The Orbit makes mouse-movements fun. Makes me want to download IOGraph again.

There is a near-divination-like quality to how the forefinger-middlefinger-trackball operates. I pretend (in my head, I’m not that confident yet to be seen as an odd character at the business-casuals-weekly-standups-type workplace setting) to be dealing with bezier-spirits and calling on them to help deal with filled-to-the-brim layouts and unwieldy InDesign files and curves that change direction without telling you.

I bought this on a whim, having decided to experiment with input devices. My tool-use had gotten boring towards the end of last year. Now every trip to the menu bar feels like a mini-adventure.

It is not as accurate as the Logi Lift. Or perhaps I am not as accurate with it as I am with the Lift, yet. It is predictably inaccurate, though.

I have come to appreciate predictable inaccuracy after living with the Huion-with-its-own-mind for almost a year. The inherent newness of the trackball-led mousing is the only reason this device ‘feels’ inaccurate—is what I think. And that is something one can learn to deal with. It is like knowing how a certain hardware component has its quirks (predictable quirks, even if temperamental) on a device (or a tool or a vehicle) that you use everyday. (Podimol has a heavy clutch that needs a gentle pulling-out every 3/4 presses. That has now become muscle-memory and works well. The front brakes on my FourCorners sqeal once evry two/three rides and needs me to keep the lever half-pressed—like I am autofocusing them—for half-a minute so they stop.) The Orbit needs lasersharp focus working with bezier curves and text editing or anything that involves x-and-y-axes movements at the same time. The general accuracy one needs to work with for such tasks naturally maps to moving the trackball. It is nice how that trains your hand to be sensitive to small movements, too. Unlike the Huion, the Orbit doesn’t randomly ‘jump’ pixels at will especially when you are hyperfocused and making precise small movements. The clicks are not tied to the cursor movement, so the little jerks-on-click are no longer a thing.

The tablet feels actively hostile while the trackball feels like a challenge one needs to (and can) step up to.

The best use-case for the Orbit (or any trackball device, apparently) is with multiple displays and a less-than-ideal desk setup. The mouse doesn’t need to move around for the cursor to move, leaving a lot of area on the desk free for junk-accumulation and ‘research.’ Or just junk accumulation called research. The Orbit covers a lot of screen real estate with simple short flicks of the trackball and scrolls independently with the the scroll wheel. (The scroll wheel isn’t as fancy as the ones on an MXMaster or even the lift—no free-flow-scroll, no ‘weight’ to the scroll for it to ‘feel’ like quality—but works reasonably well with finer control than a typical vertical wheel.)

What I miss are the customisable buttons. Unlike the Lift or the tablets, there are no ‘extra’ buttons to help with ‘reverse/forward’ or ‘sideways-scroll’ or ‘snap-to-grid on/off’ on the Orbit. There is a two-button combo one can activate via the KensingtonWorks software, but that means leaving yet another input-tracker running in the background all the time.

This is from the smokingbalconey at River HQ, looking out into the SAP parking lot. I’d hang out in the passive-smoke cloud to look at this beauty allover March. Almost all pink flowers have fallen leaving the violet ones in the air. (The image will take longer than usual to load because I haven’t compressed the living daylight out of the colours. Joke, laughs at own, etcetera.)

Shot this one with the kit 16–50 mm (with an effing hyphen on the lens) and ‘Auto’ corrected in Camera Raw.

I am riding way more than I did in ’24. Commuting almost religiously by bike, thanks in no parts to certain rings that need closure. (More on that later. I wasn’t too wrong to wait till Series 10; I was wrong to not look into the ecosystem benefits earlier.) In trying to pack light (or none at all) I am relying more than ever on cloud storage and subscription fees. Interesting how lightening some loads always end up adding some somewhere else. I am stopping less often yet smelling more roses on the way. In true JustRide spirit, packing a raincoat instead of excuses. The mudguards are back on, with some less-than-aesthetic fasteners this time. Feels nice that I don’t seem to care anymore. Signs of wisdom—or just age.

The Brookefield roads are potholy but not with a set-dosa sort of frequency. The traffic is bearable enough (way better than the private bus hell that is Kozhikode) and geography is apologetic enough not to leave me a sweaty mess at 8 AM 9AM 10AM.

We got some Chandigarh-adjacent chairs almost too late and have lovelier longer conversations over food. Next time we do this, the first investments in a new place will be comfortable chairs and dinnerware. The cost to benefit ratio needs no second thoughts.

Tabebuias above a semi-legal tea shop in Brookefield. The season is winding down. Straight off the 7Artisans 18mm f6.3 lens. Focusing on this is an exercise of its own. The images have that ‘almost conspicouosly inconspicuous’ quality that I really like. It is like a self-aware ‘meh.’

The sunset is behind me, reflected off Glass panels on the Capgemini building. I’ll shoot a better/prettier picture on Tuesday, from the smokingbalcony on HQ second floor. The SAP parking lot has a beautiful specimen.

River Factory office signs. Signage modules with G. Icons from a project with KV. Typeset in Söhne from KLIM. The walls need a coat of paint.

Was on a ladder from 8 on Monday pasting these up. Very last minute rush. I made a copypasta in Kannada, nobody proofread, and that messed up some signs. The supplier messed up finishing and missed (perhaps unintentionally) the matte lamination layer. All this for some nothing. I really liked the picture of the two floating room signs.

Zfc, Auto, 1/100, F6.3, ISO3200

Zfc, Auto, 1/125, F6.3, ISO1250

Update: M points out that Jhelum should start with ‘jha’ and not just ‘ja.’ Thank you.

Last week, our noname snap-off cutter broke. I tried prying its locking mechanism open to see what it was that’d stopped working. After a bunch of misguided bruteforce attempts, I remembered patience and coconut oil. It took a while to pull the parts apart and pull the stuck blade back in, yet the disassembly did not offer any clues to fixing what was clearly broken. The mechanism inside most retractable blade cutters is a simple folded piece of metal that works like a spring (when it does) and keeps the blade from sliding in when it isn’t meant to be. The one inside this noname sample looked rusty; a shadow of its former flexible self. After a few futile attempts at revival I gave up and started looking for the easy way out via the epitome of twentyfirstcentury fixes to almost everything: one-day-express-delivery.

The Stanley 0-10-018 arrived today as I was helping wrangle some text into shape (and cracking some too many lame jokes over G-Meet) for River’s Copy Guidelines. Thus it took another five hours before I tore into the packet and this beauty presented itself. (Ru had come to visit for this was Holi-eve. We drove her home since Uber had other plans.) The Stanley opens unlike most cutters (that I have had the misfortune of acquantance-ing) into two halves as you loosen the yellow turnkey. The two halves grip the blade in a vice-like strong hold when in use. When not in use, the closed halves make sure the blade doesn’t accidentally slide out on its own. Each part has lovely detail. The metal feels substantial against your palm in a way that ‘industrial’ products only can. (I’m reminded of the Peacock Teal Green Classic 500 from ten years ago. The metallic flakes in the paint perhaps helps.)

The thing itself is chefskiss-well-built but what caught all my attention was the namesake packaging all of this was holding on to. The cutter holds—showing off its formfollowingfunction—the die-cut piece of plastic between its (the cutter’s not the plastic-piece’s) heavy metal halves, with a tiny blade-drawing sticking out with its tongue firmly in its cheek. This was delightful to look at, made even better by the almost absurd volume-contrast between the content-slash-object and its ‘container.’ To top the cherry, the only way one could take out this piece of ‘packaging’ was by unscrewing the two halves and pulling, teaching one most of the ‘how-to’ in the process. That, in my corner of Tabebuia-carpeted Bengaluru, is what we call brilliance. The piece of paper/plastic itself is well-crafted. The material choice (neither paper, nor glossy plastic), the illustration (all-business, no frills), and the copy (all information, no discombobulation), and even the subtly round-cornered die-cuts; everything—everthing—works well together to make you happy.

I’ve had an Olfa Circle Cutter since Paldi. I’d accidentally got smitten at Roopkala one day and eventually cut a lot of circles out of foam board for multiple exhibitions I was freelancing for. (I had no idea circle cutters existed. I had no reference for how much they cost.) We recently ‘invested’ in an Olfa cutting mat via Goodwill Enterprises. I have slowly come to see value in spending time and effort on well-built (and in this case, well packaged as well) everyday tools. I realise it was always money—and the lack of it most of the time—that delayed this realisation.

That conveniently, bitter-sweet-ly, brings me to March of 2014. We started working out of #6BCB eleven years ago. KL11 is eleven this month. I managed to print some basic T-shirts from Decathlon a couple of weeks ago and been cycling through the colours everyday. (To the understandable annoyance of R who got me a tasteful thrift-stored MUJI coord set via Janpath last week.) The brand team at River surprised us with a layercake today. As usual, we (M and I) were caught somewhat lost in the moment and the photo-slash-video-graphic evidence is telling. That too (not our lack of obvious reaction, but their gesture), made me happy today, among other things/people.

Grateful, etcetera.

After an unusually long wait and umpteen phone calls, the GAS67 arrived yesterday while I was out paying someone to wash Podimol. The budget-ness shows in its material choices but I say that only because the K2V2 seems slightly better built; not because I know what impeccable aerospace grade plastic on a keyboard flexes like.

In the picture are the BinePad BNK9 with all kinds of switches thrown in and to the right is the well-loved Logi Lift. (You can tell by the oilspill on its side.) I’m never going back to regular mice as long as I can.

The switches are mostly red (Gaterons), peach (Akkos), and black (also Gaterons). it is nice (in a way that surprises me everytime I type on it) and soft and silent. I am making typing mistakes more often though. I think the XDA profile caps are a little too flat to give you any tactile feedback on which row you’re on. (Or I believe that is what is happening.) They look nice though.

The 67 key layout has its problems, too. The K2V2 is 75% and has all the necessary keys for work. The Tilde on the GAS67 here is all the way to the other end on the top right and switching between files isn’t that easy anymore. I believe the multicolour Apple makes up for that inconvenience in style points.

There are no media keys so I’ve Karabiner-ed the PgUp and PgDn keys to work as media buttons (and a Complex Modification to convert them to volume keys on Shift-modifying). It will get better with time, I hope. The function key is still hardware-bound and doesn’t show up in the Karabiner-EventViewer. Will need to figure out something, or use CIY’s keyboard tool on a PC to switch that out to report some other keystroke.

This was my first time assembling a keyboard, so bent a couple of pins on a couple of switches. Most I’ve bent back since. I am guessing that won’t affect stuff in the long run as long as I don’t keep switching them around. (Laughs at own joke.)

I haven’t used this for work work yet. Not sure if going back to blue switches is something I’ll decide on yet. I miss the clickiness of them switches, though. The feedback was nice to have. These are creamy and feel effortless but that maybe why there are more spelling mistakes now than before. Like B said, I don’t usually have buyer’s remorse even in the face of light evidence.

Poppy’s hair has already found its way onto the board. I guess that means she’s accepted into the family now.

2024 was a good-ish year. Can’t complain.

In December (right before Christmas) we brought Poppy (on the name, footnote) home from a shelter near Bannerghatta. She started at a ’year old’ and now we know—from teeth-based evidence—is a malnourished one and a half year old. She was perpetually hungry and it broke our hearts to see that. She’s up for food anytime even now, but knows there will be enough and on time and is calmer in general around things we eat. At night the bed isn’t enough anymore and on winter nights we don’t complain.

Now there is just enough floor between all the fur to build a third puppy or evenly distribute over everything in the wardrobe. We prefer the first but settle for the wardrobe thing.

The one in the air in a blur is Poppy. She’s lighter and easier to lift but goes bonkers after exactly three seconds in the air. Chellam with her Bauhaussey collar isn’t as amused by the whole setup as I am.

We (KL11 and recently R) had a fulfilling year at work. We made a ‘corporate’ book about people at River. Will post some pictures later. R took soul-filling photos of people working at the factory. (Everybody smiled.) I went to some ‘events’ and was miserable after. I went to some other ‘events’ and wanted to go to more, after.


I’ve realised work isn’t the focus this year. Not the kind that brings in money, anyway. I’ve decided to work from home more often.

The year was an absolute disaster for reading. I started more books and finished few. Much fewer than usual. It isn’t that I’m older and okay-er with not finishing books; just that I was too distracted to see things through. I’ll replace the void left by two underwhelming Kindles with a Kobo, once I get through the five books on the proverbial nightstand. (Suggestions welcome on which one to spring for. I’m more interested in the more pocketable/pocket-friendly Clara.) There is a thread on Threads from Kobo’s CEO that sold me on the company and a bunch of podcasts later, the feelings hold true-r. (There are a new set of podcasts I’m listening to, mostly while cleaning the house and its utensils, and sometimes when waiting for snoring to set in. Will share a list too.)

R is home alone with the kids most days and that is not okay. So I’m testing alternate WFH days and fifty-fifty days till we find a solution.

I am cycling more. (Or at all, finally.) Driving to work always reminded me of that tiffin-box frame from Sarnath Banerjee’s Harappa Tales (there is a single-person sitting in a disproportionately huge SUV with a single tiffin box in the rearview mirror) and it is getting increasingly difficult to find parking spots for Podimol at the HQ anyway. The other day, I’d diagonally parked outside, between the drain, an excuse for a garden, and a silver-grey KIA. The misalignment drove me angry till other unimportant store-construction measurement fiascos took over that duty for the day. I’ve got some band-less toe-cages and UV-shielded sleeves off Decathlon and have upgraded to the ultimate cycle-riding fashion statement with Sandals+Socks per Rivendell. And there is now a long overdue bar-bag on the handlebar that has fundamentally changed the way I worry about losing phones/earphones from pant-pockets, forever. I think I waited too long trying to justify another Ortleib only to fail and wisen up. The ride is a fifteen minutes thing (sometimes less, sometimes more, depending on how well the little traffic near Nallurhalli Metro behaves). It is pleasant-adjacent especially this time of the year, and I hope more riding will make it more pleasant in the summery months. In the interest of worklifebalance, I’m trying to ride as light as possible, but packing light isn’t always feeling right.

Last year I wasted a whole bunch of time doomscrolling OTT platforms. This year I’ve added TV+ to the list in hopes of getting rid of everything else. I know; logic, etcetera.

There are new input devices on the way. I threw some money at a GAS67 barebones and a Kensington Orbit WL. Can’t wait to build the keyboard and see how a static mouse feels. Then I’ll write a series of posts on all the slightly weird input devices I love. (Input tools [including the ink and paper variety] decide and often define how unique one’s work is and I want to experiment and not feel old.)

Speaking of age. I also want to cook (and eat) better. Numbers from a recent blood-test was a great reality-check and one of the ways to deal with those numbers seem to be eating well. We got an Instant AirFryer and instant air fry a whole bunch of things now. The coconut oil can is sleeping in a corner. Like all great cooks, R doesn’t like me in the kitchen when she’s in the zone. I believe I also want to feel what that feels like (being in the zone, not the being out of the zone) and be more present like her.

This was the year I invited more people home than ever. (I don’t say ‘we’ because R has always had great friends.) And I see why that is a good thing. More this year.

On the name: Poppy is spelt that way to avoid copyright fights with the umbrella manufacturer. And she reminds me of a Poppy pod. Apparently she was just the generic ‘puppy’ as she was being rescued from a miserable place, and the name stuck and morphed into Poppy. She responds to most words that end in a ‘ppee’ now but we figured we’ll keep the name and help erase everything else about her past eventually. Fingers firmly crossed for that.

There is something about the kitchen that invites intimacy. I suppose kitchens are a space for intimacy because I will touch with my hands the things that will go in your mouth; I will taste what you taste; I will work for you, or you will work for me. I will make this for you because I love you, because you need it, because you want it.

— Ella Risbridger, Cupboard Love

R makes soul-filling food even when she’s not trying. This passage made me so happy I had to interrupt her cooking (which is a big NO otherwise; she has a zone she gets into, cooking) and make her read.

It is incredible, almost absurdly so (and a cliched thing to bring up), how the simplest of dishes take on levels of delicacy that should be illegal, when gifted people cook. The other month I was having some curdy salad she’d packed for lunch and was certain there was something extralong about the ingredient list till I was told—later—that there wasn’t.

The passage is from an anthology-type book I found at Champaca some weeks ago, called In the Kitchen. The book has some slow-cooking writing. R and I are making our own cookbook. (It is mostly her; I’m picking stock and working layouts.) By next year. Fingers firmly crossed.

This is R outside Jaswant Thada, Jodhpur. That (teaching) trip was a lifesaver. More on that later.

The L-grip that came with my camera has a 1/4"-20 tripod-thread on the side, for convenient vertical videography. A large percentage of the stuff (images and videos) the media team at River creates, are 1080×1920 versions of whatever they would have made otherwise. Looks like the world has moved on from appreciating landscapes to indulging portraits on screens full time.

I also realise—with not a small amount of concern—that it is only a matter of access (neither choice, nor philosophical or otherwise stance) before the floodgates of narcissism-slash-comparison bursts in to drown out our lives. (We recently got a KL11-phone to look at messages sent via WhatsApp groups. The phone has KL11’s Instagram account signed in.)

The lack of room for peripheral vision feels worse than blinding.

PS: I was reading NickAsbury’s latest ThoughtsOnWriting column discussing billboards (public advertisement). We make a lot of billboards (sometimes lovingly called ‘hoardings’ in emails that forget to turn on the doublespeak) to sell the Indie to unsuspecting victims of traffic and shopping. The ones that S and H work on are beautiful, well-made, fun even. The ones that I used to make were pages from books disguised in cloth-flex. I am used to pointing out how in most cities, the bill-board-ed folks are the only people smiling at you. The point is that we contribute to the clutter and the incessant nudging and the noise that one cannot turn off. Wondering what my penance could be.

I asked R to photograph some print samples for a thing I’m doing. Then it was a low-ish moment of recognising how the world has moved on from one-frame compositions to everything-moving compositions as a way to showcase work. I was looking at type contract, expand, and move in splines around 3D rendered figurines over fields of Fuchsia and IK Blue. I asked R if I have gotten too old, too dated for what is considered nice work today in the field. It was a moment of self-doubt that I’m not too used to sharing. As she recalls (correctly) I’m (was) fairly arrogant when it came to work in general, and detail in particular. So, this was new and uncomfortable. I was looking at all the recent stuff I’ve made and the tools I’ve made those with, and realising that the scope has shrunk from when the foundation studio wasn’t a distant memory coated in LGBs and pencildust. The scope has shrunk, and the fun has too, perhaps. I don’t know whom to blame. I don’t think I hate the daily stuff I work on, even when it is largely insignificant and ad-hoc and automated and plain. I find joy in figuring out small things for small ends. I obsess over details perhaps as a way to establish a misguided sense of control and purpose. I don’t read as much as I used to. I don’t actively listen to music the way I used to. I can’t remember the last time I rode the bicycle not to work or to run an errand.

We had a lovely dinner today, with H and a bunch of experimentally coloured cats for company. We ordered a lot of stuff because all of it was lovely. The place was not quiet but well furniture-d and open. We spoke about many things and books and people and places. I went down my go-to rabbit holes about significant teachers etcetera. (On that note, the faculty page at IIT-J’s Design School has a link to a Google Form. It has these two sentences. “Some teachers can have a lasting impression on us. They can inspire us with their thoughts, their stories, their respect and care for us, or some such action…” and “What did you like about them? How did they inspire you? What was special about them? How were they different from other teachers? Did they only teach or did they become friends?” I think that is an awesome way to find people. I was looking at the website after sharing this year’s material- and reading lists for the TDM course. The folks there—Ga and Pr in particular—have managed to do an excellent job of planning stuff, again. In contrast, I received a call on Friday from one of the NIDs for a BGD course early next month. Facepalm indeed.)

I’ve put an alarmingly short list of tools together. There is little variety. The list used to be much more eclectic and fun, especially in the software department. Now it is an apple orchard with few interesting species in between. I’m not sure if it is a sign of things stabilising over time or a sign of too much overtime.