#44: Liars, Rice, and All Things Nice

in defense of atmosphere and using the good stuff

Dear reader,

I write to you this week half-alive from bed, after braving a week’s worth of migraines and a bad cold. I have just cleaned my bedroom, redone the sheets, made myself a cup of tea, lit a candle and sat down at my desk.

If I’m going to be real, I don’t remember anything that happened in September. October is going by in the blink of an eye, and the end of the year is hurtling toward me like a rogue asteroid, promising to have me face everything I could have done and repent for it. Amid intrusive thoughts, a move, a SIM card failure and my debit card acting up one week before my art show, I’ve been thrown into the deep end upside down. When things get like this, my body forces me into a break and I turn to my last holdout: atmosphere.

That’s probably why they say you need to carve time out for yourself: it’s mindful, intentional and somewhat rhetorically violent. After what feels like a lifetime, I let myself just feel my feelings, carving them out of me. I let myself feel good after a bowl of chicken broth. I let myself sweat in the persistent October heat. I let myself go nonverbal after months of being told every other hour what to email, follow up, edit, organise, cajole, beg, think, dream, hope. I let no one hear from me and felt fantastic. I indulged in moon bathing, which up until recently has sounded ridiculous.

There’s a method to the madness though: good ambience is always just down to the five senses. Beautiful lighting, home fragrance, a good bowl of sticky rice with seafood curry, clean comfortable clothes (not necessarily PJs!), light music and a book. That’s my holy grail. All five senses satisfied, the rest of me is just able to soak it in and simmer back down into my days.

The odd thing that always comforts me when I’m sick (other than ramen broth), is a clean room, the scent of lime and bergamot, and a strong Earl Grey in my best porcelain. In a previous newsletter issue, titled Things that Last, I wrote about my grandmother’s 70-year old handkerchief, still pristine save one tear. It got me thinking about things: objects, decorations, items of utility or otherwise. What makes something beautiful and something else rubbish?

Rajiv Surendra, who you might know from his portrayal of Kevin Gnapoor in Mean Girls, has a wonderful, nearly meditative video on Why You Should Use Your Nicest Things, Every Day! on his YouTube channel, detailing the beauty of wear-and-tear of his most precious objects (they range from copper pots to a leather satchel to a gorgeous tweed blazer).

While I was still in university, I had the pleasure of meeting Neil MacGregor, Director of the British Museum, when he was on a tour showcasing his book A History of the World in 100 Objects. From Stone Aged hand axes to Islamic banking credit cards, MacGregor does precisely what he says he will: tell the tale of the world through things. You can find a podcast on their project here.

Another iteration of object histories I still find myself going back to is Aanchal Malhotra’s Remnants of a Separation, exploring the stories of objects that lived through the grisly Partition of India in 1947. The slowness and considered nature of each of these entries birth new life into these objects while at once honouring their pasts - something only history and writers can do.

On a slightly related note, I was published in an anthology and recently got my very own copy! Rice, published by Bowen St. Press is a collection of a humble ingredients that ties all of us together. Deep thanks to the lovely Parth Rahatekar, who reached out and got me involved. It was so lovely to see everyone’s works compiled together so painstakingly and in the flesh! Nothing like a book in your hand and your stories typed out on paper.

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This Week’s Recommendations:

Wisdom Teeth by Aditya Sinha: Having had the pleasure of knowing Aditya, even if not closely, the one thing he has embodied ever since we met is elegance. In this article that first appeared in Mush Stories by Veer Misra, he turns to the bones that build resilience with that same effortless-feeling style.

Blankets by Craig Thompson: This one actually took me back to a bit of a dark place, because Thompson isn’t just adept at describing a situation, he takes you right to the image of the void with him. It taught me so much about the masculine, too - and put into context everything I found a bit skewed in his later work, Habibi.

Liars by Sarah Manguso: A maddening, brutally honest novel that holds onto your hands with claws of its own - even if you want to put it down, you won’t be able to. Documenting the end of a marriage in short, terse lines - this is a jaw-clenching read from start to finish. The anatomy of the novel is peppered with wounds, and careful choices that help us understand our protagonist wholly, and often subconsciously. It was a terrific read and I don’t think I’m going to be able to stop thinking about it for a while.

Something to Watch: I can’t believe I hadn’t heard of Slow Horses before, considering it’s absolutely fantastic, got four seasons up already, and stars Gary Oldman in a greasy old cop with a heart of gold character. It’s on Apple TV, and freely available.

Something to Listen to: Coulou’s Cafe Trumpet Meditations have been my go-to recently. Both me and my dog have been falling asleep to sweet dreams with this in the background, and I dare say the naps have been 10/10.

Sending you excellent vibes and grounding,

Kaav x