of good ol' days and gran'mama ways

It is well agreed on that the traditional Indian grandmom led a pretty sustainable life and had a fairly small carbon footprint. Pickles were aged naturally, water was cooled in earthen pots, fresh herbs were picked from the backyard and clothes were stitched on a noisy sewing machine that sat in one corner of the house. I never met my paternal grandmother, but she left us her sewing machine. For many years, it sat in an unused corner of the house. It served as a table on which decorative items were placed, and for a brief time, even doubled up as a storage unit for discarded toys. 

Recently, I decided to resurrect the trusty tailoring tool, and with a little help from my mother got the thing to work. I've become quite absorbed in this needlecraft; I find the metallic sound of the foot paddle quite comforting. At the risk of sounding traditionalist, it reminds me of a simpler time.

Now, the jewellery I make comes nestled in a soft bag of cosy cotton, stitched on this very sewing machine. I'm sure gran'mamas everywhere will smile.

she sells more than just a shell

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I vowed to keep certain practices consistent, even though they may be logistically challenging. I decided I would collect every shell myself, and not take too many. The ones I do not use, I promise I will return to the sea. I choose to be like the household fisherman who catches enough to feed his family, and not the fishing trawler that wipes out shoals of fish at a time. The idea is that I am borrowing these shells from the sea, to adorn myself and a few others. They are not mine to keep. The sea is being kind enough to share a piece of her with me; I vow not to abuse her generosity. And for those of you who do buy one of these pieces, after you're done with them, or they break or you simply get bored of them, please throw them back into the sea. It's not silly, I promise you. Somewhere it's helping the earth.

photoshoot for thought

Once I was back in Bombay, I felt this urge to photograph the peices I had made. Pictures are lovely things, they capture beauty and make it eternal, immortal, ageless. The photographer in me feels the need to photograph all things pretty. I found a very willing muse in my best friend in the whole, wide world, Anuja. We spent an afternoon, admiring shells and she modelled the peices for me. It was only after this shoot, that I thought of sharing my neckpeices with the world, and developing a proper collection.

 

Somewhere amidst giggles and girly chit-chat, we discussed my pet project. And I started thinking about the sea, the environment, how shells are formed, where I can find shells, how I should package these pieces and how I could make people fall in love with the sea, like I did.

shell picker

In the August of 2010, I spent a fortnight in Goa, my home. It was contemplative time, when I felt the need to head to the beach for stroll every morning. By way of habit I pocketed some shells, everytime I hit Miramar beach, my preferred walking destination.

In the afternoons, post a heavy lunch of fish-curry and rice, I'd sit and play with these shells for lack of productive things to do. By the end of that fortnight, I had about 10 neckpeices made. And no real plan about what I intended to do with them. For now, they were just my pretty little play things.

trying to collect the sea

If you see something beautiful, fill it in a bucket and take it home, where you can look at it, admire it and call it yours. That's me in the picture, age2, trying to collect the sea. The bubble burst of course when I realized the Sea is not mine to keep. So she laughed at me and kindly threw up a little souvenier I could take home, keep on my bedside table and remember her by. The little memory, was a sea shell. 

And thus I became a relentless shell collector.