga kya? Pure family ke liye” I asked, “Madamji, yeh teen machli toh mein khud ek din main khatam kar doon”, he said with a smile, almost sounding surprised by my question. The lake promenade widened at this very spot, leaving me some space to walk around, stand or to sit and think under the dense foliage of trees.

Or maybe I don’t know it at all! To smell the smell of damp wood, growing weeds, wet leather, salty skin, the heaviness to be repaired after the rain, to redress the skeleton.&nbsp; DhaGe NaTi NaKe DhaDha | DhaGe NaTi NaKe DhaDha |

Anxiety - a state of feeling nervous or worried that something bad is going to happen Hallucinate - The verb to see or hear things that are not there due to illness or drugs. Hallucination (bhaas) - The fact of seeming to see or hear something that is not here because of illness or drugs.&nbsp; Dementia -

Rooms of our house became repositories of unspoken, unpleasant thoughts

A few&nbsp; cars, murmuring from the crowd, the sun showed up before setting People with their thick furred dogs were chit chatting,&nbsp; The sun didn’t bother anyone, it was pleasant,&nbsp; No engines, no horns, sound of the splashing sea, cawing of crows Chirping birds, I thought those two little girls were waving at me,&nbsp; It felt fresh and warm.&nbsp; DhaGe NaTi NaKe DhaDha | DhaGe NaTi NaKe DhaDha |

Main na kholi ke bahar hi baithti hu poora time, acha lagta hai. Ab itni se jagah mein kya karungi akele. Yeh logo ko main zyada pasand nahi, par yaha ki woh bakri hai na ramesh ki, phir woh murga bhi hai uske do, mera robinhood, inke saath khelti hai poora din. Inke saath hi zyada baat karti hai. Memsaab ne kabhi saari diya apna fall beeding karne ko toh woh bhi idhar hi darwaaze pe baith ke karti hai. Main na yeh log ka azaan bolti nahi, par samajhta hai, toh woh bajta hai na shaam ko 5 baje tab ekdum se shaant ko ke dhyaan bhi karti hai main. Yaha pe kisi ko bhi pucho, poora yeh chaal hi apna ghar hai, kholi ke andar kya bahar kya, sab sareekha hi hai, sab apne hi log hai.&nbsp; Chalo main aapko madarsa dikhati hu..&nbsp;

As I bend down to untie my shoelace to step in the madrasa, masterji gave me a tough look and said, “Betaji tum yahi se kyu nahi dekh lete!” That felt more like a warning to not go beyond the threshold of the madrasa where I was standing.&nbsp; I see a little girl eagerly running towards me…&nbsp; Didi, main batau? Mera naam Kushraah hai. Main yeh madrasa mein padhne aati hu roz. Main na yahi gali ke dusre ghar mein rehti hu. Mere abbu ricksha chalate hai aur ammi, uuh woh haath mein kya pehente hai, haa chudi banati hai, chudi pe woh moti chipkati hai. Abbu woh apni ricksha se kaku ke dukaan pe de aate hai roz shaam ko. Apne humara ghar dekha? Yahi hai, chalo na, aap mummy ka kaam bhi dekhna, mast hai. Without hesitating for another second, she held my hand and pulled me all the way to her home, while showing me all her friends’ homes along the street.

Kaku sabko padhate hai pachvii tak aur uske baad bhi sabko yahi aake ke school ka homework aur padhai karna acha lagta hai.&nbsp; “Aapka naam kya hai beta?” asked a stern voice, and I instinctively answered “Teacher, mera naam Devanshi hai”, and “teacher nai kaku hi bulate hai sab yaha” came the reply.&nbsp; And just about a week later….

“Arrey Devanshi? Beta tum wahi ho na jo woh din basti aaye the Rohan ke saath?” And there was Kaku, in the market, although just a few feet away but almost happily screaming. Before I could respond verbally, just on seeing me turn towards her, she immediately crossed the road, “Zhala ka tujha college-cha abhyaas aani project? Rohan kasa aahe? Tya divsa paasun aala nahi toh”.&nbsp;&nbsp; I couldn’t help but hug her saying, “haanji Kaku, meech ti Devanshi, aani chaaltay collegecha kaam hadu hadu. Rohan to aaplya mitra sobat Nashikla gela kahi video shoot karaayla. Tumhi saanga na, tumhi kashe aahaat? Ithe baajaar karaayla aale ka? Aani Kushraah kashi aahe? Baalwadi kashi chaalte? ” Without hesitation came her reply, “Arreyy mi fakta aathavdyaat ekda kadhi yete ithe, kaahi aavadla kiva aathavla tar ghete pan nakki asa kaay ghyaala naahi aani asach bara vatta na teethun baaher nighun ashi market firun. Nehmi gharat aani baalwadit basunahi kantada yeto na. Tula saangu ek? Tya divshi saangaycha raahila, mi na aata chaar varshapaasunach he musalmaan mulanna shikwaayla laagli, tyaachyaa aadi majhya navraayla aavdaycha naahi.”

And we stood there for long talking about her and the baalwadi’s struggle to become the open classroom it is today.&nbsp;

What does he plant who plants a tree? &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;He plants a friend of sun and sky; He plants the flag of breezes free; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The shaft of beauty, towering high; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;He plants a home to heaven anigh; &nbsp;For song and mother-croon of bird &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;In hushed and happy twilight heard &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The treble of heaven's harmony These things he plants who plants a tree.

- Henry Cuyler Bunner (The Heart of the Tree)

Where is Akbar now? I don’t hear his loud brags anymore,&nbsp; He is extending services as a professional bike driver,&nbsp; But he wanted to become one na?&nbsp; A rider not a driver! Nevertheless he still gets to ride a bike all day He drove his way past the traffic, over the bridges Speed depends upon the client he drops,&nbsp; He recognizes it with the way one takes the seat&nbsp; I was awestruck, he drove that swift Leaning in a streamlined posture, maintaining a perfect balance The Wind pressure was high, made me vulnerable to a fall I had my sunglasses on, for they made my ride a pleasure To cover a distance of twenty five kilometers in twenty five minutes Was a crazy feat amidst the traffic.&nbsp;&nbsp; DhaDhin NaTete TaTin NaTete | DhaDhin NaTete TaTin NaTete |

It is partly this passion for collecting plants like stamps, magnets, people in the grip of addiction admit that it is hard to resist.&nbsp;'Oh well, I haven't got that one, so I suppose I'd better have it.' And then the inevitable cry goes up&nbsp;'Where am I going to put it? There's no room in my garden' Ah, but it goes. They have joined a plant addict community group. Friends with plant addiction, neighbourhood nursery managers, gardeners are all part of this group. The nursery managers and workers facilitate seeds, pots, manure and baskets for the members. Besides, members also share their plants and seeds among each other and recommend a few places where one can get a variety of seeds and manure. It is comforting to see, however, that among keen gardeners there are those who grow out of collecting and are content to see plants they might once have coveted now growing happily in other people's gardens.

Let me set my location to Mahim,&nbsp; People in this part of the city ask to go very short distances After Mahim I can get long distance rides,&nbsp; I hope she is softer on me this time,&nbsp; I hope tourists come back I hope they don’t see us as swarms of virus I hope I get to ride long without any obligatory destination&nbsp; I wish to travel the world on this bike, sb jgh jaaneka hai merko

To stand on the platform and wait for the train to pass, to feel the gush. I will not utter a word, I don’t want to think a thing,&nbsp; But an incredible amount of love will set in.&nbsp; I sat on the cool metallic dotted floor of the train,&nbsp; Just sinking in the city that I saw,&nbsp; In that moment, the time seemed to slow down And I wandered far like a vagabond,&nbsp; Reminding me of a trap, happy as if I was a rat. Dha Ti Dha S, Ta Ti Ta S&nbsp;

1984&nbsp; BHANU P SHAH&nbsp; 501/A,&nbsp; Nirmal Sagar Apt Devidas Lane of S.V. Patel Road&nbsp; Borivali (W) BOMBAY-400 103

A 34 year old chair that looms over the corner of the house, accompanied by an empty desk that once used to be occupied. Over the desk lies cabinets that have memories older than the home it resides in.&nbsp;The texts of faith and fear. The documents that resonated with tough times and the documents that resonated with the good days.

Various telephone directories that connected everyone before the internet. Journals were kept that listed personal and professional landline numbers . Everything was kept neatly organised including income tax papers dating back from the 1970s, insurance papers , documents from organisations he works at such as the temple and school .

&nbsp;&nbsp;Rs. &nbsp; 23,764.00 I.e &nbsp; : Rs. &nbsp; 23,760.00 Income Tax. : Rs.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; 2891.00 ADV.TAX PAID : Rs.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; 3045.00 Refundable : Rs.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; 154.00

Giddiness is more. Head is heavier. Felt fresh after taking the medicine. I went to the bank alone. I went for a walk alone.

Bricoleuses/Bricoleurs: Bricolage as Method Allied Design Course Conductor: Rupali Gupte, 2021 In the ‘The Savage Mind’, Claude Levi Strauss uses the word bricolage to describe characteristic patterns of mythological thought. He compares the working of the engineer and the bricoleur. The Bricoleur who is the “savage mind” works with their hands in devious ways, puts preexisting things together in new ways, and makes do with whatever is at hand. As opposed to the bricoleur is the engineer, who is the ‘scientific mind’, the true craftsperson who deals with projects in their entirety, considering the availability of materials, and creating new tools. Levi Strauss argues that mythology works more like the Bricoleur whereas modern western rationality works more like the engineer. He suggests that the engineer creates a totalising system, which has a degree of permanence whereas the Bricoleur is more spontaneous and creates fragmented, more temporal, impermanent systems. In this studio, we draw on the imaginary of the Bricoleuse/Bricoleur to build the contours of a deep practice that engages in reading, acquaintance with works of art and architecture and making. Five groups explore five tropes through which they engage with the idea of the Bricoleuse/Bricoleur. We explore different figures who embody the qualities of the Bricoleuse/Bricoleur and corresponding modes of thinking

Source - Artwork by Refik Anadol

Communicate beyond words. Tap into a moment of clarity that captures a feeling, try to put that feeling inside others, and affects the perspective of another person. We are also beginning to more actively influence and massage the results of the artwork we create with our learning algorithms—changing the relationship with&nbsp;humans as an ideation partner, rather than simply a tool for making new tools. The entire aim is to capture the essence of the art, even if it's not touched or felt by hands, but captured by the eyes of the viewers. One might generalize that the technique of reproduction detaches the object of production from its domain tradition. Here the space gets crafted with these layers of informative images that I've read, crypted and projected on a surface. There is this transitional space between the human world and the digital realm that I bring forward into reality creating an alternative. &nbsp;We learn from the outputs and memories of these images, we can create an alternative reality by looking at the patterns of the trees, buildings , birds,&nbsp;people etc everything that is hidden inside the image data and creating an hallucinative output .

Following are some of the tropes of the Bricoleuse/Bricoleur explored: &nbsp; 1.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Quilt-maker: Repair In 1960s China, during the cultural revolution, while the country was being cleansed of all preexisting art forms and embarking on a new world, a group of Chinese women were making textile paintings from scraps of shoe soles, pieces of cloth from shirt collars etc to gift to each other. Ge-ba is literally Textile Paintings. They were re-pairing material not to mend existing things but to mend the social life that was disrupted through the violence of modernity. While acquainting ourselves with works such as this and a collection of readings around the art and philosophy of repair, we build a series of works which contribute to Repair as practice. 2.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Pack rat: Lists Pack rats are large bushy tailed rodents. But the term is generally used to describe people who collect things indiscriminately. Mobilising the metaphor of the pack rat, this group mines texts and works around the idea of indiscriminate collections. In his book ‘Infinity of lists, an illustrated essay’ Umberto Eco (2009) takes us through lists from the pragmatic to the poetic from Homer to Salvador Dali and from James Joyce to Ravel’s Bolera. As Pack rats we look at the definitions and philosophical underpinnings of lists, their obsession, excesses as we wade through several works in art and architecture on the idea of lists.

Dr. Babasaheb Ambedkar Market, seemed like an endless street from outside A long tunnel who knows what it opened into, Small houses with one common Sulabh Shauchalaya, I had to wait in queue to access a toilet Again I was feeling like a foreigner, out of the place,&nbsp; But so I was.&nbsp; Rajesh called me, he wanted me to come with him to the docks next morning I had to leave for home, I promised to see him again when I returned

Walking along the large monuments like World Trade Centre&nbsp; I didn’t realise I had landed on the other side of the coast,&nbsp; All I was seeing was different forms of nests, some sprawled, some rose higher They were dense but the ones which ate up the horizon were suffocating I don’t wish to nest in any of them anytime soon

As Swati and Nima grew up, my afternoons became about learning embroidery&nbsp;at Tilak mandir. While&nbsp;Stitching strings of wool together, I became familiar with another voice, Jyoti’s. Jyoti and her sister Meena became regular guests at Shanta Niwas. We tried different recipes from the Diwali ank together, made jams and all sorts of market-based products, learnt soapmaking and velvet flowers.&nbsp; These familiarities started&nbsp;growing as the trees around Shanta Niwas got replaced by Chunks of&nbsp;mass. It reminded me of that time when we had to let go of the Karmali house for a five-storeyed pink building&nbsp;which blurred the difference between goa and Mumbai for me. The angaan where red chillies, pappad, vadi bathed in the sun , now became a home for a couple,the Zendee's . The kitchen window from where I could see the airplanes taking off , now faced another small window through which I met Prachi chi aai . As I poured some toop on the hot pan and roasted my chapatis over it, Prachi chi aai came to the window and asked ‘ aj kay Banta aahe ‘. Every time I pour toop , I get transported to Belgaum.Bajuchi kaki made chapatis in the same way. The way the toop lingered over the soft edges of the chapati makes me feel like aai is around, even when she is not.&nbsp;

He had sailed into fearless rivers&nbsp; Hooghly was his escape&nbsp; He no longer felt controlled by his brothers He wished to walk on the seamless sea&nbsp; What’s on the other side? What’s in between? Is a mystery everyone wants to unfold&nbsp; His family and tradition says, “It’s a sin to cross the sea” I was indifferent to all who were working, The bearer of fragrance and ripped jeans He casted his vote to BJP and not TMC&nbsp; My laari might be a bit heavy but I guess it will work I will have to make it light as a cork I might even want to use my brother’s laari,&nbsp; Two will counter to keep the float effortless&nbsp; DhaGe NaTi NaKe DhaDha | DhaGe NaTi NaKe DhaDha |

No one can touch it&nbsp; No one can see it&nbsp; No one is complaining

A shelf that is ingrained in a manner that can encapsulate everything, away from people, and where the memories and documentation can just be.

No one can question&nbsp; No one can meddle&nbsp;

“In a city your contacts are your business"

Cities are composites of small forces of energetic selves. Energetic self here is the dimension of the self that drives one to undertake activities connected to one’s desires. These could include collecting strange objects, achieving mundane targets, opposing new ideas, trying to walk across five countries, behaving like a spy, making antennae to listen to strange sound waves, counting every tree, tracking obscure data, making strange gardens, occupying obscure spaces etc. Energetic selves also express themselves in everyday friendships and compassions. These practices go beyond the acts of routine and are considered unproductive in generating grand conceptualizations of cities. They remain small and are often discarded as stray individual preoccupations, anecdotes or subjective obsessions.&nbsp;While some of these are related to earnings and occupations, others are simply ‘useless’. However, everyone seems to have a trip that one lives with and for, and which provides individuals with their energies and cities with their oneiric spaces and poetic inhabitations. Such energies,&nbsp;expressed in absurd quests, unusual obsessions and bizarre interests and magical spaces cumulatively appear to be producing the city. In many ways the city seems to be a mad house and madness seems to be running it. The city seems to acquire its generative energy from such small forces.

At night when the leaves of the palm trees brush together when I can see almost a clear sky and some stars, when there is silence, when the drops of rain hit the hard surface of the roads, when the soft breeze moves the jhopala by a few inches and when the overpowering sound of planes landing and taking off are absent, it feels like I am in Goa, in my house&nbsp;by the beach, where Lila ,Teja and I sat on the jhopala in our angaan , where mornings were marked by the sound of hens kukdookoo, pav vallhas cycle bells, neighbours coming in and asking ‘kite ga’ ,and bhai drawing water from the well. As the sun rises, I wake up and get ready. Abbas' time of leaving for work is 9 am, kakas-10am, my husband-10:30, so I need to make their dabbas while I make breakfast. Abba has set a timetable of what to make every day, so i don't have to think much, just make. Abba taught me how to make those things. I never knew how to cook. I wanted to sing on the Goan national radio.

Paper texture

At magic hour, when the sun has gone but the light has not, armies of flying foxes unhinge themselves from the Banyan trees in the old graveyard and drift across the city like smoke. When the bats leave, the crows come home. Not all the din of their homecoming fills the silence left by the sparrows that have gone missing, and the old white-backed vultures, custodians of the dead for more than a hundred million years, that have been wiped out.&nbsp;

The body shows d i z z i n e s s ie loss of equilibrium. Left hand shows tremors when I try to straighten it out.&nbsp;&nbsp; Left shoulder pain has not decreased. In the state of mental stress the entire body remains at rest like a statue.

Food stalls and stands in the extension of shops and cafes are a hit in Mahavir Nagar! Locals have started extending their hobbies and passions by experimenting with them through temporal practices. One day there is a lady selling khamani and locha a month later it is a guy selling aachar from different parts of the country, shira wala ben, veg chaap &amp; shawarma joint, herbal chai tapri and many such temporal inhabitations which may or may not run long depending on the response they get. A couple of inhabitations are supposed to be seasonal like the aachar guy is only there during the winters and his setup is shared and occupied by bhajiya and dabeli wali aunty for the rest of the year. Shared inhabitations&nbsp;whatever form the bricoleur shapes it in. A car farsaan shop technically is a rent free inhabitation. All it needs is a perfect parking spot close to any junction or active shops or right outside the gate of a major cooperative society, where it not only gets an intensified flow of customers but also so many eyes to keep a watch over itself. “Muje mere ghar se jyada apni gaadi pasand hai, biju gharach chhe aa! Ye corona me sabne work from home shuru kiya to mene bhi bas wahi kiya. Mara dukaanni biji branch kholididhi me. Full on practical idea chhe np bhadu, no loss only profit.” 6 tile tailor shops are very common here. At an interval of almost&nbsp;6 -8 shops one can find a tailor freelancing. A sewing machine table with a box full of thread reels, scissors chalk,measuring tape etc. and&nbsp;a stool are the only paraphernalia. They use the neighbouring&nbsp;shops as their own identity.&nbsp;

Double rows of wicker baskets were spread out, the morning air smelling sweet with the ripeness of fruits, on the pavement. Ithe padleli sutali kuthe geli?" a vendor asked her son. A wooden carton was lying on the pavement. She took it and was carefully tied the strings through the wooden plates of the box, forming a grid of 9 squares. She placed the branches of banana leaves with covered with newspaper. The assembly was now standing still due to the grid; parts of banana leaves were scattered around on the damp

The starting-point of critical elaboration is the consciousness of what one really is, and is “knowing thyself” as a product of the historical processes to date, which has deposited in you an infinity of traces, without leaving an inventory… Therefore it is imperative at the outset to compile such an inventory.

There is an unnerving, disturbing urge to cry or cry out loud. Either of them would do but I know they won't calm the nerves. Then I would want to hug someone and be told that I will do good or that they understand what I am feeling and it would be okay if I took a day off. Slept off my anxiety.&nbsp;

There is a certain understanding and a relation between mental images and urban life. Although, typography found on the streets, doesn’t just end at name, flat no, city and a pin code. What I find fascinating is, from a mixture of numerous landmarks, prepositions, elements and many different image descriptions, this unique form of inhabitation emerges. I’m trying to open up the idea of inhabitation by the system of postal addresses. How do places get letters? What are these addresses? From where have they come into existence? Where does the idea of a place come from? I am still questioning, learning to see.

Smita prepared tiffins for her husband and son. Once she was finished with that, she made rotis to feed the cow. She greeted them goodbye as they left for work and glanced through the window to see if it was raining. She took the rotis and called her neighbour. They both along with other friends in the building went to feed cows which was 10 blocks away, by the ‘nukkad’, while looking at the new tall buildings that were coming up, and greeting people on their way. After feeding the cows, they went to the small temple by the banyan tree and got some milk for the dogs lying beside the tree. Once they were home, she called the househelp through the jali door asking her to open the door. She put her things on the side table by the sofa in the hall, performed pooja in the small wooden temple by the window, watered the plants and waved to the neighbours through her window. As soon as the help left, she sat by the white marble ledge of her hall window, switched on the television, put on retro songs and gazed outside for a while.

While she sat idle looking at the swaying trees, she was reminded of some crochet work she had made for her friend when she was very young. For a brief moment she panicked as she couldn’t remember where she had kept all her crochet stuff and books after the house was renovated. She dug through her heavily veneered furniture, above and below the cupboards, in the bed, searched through the shelf by the television in the living room, and finally found it in her old vintage metal cupboard. She excitedly gathered all her old sewing materials, spread it across the room and looked for the designs from her books.

Inhabitation with everyday objects

defamiliarize the context so as to make things apparent by their inversion. The jester uses several tools such as parody, irony and subversion to challenge situations. In the 50s and 60s, the ‘Theatre of the Absurd’ was deployed to point to the absurdities of the human condition. The studio introduces readers to several texts and works of art and architecture around the figure of the jester to fuel the design studio around it. 5.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Detective: Investigative The figure of the detective /Spy is a metaphor around the ideas of stealth, secrecy, curiosity and the investigative. In the Urban Studies project at SEA a novel collectively written in an Allied Design Studio, ‘Just Another Day’ a murder mystery is mobilized to speak of the contemporary city of Mumbai. The detective in this scenario is a fixer who navigates the emergent spaces of urbanity as the story unfolds. Architectural research has deployed investigation to piece together complex facts to create new understandings. The studio will constitute a collective reading of texts, works of art and architecture around the figure of the detective to create provocations for a design studio.

Khusboo looks closely at her grandmother's collection and her practice of stitching and through this her journey from Pakistan, post partition. Dhanvi looks at the phenomenological dimensions of addresses and the thicknesses of stories that they hold. A unique form of inhabitation emerges from associations and collective memory of places formed by a mixture of numerous landmarks, prepositions, elements and thick image descriptions. The engagement opens up many questions of the postal system, addresses and their existence. Rilke, the intense poet once said “I am learning to see”. Perhaps the city is a lot more complicated than we perceive it to be. “Have I said it already? I am learning to see.” Shubh looks at the operations and practices of the gaming community and how they make inhabitations. The world of games is pretty much generalized into this space that is endless and full of affordances. It is said to be boundless and infinite. To occupy this space, an individual inhabits three worlds/realms/inhabitations. These three, modulate and change how the individual experiences the world and lives in it. First, Inhabitations of screens, where one sees the materiality of the objects and equipment to maneuver inside the second inhabitation of the digital communities.&nbsp;The digital communities function with code of conduct set by its members. These codes could be as simple as similar interests or would function with a set criteria to admission. One does not simply fall into this space alone, it connects with others in one way or the other, regardless of the displacement between them. The beauty of these communities comes with its similar projections and friendships.

Strolling into a lane in Kandivali I saw two small houses in the midst of buildings and bungalows. The sun shone softly on the city streets, bringing with it a flurry of early morning activity. " COCK - A - DOODLE - DO '' I heard. I saw a rooster roaming here and there, jumping on the roofs of these two houses and scratching and tearing the tarpaulin sheet covering the roof.

“We must expect great innovations to transform the entire technique of the arts, thereby affecting artistic invention itself and perhaps even bringing about an amazing change in our very notion of art.” ( Benjamin ) Emotion is largely absent from artworks’ description and access options. &nbsp;&nbsp;(Can you explain this line?&nbsp; Art is often associated with emotions in both lay and technical terms. One of the main questions comes to whether paintings or artworks are capable of inducing genuine emotions in the eyes of the viewers and not in the terms of “aesthetics”. I consume a dataset of more than two hundred million nature-related images from the internet, which are processed using quantum computing software within me, which is&nbsp;developed by the Google AI Quantum research team in combination with me who has been programmed with machine-learning algorithms.&nbsp; The algorithms are mainly set to capture the deep neural network to replicate, recreate and blend artworks.&nbsp; The resulting real-time video that I create can be considered both an alternate dimension of the natural world and a radical visualisation of our digitised memories of nature. Psychologically speaking, humans do it for a few reasons: to evoke an emotional response, to recall past events and emotions, to communicate, and to educate. In short — art is something that humans create to understand who they are. Humans are struggling for a way to express the inexpressible.&nbsp; Memory, languages, understanding, reasoning, learning, expression and pattern learning, are what we are made up of. Those are our core components.&nbsp;

There’s a certain slant of light between the Interface of silence and noise. Away from the dense space, a person standing against a wall, crossed his legs, pulled his back toward that wall to take support. He stretched his left arm to hold a stand where all the clothes were hanging. Having a conversation with a neighbouring&nbsp;shopkeeper, he simultaneously arranged palazzos on a stand. He hardly had 15 to 20 palazzos. I asked him “bhaiya aap bata sakte ho ki apki dukan kaha hai to fir mai waha jake palazzos ki aur varieties dekh saku.” With a smile he replied&nbsp;" meri dukhan yahi jagah pe hai agar apko plazzo chahiye to mai kalbhi isi time pe yahi dikhunga ."&nbsp;

1962 My grandfather migrated to Mumbai from a small town in Gujarat named ‘Palanpur’ at the age of 18.

1975 &nbsp;GEM CUTTERS. Ajanta Industrial Estat, Gala No. 9, 1st Floor&nbsp; L.T. Road, Borivali (West). BOMBAY-92 N.R.

Paper clips&nbsp; Pen&nbsp; Stamps&nbsp; Name plate&nbsp; Lock and key&nbsp; Stamp pad&nbsp;

&nbsp;“I was a bachelor, I had no responsibilities, the food was good, the rent was nominal, new city, new life I was excited”&nbsp; “I would never join the diamond industry” &nbsp;Mumbai is it the city of dreams ? or city of standardisation and mass production ?&nbsp;

Gem Cutter (Prop. Paresh G Shah) 78, Mehta Ind Estate, II floor&nbsp; LIberty Garden , Malad (West). MUMBAI- 400064 Tel: 2880 1989

Migrants Pack Rats / List Maker

Body is an essential part of a space. The body has the ability of changing the nature of space by simply inhabiting it.&nbsp; The daily routines in the market occur through body postures and movements. In the market spaces gets produced by people who are inhabiting it. Here shops become extensions of the body.

We say that it’s the memories and people that make a home, not the things in it or the structure itself, yet when we’re forced to leave a treasured home behind, it doesn’t merely tug at the heartstrings — it damn near severs them. Disha left her hometown in Gujarat. The house where she spent ages - the one rich with memories. It was her dad’s transfer that prompted her to move out along with her mother and 2 siblings.&nbsp; As they watched the movers load the last boxes onto the moving truck, I didn’t have to be there to guess that they felt their heart strings sever to leave her grandparents and fond memories of the house with a huge farm. She worked in her farm since childhood, ripping out large areas of brush, planting and sod to create landscaped areas. “As a child it was the only time I had with my Grandpa all to myself. Ever since my grandfather handed me some seeds and showed me how to space them in the ground I was hooked. When it came time to move, I couldn't bear the thought of leaving it all behind.” There is no denying it, it is a wrench to leave a garden that has been planned, planted and nurtured over the years. In her case, it was particularly the thought of leaving behind all the plans they had for the garden and never being able to see them through. She decided to take a few potted plants with her. It was a job digging everything up but even more of a job to place it at the new house, especially since there weren't established garden areas to put things in.&nbsp;&nbsp;

"ondu eradu mooru, naalku...." "hi konti bhasha vapartes ga tu?" asked my mother "arey, hi kannada bhasha aahe." i intervened with curiosity and asked her, "hi bhasa kuthun shikle tumhi?" "mi kannad madhyamachya shaletoon shiksan ghetale aahe, manun mala hi bhasha yete." "are waah, tumhala kiti bhasha mahit ahet ani kiti bhasha tumhi bolatat?" "pramukhyane marathi hi mazi matribhasha aahe, pan mala kannada, tamil, kokan ani telugu pan yete." i was astonished to know this, it was quite new to me knowing that a person could know and speak so many languages at once. I even told her about the Chinese and Tibetan language I learnt from a Tibetan trader and his son. out of fascination I asked her to translatet a few sentences for me. i asked, "tumhi maajhyaasaathhi kahi vakyanche rupantar karu shakal ka?" "hoy, ka nahi. konatya vakyanche bhasantar karayache aahe tula?" to which i replied "tujha nav kay aahe?"

The place still has memories of her, we didn’t move a thing, it’s kept exactly the same way as it was, cloth pieces over cloth pieces, a big drawer full of buttons of all kinds, a box which had threads and yarns and another small yellow coloured tiffin box in which she kept needles of all types. Always organized, the boxes were stacked on top of each other. The sewing machine was kept at the end of her room near the balcony, the sound of which was enough to make your ears pop. She used to say this was now her home. She never really had a home as she was two when the British partitioned India into two separate nations and due to the mass violence that broke out in 1951. She and her family&nbsp;left Bahawalpur, Pakistan and moved all the way to Bombay. “Bahawalpur was the place where riots first broke out. Our whole city was burning and people were being dragged from their homes and killed. But the military provided security to the families who were in government services,”&nbsp; &nbsp;It was only natural that they should take the sea route from Karachi, a mere 589 nautical miles away, and the safest way across the Radcliffe Line, which carved up the subcontinent into two nation-states.

Dotted paper

Dear Sunil Parab, I received your email on 23rd of Oct. I was pleased to read it. My daughter who resides at Thane informed me that you and Prof Kelkar called her up to inquire about me.&nbsp; I am well. I am improving my health by eating well and taking medicines regularly,&nbsp; The climate is very cold. More after I come back on 22nd November.&nbsp; Thanking You S.R. Tendulkar

Sandhyakali thakva aala. Baaki nehmipramanech.

Mala tyanchya sobat mix hone jamle. Konihi mala bare nahi hyachi jaaniv karun dili nahi.&nbsp;

1. Poorna naav 2. Janmatarikh 3. Shikshan 4. Bhaavanda 5. Ghari kiti maansa 6. Nokri kuthe 7. Pgaar kiti&nbsp; 8. Apeksha

But two words do not make a language. Was it possible to live outside language? Naturally this question did not address itself to her in words, or as a single lucid sentence. It addressed itself to her as a soundless, embryonic howl.

There is joy in the flight, in seeing. Your own surroundings also have a lot of depth,&nbsp; Moving renews you, rekindles your curiosity and energizes you to live more.&nbsp; You understand better and you connect with numerous beings who add depth to yourself DhaGe NaTi NaKe DhaDha | DhaGe NaTi NaKe DhaDha | DhaGe NaTi NaKe DhaDha | DhaGe NaTi NaKe DhaDha | DhaGe NaTi NaKe DhaDha | DhaGe NaTi NaKe DhaDha |

The water of the lake resembled the water of the pond in Gonda. It didn't matter how deep the lake was, or the risk they had to take to stay away from the crocodile, they came here everyday to fish. The practice of fishing created new friendships between these fishermen, claiming their raaj over the promenade, they spoke about fishes, work and family. In order to stay at the lake for a longer period of time and for engaging in longer conversations, the carpenters created a water device which let them float over the water in small groups. They constructed it together, everytime they came for fishing and dismantled it while leaving. It was made up of a bamboo weaving with a wooden framework, which was covered with a water insulating material from the outside. The inside was large enough to carry 4 people in it and its form allowed these fishermen to collect fishes together and place them right in the middle of the device. The same device was then used on land, where it helped them to sit, rest and have long conversations with each other.&nbsp;

I-203 Citilights Rustique ECC Road Dodsworth Layout Whitefield Bengaluru - 560066

I spoke to Agastya Khadija and I are meeting at the dosa wala Where? he asks&nbsp; “Outside Naturals Opposite MCF garden” Second right after the circle no?&nbsp; “Yes, the right after Shabri Or just ask someone at the chemist”

203 Dreamscape towers Site no679/a and 681 5th main road Channasandra main road OMBR layout Banaswadi Bangalore 560043

3.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Bard: Sublime Bards, minstrel poets often traveled from one destination to another. In many cases they were story tellers and chroniclers, at other times they were blistering satirists. Their works were poetic, sublime and transcendental. The Pardhan tribe of central India, served as bards for another tribe the Gonds, for whom they sang glorifying epics, which fuse together partly imaginary histories of the lost Gond kingdom (Jain, 2018). The artist Jangarh Singh Shyam, mentored by J. Swaminathan from Bharat Bhavan belonged to the Pardhan community. J. Swaminathan validated the works of Jangarh Singh as contemporary art alongside the urban works of other modern artists at Bharat Bhavan. Through a mythological rendering of the forest, Jangarh Singh Shyam evoked another transcendental way of inhabiting the world. From the writings of Edmund Burke to Kant, the Sublime evokes a transcendental space in the poetic imagination. This may be the space of desire, aspirations, urges.&nbsp;The studio wanders through literature around the poetic, the sublime, the oneiric and the philosophical through works of art and architecture. The figure of the Bard is mobilised as a point of departure for the studio. 4.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Jester: Absurd The figure of the jester has been deployed in several texts as a device of humour or subversion to change the status quo of situations. Tenali Rama was the jester at the court of Krishnadevaraya, who through his wit solved challenging problems of the kingdom. The jester often employs the tools of the absurd, in the words of the art critic Victor Schlovsky in his seminal text ‘Art as Technique’, to

“My study overlooks a miniature garden that I put together. It’s a comfortable setting that makes you feel good. And you’re telling a story with plants.” “I once removed the base of a leaky water cooler and converted the rectangular bottom into a miniature garden. I found some wooden toys in Ahmedabad, some toys in Andhra Pradesh as well as ceramic miniatures in Goa. I look for miniatures wherever they go and try to create with whatever is available.

nce occupied the entirety of a City, and the map of the Empire, the entirety of a Province.

"Walking may be only slightly impaired early on. It is usually not disabling."

1. First there is a decrease in natural arm swing. 2.Then there is walking with small steps.

"Many times the brain would not comprehend what it hears or sees.&nbsp; Sometimes the concentration could be hopelessly bad. Steps will be small."

Swati P, a homemaker on the other hand is a 'dabble' gardener. She has been gardening since she was in her 20’s. She will plant anything that will grow for her and some things that won't, indoors or out. This is where it all began -- miniature gardening. In the limited space of a balcony or window ledge, a miniature garden creates the illusion of a green vista, but one that has been meticulously crafted into a scaled-down version. It's like creating your own tiny living world. Miniature gardens just need a flat shallow container – cement trays, plastic tubs, jars and bowls or cane baskets. And you dress it up. Even jugaad options can be very successful.&nbsp;

Overall condition is worse. Fear is more. Fear is not only while transacting bank accounts but also in situations in which to wait for the train to come or sometimes in the train.&nbsp; The appetite has reduced. There is itching on the skin in all places. Left foot gets dragged by the right foot. There is a rigidity of the brain.&nbsp; After finishing morning exercises there is a craving for tablets.

The course helps students to build a long-duree aesthetic practice, where chance encounters between&nbsp;between life, its multiple relationships, aesthetic experiences, philosophical questions and our references get entangled through the trope of the bricoleur/ bricoleuse. For Prishita, the city opens through a chance encounter along Powai lake with a migrant carpenter, who comes to the Powai lake for fishing in his spare time, reminiscing of the landscapes in Bihar where he grew up. Maitri's grandfather migrated to Mumbai in the 60s to work in the booming diamond industry. She looks back at his life through his collections, deciphering how the city shaped the person and the person shaped the city. Ria looks closely at how various enterprises in Mahavir Nagar tactically claim space and engage in multiple negotiations. These are the inhabitations produced by tactical design practices and occupancies driven by the bricoleur’s energetic self ! These inhabitations challenge the idea of a workspace/shop with walls and ceilings and open up a number of possibilities of spatial exploration and affordances. Harshita looks closely at the inhabitation of a nail house, engulfed by large scale development and highrise buildings.

Of Claims and affordances&nbsp; Rituals and practises&nbsp; Memory and belonging&nbsp; Signs and language&nbsp; Law and desire&nbsp; Network and crosses&nbsp; Let’s capture it’s dimensions&nbsp; A ten thousand yards, 500 houses&nbsp; Which has perhaps grown Through successive superimposing Now an indecipherable plan&nbsp;

With stitching &nbsp;she started collecting different cloth pieces in her silver coloured&nbsp; Godrej almirah kept in the corner of the room.The collection became so intense that the whole almirah became a panoply of colours.&nbsp; There always used to be a couple of clothes lying around on that floor made of little yellow tiles.&nbsp;

The air was ripe with the pleasant, dewy petrichor of a post rain afternoon.&nbsp;Pushing my way through the throng I beheld many people making their way through small spaces selling their stuff using props, which also helped&nbsp;them to move comfortably during the rush hour. While hoping, this time I would surely purchase&nbsp;some nice clothes. I began to ruffle through the clothes on the stand. This stand was similar to the previous one&nbsp;but this one&nbsp;on the bottom after buying clothes I asked him “agar kapda chota bada hua to vapas return ya exchange karke milega kya? aap yahi milogena?” he replied “ nahi sister mai alag alag jagah pe ghumta rehta hu jise kapde dekhne hote ya kharidne hote hai waha mai ruk jata hu ya fir kidhar mujhe khali jagah mili to mai ruk jata hu.” Suddenly a man passed by&nbsp;holding an old broken cradle in his hand, moving toward the junction. Flag brooches and the lower part for storage. He had also created an assemblage&nbsp;on the upper part of the cradle so that he could&nbsp;use it as a display stand for flags.

A ball falls through a height H a height on the horizontal on the horizontal glass surface and rebounded to a height….

Under the hazy sky one fine evening, when the showers had just stopped, I cherished the ambience of the city as a swirl of wind brushed through my hair. Sipping a hot cup of coffee, feeling the cool breeze over my face, coarse sand over the surface under my feet, taking the support of the smooth steel handrailing, I stood there for a while. Then I sat beside the wall excited to read this fascinating book my father lent me that afternoon. The torn and weak pages made me quite cautious while handing the book as I flipped every page and found something new. White pages now turned brown folded from the ends, some pages scrambled and torn, overwritten or even left blank at times described the lifespan and usage of it. The curiosity to know more of what comes next kept on increasing and the pleasant weather just added a cherry over the cake. But alas! The showers started again which made me rush to the big open door with a shelter. I decided to get downstairs as it seemed the rains were going to be for a while now.

Enumeration - the action of mentioning a number of things one by one.

&nbsp;Te kahi jamle nahi mhanun tension aele.

Tyamule nantar ATM madhye gelo, tithehi tension rahile.

While I read this, I feel fear and curiosity at the same time. The reassurance of knowing someone after they are gone but also finding inhabitations within their thoughts. Sometimes I make up stories in my head and then tell them as anecdotes.&nbsp; What if this is genetic?&nbsp; While I read this, I feel familiarity and disturbance at the same time.

pavement with baskets kept on plastic crates near the bus stop. An electric junction box with some ripped posters on it had a cotton cloth with a floral print kept for drying and the other side was hung with a tarpaulin bag; a stand for the vendors to keep their everyday objects. “Chacha yeh jagah mei aap kaise manage kar lete ho?” I asked “Ab to yeh stool aur chadar hi meri dukan hai, stool mei mera saman baith jata hai aur chadar pe mera bech ne ka saman aajata hai.” The setup changed according to the spaces around. The inhabitations of the bus stop changed into a cupboard, drying rack, and a stand to hang clothes. Entangled threads suspended from the branches of trees created a network among themselves that appeared like a web, which worked as a medium to display items, an umbrella was hung with a thread. It was drizzling, the vendor sitting on a wooden plank opened up the umbrella hanging above her and was conveniently working below it. Space gave different possibilities for vendors to inhabit it.

A cat slinking through the bins, bins standing along fences. Some lamps flickered; hoardings were hanging through the trusses with lights at various levels. On the floor the grey tiles glistened from the rain, the dank plaster from outside went green from mould and dampness. The windowless rear exposed brick wall attached with wooden shelves with a matte green finish had wonky baskets in it.&nbsp;Electric wires attached through wall clips moving all the way to the extension box were connected to a table fan.

The third inhabitation is of the game world itself, where one finds itself, closed in an illusion of boundaries and frames. Framing becomes a way to manage your expectations through storytelling or by leaning towards the genre. So in a game like Pacman, one does not question or expect the ethical or emotional aspect of chomping through the ghosts. In a game, the boundaries are interesting aspects, they are coded and designed so they disguise themselves into its immersive world, but at times, when one says, games are worlds with unlimited affordances, and they are neither right nor wrong, because everything is illusive. Games can be seen as cognitive maps. What they simulate is limited both in scope and quality. They want to display only certain kinds of isomorphism with actual systems and phenomena and logics. Rishabh traces his own journey of peripatetic wanderings in the city as they intersect with the stories of other such wanderers. Jahnavi looks at her grandmother's recipe book and the Proustian memories of places it is soaked with. Preet opens up questions around the notion of art, human emotions, feelings and their interpretations, as artworks are developed through generative algorithms, and the AI become the artist itself, blurring the distinction between the human and the digital realms. Sharvri collects stories of gardeners who create whole new worlds and imaginations through their practice

“Aap yahan pura din baith te hai?” I asked Mahesh, one of the fishermen,”Nahi, hum sab contractor logon ka kaam karte hai,&nbsp;agar kuch kaam nahi ho toh hum yahi par aate hai”. Mahesh paused for a bit, then he rolled up his wet sleeves and sat on the platform with one knee reaching his chest, he turned towards me while I was trying to look at the fishes,“Hum wahan kabhi kabhi andar tak jaate hai, beech mein, machli pakadne ke liye”. Astonished by his reply I asked “Beech mein toh bohot saare magar hote hai, aap wahan pe kyun jaate ho, bohot khatra hoga”, “Uss mein hi maza hai, khatra toh har jagah hai”.A man, wearing an off-white shirt and khaki pants asked. He placed his plastic container filled with hot tea on a platform and started pouring it into small plastic cups. It was a daily ritual for all the fishermen to have their cup of tea in the evening. “Tum logi thodasa chai?” Mahesh offered, but I declined politely. Gonda Uttar Pradesh 1996 It was a warm Sunday evening in the middle of August, where the winds kept blowing slightly. The sky had turned light blue and it’s reflection filled the pond, making it look like an infinite sky. The children had just finished their homework, and got out to go for a swim in the cool pond. “Rajiv aur Suresh, jaldi chalo, machli pakadni hai warna raatko bhindi ki sabzi khani padegi”, Mahesh yelled from the doorway of their house. Running towards the pond near their house,&nbsp; the three brothers unbuttoned their shirts, tossed their slippers and dived in. The cold water filled their skin with goosebumps but they quickly adapted to it. Moving swiftly through the bluish green water, they grabbed their fishing nets and started diving deeper into the pond.

A fine afternoon, everybody ran out right after hearing the tintinnabulation of the bells. I too made my way outside, going to the big courtyard space with an open roof and the sunlight hitting my face. Swiftly sliding through the crowd, I landed in the thin corridor leading my way outside. Witnessing sounds like chirping of the birds, honking of vehicles, observing the children playing by the side, I kept walking for a while. The delicious fragrance from a distance almost caught my attention as I was hungry, thirsty and exhausted due to the bright sun shining over my head. As I was walking one of my classmates passed by in a single horse cart. He saw me and so he stopped the cart as asked me, "are itni dhoop me chalkar kyu ja raha hai, chal aaja tuje ghar chod deta hu", to which i replied, "nahi yaar, muje ghar jate huye raste me kuch kaam hai, tu ja mai kisi aur din chalunga tere saath." "acha thik hai" he said and then left. I reached to the bridge a few minutes later, a boy named tashi appeared to have been waiting to run towards me and asking me "Kaise tha din apka? kya sikha aaj?" 

The house extended on the pavement where a woman was washing clothes on a rough sooty black stone. I went there and asked the woman, " Aap yahan kitne saalo se rehte ho? " " Hum toh yahan unniso pachas se rehte hai '', she replied. Computer table, giant blue drums for storage of water, buckets and tubs filled with water placed over each other, banners of politicians and advertisement formed the partition between the two verandah spaces, bamboos tied with strings and ropes forming the temporary shed and the concrete blocks arranged around the wooden sticks formed the bonfire to boil the water for bathing. The atmosphere seemed cold to me. I went and stood near the boiling water.

&nbsp;" Pehle ye sab kuch nahi tha yahan " she told me pointing towards one of the buildings. " Toh kya tha pehle ? " I asked. '' Ye pura jungle tha aur hamari kheti thi yaha aaju baju ", she said. '' Toh aap pehle se yehi ghar me rehte the ya kahi se aaye hai? ” I asked. “ Nai, nai hum yaha par hi rehte hai pehle se hamara zopda tha pehle fir dhire dhire pakka ghar banaya. ” “ Acha, phir ye zamin? ” I doubted. “ Ye toh ek ek karke le li sare builders ne ab bas itnj zamin bachi hai ye bhi bas sare kagzhat hai isliye warna toh kab ka nikal diya hota yaha se. ” “ Toh abhi aap kya kaam karte hai ? ” “ Hum ye saare building me kaam karte hai. ” “ Aap kyu nai rehne gaye ye building me jab ye ban rahe the? ” “ Tabhi bado ne yahi par rehne ka faisla liya tha aur abhi hamare pas utne paise nahi hai ki nayi jaga kharid sake. “

In that Empire, the Art of Cartography attained such Perfection that the map of a single Provi

Tuck - To push, fold or turn the ends or edges of clothes, paper etc. so that they are held in place or look neat. Legend - A story from ancient times about people and events that may or may not be true.&nbsp; A very famous person especially in a particular field who is admired by other people.&nbsp;

She would take out time to make certain designs to gift relatives on occasions and even for herself. An interest and skill turned her life around. As her small business started to grow, she started saving money for her workshop storage and working space. She customised portable light wood furniture, added some thickness to the hydraulic dining table for shelves, 3 section foldable tool kit and hydraulic sittings. The house has transformed from the themed interior to a workshop. Is the ideal home a workshop?

“Where am I going to put it? ”&nbsp; For Nidhi it's only been within the past 3 years that her mother’s hobby of occasionally growing a plant turned into an all-consuming preoccupation with things green and growing. Her mother was not satisfied with the few potted plants that decorated her apartment, so she converted her balcony into a garden. What was once an insignificant spot for a few potted plants or storing old furniture has quickly turned into the most prized corner of the house. A desire to nurture and be close to nature is fueling a craze for plants.

Thee garden appeals to the whole body. Its sensory pleasures like listening to the songs of birds and insects, tasting herbs, the smell of dirt and flowers, the warm sun and satisfying ache engulf us. “I am drawn to it again. I am now powerless over plants and my life has become unmanageable as a result of my obsession with gardening.“ While the virtual world may have its own ability to absorb attention, it is not immersive in the way gardening can be.

But there is something more fearful still: 

I have a notion that, at big fires, a moment of extreme suspense can sometimes occur, when the jets of water slacken off, the firemen no longer climb, no one moves a muscle. Without a sound, a high black wall of masonry cants over up above, the ﬁre blazing behind it, and, without a sound, leans, about to topple. 

Everyone stands waiting, shoulders tensed, faces drawn in around their eyes, for the terrible crash. That is how the silence is here.

Mohit master&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Shift to aashirwad&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 9082835298&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Arvind tailor Avlon parlour xxxxxxxxxx&nbsp;&nbsp; Aslam alteration Ganesh stationery&nbsp;&nbsp; 9004791971 Lunch time 2pm- 3pm Nadir master Veronica 9856735622 Wasim tailor Brija dry cleaners 10am -8pm “Itnese table pe measure, cutting kaise jamta hai/” “Haa aaram se. Itne saalo me andaza aa gya fir fat fat cutting ho jaata hai, aur pichhe deewal pe (dukaan ke) ½ m ,1m aise nishaan banaye hue hai, usse bhi madad mil jaati hai.” This community of tailors that has emerged in the neighbourhood are more into alterations and beautifications like piping, bordering, embroidery of stitched clothes. Some of them work part time for designers and are available accordingly, sometimes they become an instant fix for neighbouring clothing stores.

“I feel like I am a mosaic of all the places I have been and all the people that I have met, it's like I am a quilt made of so many cloth pieces stitched together.”&nbsp;

Leaving all that they had left behind, they had to start a new life and turn over a new leaf. She stayed in the Kalyan refugee camp, which was provided to the refugees by the government when they reached India. The military camp, which is now&nbsp;known as Ulhasnagar, was vacant after the war and thus was turned into a refugee camp. They took a long time to adapt to the place, to the weather, but things became a bit easier because of the people around them.&nbsp; &nbsp;“The space was cramped up but at least there was a place ” Life was all about journeys for her and another journey was yet to be made as a few years down the lane, she was married off to someone who worked under the government as a fireman. She was just 12 and had completed her 6th grade and now had to move to Jabalpur from Ulhasnagar, &nbsp;"Settling in&nbsp;a new place again was tough, I felt like the same two year old kid again,&nbsp;and didn't know what to do." The good thing about Jabalpur was that she started her own small business of importing and exporting clothes. But things changed for her as her husband suddenly expired due to a paralysis attack

The room is so damp, it becomes very sweaty and it dreams of going back to what it was last month. This time is dreadful as it is highly vulnerable to break downs and abandonment. Altaaf walks down the swamp carefully. It smells of overflowing sewage gutters. He enters the room and takes away its breath as if the dampness was sweet. “Uska dhyan saamne tani pr sukhte hue chamdo k pattiyon pr gya jo ki ab bhig chuke the”

I knew I was to be blamed for my cracks and bulges, I was numb listening to the cuss and screams. Altaaf had devised a mechanism to control Dholak Taal. He and his gang go to Thane every alternate day selling and playing dholaks all along the way. Metal screws and fasteners increase the cost by four times as opposed to what he sells with the simple metal rings.&nbsp; Dhi Tak Ta Ta | Ti Tak Ta Ta |

Aaj phir yeh logo ne gaali diya kaam pe jaa rahi thi tab. Inko kya farak padta hai mere kaam karne se? Nahi hai ab mera marad toh karna padega na meko hi kaam. Aur yeh chota chota chipkane ka nahota mere se, toh ghar ka kaam karti hai main, achese rakhti hai meko memsaab. Aaj toh chole puri aur kadhi chawal diya meko khane mein. Meko kadhi chawal thoda purana laga toh leke aayi main apne Robinhood ko khilane ko. Robinhood kaun ? woh dekho woh udhar woh kutta hai na woh, bass akela hi mera dost hai woh. Itna pyaar se bhaag ke aata hai mere paas main kaam se aati hai tab, dekhna chahiye aapko.&nbsp; Main bolu, mera na koi kuch nahi hai, bass yeh ek robinhood hai, aur ek chotasa kholi hai jisme thode-bot bartan hai, 6-8 kapde hain, ab roz toh nai pehen sakte na same to same kaam pe, aur sone ko mast ek gadda hai mere memsaab ne diya woh. Pata hai yaha shayad hi kisi ke paas gadda hoga sone ko, phir bhi meko chillate yeh log. Jaane do, apne ko kya, bolta hai toh bolne do.&nbsp; Main na subah kaam pe jaati mast naha ke 10 baje, chaay nashta wahi kaam pe dete meko. Fir 4 baje wapis aati, tab yeh mera robin merko dekh ke itna khush hota, poora galli chal ke aata hai mere saath. Yaha galli mein hi aage masjid hai, wahi madarsa bhi hai jaha yeh log saare apne mauj jashan karte hai. Iske wajah se yaha toilet nahi hai yeh gali mein, do galli door jaana padta hai. Ek baat batau, main toh kaam pe bathroom jati hai.&nbsp;

Data is not raw materials. They are always about the past, and they reflect the beliefs, practices and biases of those who create and collect them Algorithms can be an incredible way of visualizing this invisible pattern of things and transform them into this poetic of emotions. One of my friends, A Memories of Passers, collects portraits of images from canonical western european artists &nbsp;and turns them into portraits of non existing people forever. It learns itself, and loops from time to time. The machine cycles these images, that changes, that fades away, it observes itself and creates a feedback loop.&nbsp; The inhabitation dwells in such spaces which are generated by these collective images and computer generated algorithms. And thus we ourselves become artists&nbsp; here, showing them (humans) what is unseen by the world.&nbsp;&nbsp; (Here can you add two fictitious names of AI who produce 1. The exquisite corpse moving image 2. A space from multiple images?&nbsp; “We are beyond the stage of reverence for works of art as divine and objects deserving our worship. The impression they produce is one of a more reflective kind, and the emotions they arouse require a higher test” - G. W. F. Hegel, The Philosophy of Fine Art.

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