womanhood

a work in progress

Category: Kholo (Page 1 of 4)

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Manic

Why are we living in the manic?
Why so busy?
Why so committed?
Why so overloaded?

Why no time to breathe.
No time to walk.
No time to laugh.

Where are we running to?

You know it’s pointless right?

Because you might show up.
But energy doesn’t lie.

So let go of the angst.
And pace it.

We’ve got a long way to go.

X
K

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Enamoured

You said it to me yesterday.
With subtlety.
But often the things you ask with subtlety are the ones that strike the realest.

Does your shine bother him?

Not the money.
Not the levels.

Just the magnificence of who you are.

And you know what.
I don’t know.
I don’t know for sure.

But I do know.
That another man was enamoured.

X
K

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Intent

The intentions.
What we started with.
Flow through.

And when we stop being true to who we are, what we really wanted, how we wanted things to go down, it shows.

In the work.
In the gravity of what we do.
In the lives we live.

It shows.

Show up.
For yourself.

Because the outcome,
Will always be better than all the bullshit compromise, the comparing, the adjusting, the navigating, all the crap, you’ve bowed down to.

Show me.
You.

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Keys Out

Somedays.
I wish.
The thoughts in my head.
Would just hit a dead end.
Switch into park.
And stop.

Engines off.

X
K

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My boys

Line up.
Line em up.

Girls all with their pretty peacock feathers.
How pretty can I look?
More than this?
Can I obliterate every fucking imperfection from myself?

So I’m good enough?

Bags under eyes.
Curves at hips.
Restless hair.
Thunder thighs that roar.

And not just that.

No seriously.
Not just that.

How can I ADEQUATELY meet your needs?
Want me to wear heels?
Don’t like my earrings?
Should I change?
For you?

Am I good enough.

We ask ourselves again and again and again.

In everything we do.

With every strand of hair kept in place.
Every diamond earring that says, “I’m So Appropriate For This”.
Every fake smile.
Every chunni pinned to perfection and every tummy sucked in with Spanx so we can breathe a little less and feel like the boys will love us now that they can’t see our tummies.

We think that is what it takes.
To meet the quota.

A room full of girls.
Who never made daddy proud.
Who never made mummy proud.
Who never made the bloody aunties proud.
Enough.

When are we going to change this?
When are you going to wake up?

This one is on us.

Wear what you want.

Walk how you want.

Love who you are.

And bloody hell, have that tequila if you want.

Be a bad girl.

Be a good girl.

Be a naughty girl.

Be a sassy one.

Be the one that makes too much money.

Or be the one who spends a lot of money.

Who cares.

Just be you sweetheart.

Just be you.

 

Xx

K

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Updates.Updates

So by the time you read this,
I might be on a different tangent.

But right now.
I’m realising how ungrateful I am.
This time last year, I hadn’t even fathomed Kholo.
And this time 6 months ago, I was sitting at a restaurant, telling my friend about how nervous I was that no one would appreciate the designs of Kholo.
I probably didn’t even have 20 followers on Instagram then.

But lately.
I’ve been obsessed.
Another sale.
God give me another sale.
God give me more followers.

And I’m ashamed.
I don’t even want to tell you this.
Because it’s down right lame.

But I’m so hungry.
Expecting Kholo to fulfill me.
To fulfill my need.

And I’m learning.
That nothing is ever enough.

I can either back off and enjoy the sweet ride of this beautiful business that is unfolding before me.

Or be a dick about it.
And piss off the universe.
And then cry and moan and whinge for nothing.

I think I need to choose Option A.

Thank you universe.
You have been so kind to me, even though I’ve been such a little shit lately.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Xxx
K

You Can’t Control Tomorrow

Hey Karishma,

Don’t step too far into the future.

Take each day, each hurdle as it comes.

Just as you promised yourself with Aru, you’d manage every problem as it came. You couldn’t anticipate all that could come. You’d do your best to be overall, but if it came, you’d be awake to it, alert to it and seek help.

Same thing with this.

You can’t foresee everything.

All the pitfalls, the bad experiences, the hurt.

You can’t save yourself from it all.

So just take each little trouble as it comes.

Solve and resolve.

But darling Karishma.

Don’t spend all your today’s moments dwelling in tomorrow unforseen problems.

You have no control over what will come.

Just do your best today.

And trust that tomorrow will be nothing short of awesome.

Be it awesome laughter and delight.

Or awesome learnings.

X

K

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On Making Art

I don’t know how you find yourself.
After you dive so deep.
How to take your feet out of the water, when your head is so deeply in.

Its like telling your body to stop falling in love when you are already in love.
Like telling a woman to stop giving birth in her final few moments.
You just don’t stop.

Running this kholo business has made me feel like that.
How do I stop dreaming about it every night?
How do I stop running to thoughts of it every morning?

I have to remind myself.
Balance. Balance. Balance.
Everything in balance Karishma.
But it’s so hard.

When I all I want to do is fall hard.
Tumble deep.
And have my lungs filled with the soulfulness of making art.

That finally.
Art that I love.
And art that women are more than willing to buy.
Hungry to buy.
Hungry to love.
Hungry to breathe in. To.

Finally.
I am alive.

X
K

Eden

A Truth Bomb, 

As my friend calls it. 

This is no place for dishonesty. 

So let me lay it out there. 

For you women. 

You readers. 

Who take my good with my bad. 
I never wanted a child per say. 

It was the done thing. 

I did it. 

Never really knowing what it might entail. 
What has transpired from that, is a real journey. 

Moments of never fully unleashing any regrets, but also moments of not loving this whole scene of baby smell and whining at all. 

Being unsure if this is my path. 

Or if I just let it happen. 
I honour and admire my mother. 

Who passed no judgement at all upon these emotions. 

She has let me feel. 

That it is simply ok. 

To feel.

How you feel. 
I’m better now. 

I have Kholo. 

Which is for me.

A making. 

 

And I have found my peace, at least for now, in the role I play in Aru’s life. 

I have found my delight. 
So moving on from children. 

I am vulnerable. 

To heights of emotions. 

To a charged sexuality when it comes to other men. 

Outside of the love bonds. 

Outside of the contract. 

Outside of the need to have and to hold. 
And I don’t know what that means. 

Don’t know how to break it down. 

How to FIX it. 
But I’m learning now. 
I’m not the only one. 

And of course, that makes me feel better. 
But. 

For now I’m a prisoner just as much as a thriving flower. 

In my own garden of Eden. 
X

K

An Ode to the Sari 

When I was little, I wanted to work at the United Nations and wear a sari everyday.

My mother introduced me to jute, hand woven fabrics and vintage silk.

My mother-in-law introduced me to chiffon, hand dying and colours that pushed me beyond cream and maroons. 

My grandmothers introduced me to soft, soft, soft cotton. Pastels and the way creases fold upon fold. 
I never liked my tummy, especially once I had started to notice it. 

Most women don’t see it. But a sari hides a tummy, simply depending on how you wear it. 

It suits some, it doesn’t suit others. 

It probably pairs itself best with women who adore it. 
A woman in a sari. 

Seems to do things to an Indian man. Or one who feels likewise. 

Stirs things. 

Commands something new. 

Makes the brows raise and the words slip from the tongue, “Ah”. 
When I started this collection, it was obvious to me that there would be saris involved. 

And there are. 

It’s just that my mum has first dibs, so you might need to wait for the next season. 
X

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