Posts tagged ‘writing’

October 9, 2017

Wandering Wolves – I

** NEW ZINE up for sale! **
Wandering Wolves – I, the story of wolf OR-7′s journey across Oregon to California and back. First released at Christchurch Zine Fest 2017.
Two-colour double-sided riso print, A3-folds-into-A5; printed by the awesome M/K Press.

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June 19, 2016

The Table Tennis Bird.

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Short story in The Hindu/Young World, May 27/2016. Based on true events and (imagined) real bird.

April 21, 2015

A Trail of Breadcrumbs.

Witch in dystopia, fairy tale in disarray, kids on sugar and possible lurking leopard-induced deaths, in A Trail of Breadcrumbs, a two-page story for ELLE magazine, Nov 2014 issue.

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December 29, 2014

The Alphabet of Animals and Birds.

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The Alphabet of Animals and Birds, a book of illustrated collective nouns that I wrote and illustrated (yay!!!) – has just been published by Red Turtle. Its oozing with murders of crows, rafts of otters, scoops of pelicans and many other pagefuls of animals and birds – useful group names to know for the next time you meet some of these creatures!

Here’s where you can buy the book:
Flipkart | Amazon 

A few pages from the book:

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September 9, 2014

We are Leopard.

We are Leopard.
Even the oldest Leopard can only barely remember a time when she didn’t have to cross a six-lane highway to reach the watering hole.

Like the others of her kind, she is a solitary beast. She knows other Leopards – even her own cubs come and gone long ago – the way a chess player evaluates her opponents for subtlety, strategy and surprise. These are necessary tools to preserving life and limb, and to get some foodmeat to carry on for another day.

The highway screams and glares red in the distance. The oldest Leopard pads deftly from shadow to shadow.The night is the last true ally of the Wild. The humans keep trying to push back the darkness with their fires and electric lights. But they must sleep, eventually – and the night is long and patient. When darkness covers the shrinking forest, the lines between human habitation and the trees soften, blur and disappear.

The oldest Leopard pauses in an alley, choosing her next move among waves of overpowering scents and sounds. In the forest, sensory signposts are easier to read — precise and unmasked by noise. The strength of human numbers and a certain proclivity to carelessness makes for a tumbling, tangled tumult of trails which nearly mask what really matters to the oldest Leopard. There it is again… the faintest cluck of a chicken in a cage, several streets away.

As the oldest Leopard tracks down her prey, the memory of the sound guides her over the rooftops and between the shabby, thin buildings. Occasionally she passes laconic, unmistakable signs left by other invisible Leopards. She moves quietly past humans sleeping on the pavement, so close to the ground they are usually invisible even to other humans.

The chicken shop is just around the corner. The scent of stale droppings and fallen feathers is strong, making the oldest Leopard’s scarred nose quiver with expectation.

The oldest Human sits muttering in a doorway which opens out into a narrow street. His fading eyes catch the brief glint of the oldest Leopard’s gaze as she steps out of the shadows and leaps past the square of flickering yellow light towards the chicken shop. The stacked cages outside are all empty except for one with a diseased bird left to die, who clucked faintly in the night and will be swiftly dispatched by the jaws of the oldest Leopard. Having taken what she needs, she melts back into the night as quietly as she arrived.

The oldest Human witnesses the hunt, mumbles incoherently and continues to dream. He lives in the Past, in a tiny village on the edge of the Wild.

Later, licking the last of the blood off her whiskers, the oldest Leopard wonders idly about the Black Panthers of the lost Wild… mythical beasts made of shadow with eyes like the brightest of stars, seeing all — and spotted by none. She thinks on the other Leopards who hunt silently in these human cities, planning and setting into motion slow but sure changes. The signs are up. The invisible Ones shall rise out of the shadows. The revolution will happen, the Wild will come to reclaim all that was taken from it.

The oldest Leopard hopes she will live to see it.

We are Leopard, say the signs. Expect us.

February 26, 2014

On making Wet Food at Home for your Growing Kitten.

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On making Wet Food at Home for your Growing Kitten is a 14-page (yay! longish!) graphic story I wrote and drew (with Manta Ray comics) for The Obliterary Journal Vol 2, published by Blaft. The book is fleshed around everything to do with Meat, and the story explores what happens to four people (and a cat) (and a dog), love, loss and lots of foodideology.

The story really began with Brinda Baliga, who knew what she wanted (“pyoor” veg only, pliss) and what she didn’t want (anything to do with meat) and a kitten that she suddenly had to Deal With. (Then there was Mincho Mondal, a complicated nemesis gnawing on a meat-tainted toothbrush.) This is an adapt of the first thing I drew about Brinda and the Kitten (for whom wet food gets made. At home).

kit1But where the lines began to blur was with Andres and Torby Delano, the mushroom-twins. These guys sure do need a hug, in the middle of the story, and I don’t know if they got it. But you can order custom-grown mushrooms from them online, it seems.

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Things get thick and convoluted, for the how and why and what-really??! grab a copy of the book and read the story.

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January 20, 2014

Changes.

In the wake of impending oilsmoke and potential acres of tree-stumps in the country, here’s a Small Picture I made called Changes.

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This piece was published on January 3rd, 2014 in the Mint newspaper.

March 8, 2013

Spring Day Kittehs.

Some say cat memes are a ditzy attempt to understand the process of evolution in those wondrous cat beings. It could be that people have evolved. The tools used to document the days and ways of them kittehs have only increased in complexity from bits of rocks to oil paints to film cameras to photoshop. More and more people are learning to read and write just so they can absorb and produce cat memes. Through all of this, cats have appeared to stay exactly the same – after all they do have nine lives and a ridiculously high level of self-satisfaction.
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The Small Picture is best viewed in the newspaper edition of Mint, where it first appears every Wednesday. This piece was published on 6 March 2013.

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