This weekend we went to Pondicherry to brainstorm with Neel and Supriti on how to design interiors for our new home.

They run an outfit called Ovoid Atelier and operate out of a delightful little workshop cum office which boasts of artistic pieces of work, artistic looking folks, few adopted dogs swimming in a pond and endless cups of amazing tulsi-chai.

We don’t get this kind of environment in our day’s work in Bangalore, unless you are willing to imagine your boss swimming in his imaginary pool of narcissism…

We began with sharing what we like to do at home. It turned out it was not much.

If they were to go by that, all they’d have needed to design for me would have been a bed and for Alok, a TV cabinet.

So, they modified their approach by asking us what we should be doing at home, if one day, we decided to mend our ways. No, I am just kidding! They wouldn’t suggest that –besides being intelligent and creative, they are polite kids..and Alok’s junior from school, to boot.

You see, I was an interior designer once. I had qualified for that by reading some issues of ‘Inside Outside’ and watching Karan Johar’s movies, particularly those parts shot around good-looking woodwork. No, I don’t mean Arjun Rampal. I mean, movies with shots of tasteful house-interiors with expensive furniture.

So, when we bought our first house, we designed some pieces of woodwork on our own and engaged ‘Luiran’ to execute. Going by the name, we thought they were some kind of French designers. Later, we realized it stood for Lucky and Rizwan, who, probably, would not know the difference between French and Frenchie underwear.

We flipped through several catalogues and picked things we wanted. Luiran worked with gusto to give shape to our dreams. And, finally, we plonked the various things they created around the house, each piece vying with the other to catch our attention. The tension was palpable. In human terms, it seemed like 25 Ms India contestants flaunting their wares, and hating each other with the same degree of passion.

For instance, the beautiful chest of drawers was a contrast to the dining table. While, in isolation, they were beautiful standalone pieces, they did not seem to get along well.

And then, there was the TV cabinet. It was gorgeous. And huge. It looked like a Japanese Capsule inn where people sleep in drawer-like cabinets. At that point, we thought we’d convert the disaster into a plus by calling our Japanese friends over for an Indian vacation.

To cut a long story short, we learnt that these trained designers can do a better job than us. In fact, the good ones can carve spaces out of your house, which you never even dreamt existed! So there we were, sitting with Neel and Supriti, watching with awe as they spun an art studio and a den out of nowhere. I think if I had insisted on another seating lounge they might have said,

‘No problem! We can carve out a nice space in the motor of your ceiling fan where two people can take a coffee break…’

I also learnt new words like ‘cantilever’.

I don’t know what it means. Maybe it’s just a bad word in those architect circles:

‘Can’t he lever even a single beading out of a cladding?’

As you would have guessed, I have no clue what beading and cladding mean as well.

I tried to make do with words I knew. Like ‘palette’ – that means ‘colours’. If you call it colours, you should go back to Lucky and Rizwan. If you want to work with people who know their stuff, I recommend you use designer-friendly words that do not give you away. For instance,

‘I’d like to play with a Moroccan palette for the veneers..’

If you don’t know what that means it does not matter. The bottom line is that they should view you as well-heeled, educated people with fine sensibilities.

In our case, it was even more critical since we don’t want them to figure out that we have no money to write the next cheque.

So, I am practicing on more such vocabulary. How is –

‘Can we broad-brush zen strokes to evoke a kiln-like mystic shaman ambience?’