SAFFRON ISSUE 02: COMMUNE

COMMUNE

Editor in Chief Jayashree Ganesan

Managing Editor Anna Ranabijuli

Creative Director Yousuf Khan

Styling Director Yousuf Khan

Assistant Styling Director Avani Sunkireddy

Co Writing Safa Michigan

Co Writing Kushal Vajrala

Co HMUA Director Riya Mandalapu

Co HMUA Director Payson Elise

Co Multimedia Director Riya Vardhachary

Co Multimedia Director Neha Kondaveeti

Co Photography Director Ren Breach

Co Photography Director Jessie Curneal

Modeling Director Tasmuna Omar

Co Events Director Shreya Chari

Co Events Director Sanjana Pinapala

Co Marketing Director Alija Koirala

Co Marketing Director Shreya Chintala

Co Finance Director Pranjal Shelly

Co Finance Director Ila Singh

Social Media Director Divya Lohar

Assistant Writing Nidhi Chanchlani

Assistant HMUA Khushi Puri

Assistant Photography Director

Shreya Ayelasomayajula

Assistant Modeling Director

Kani Manickavasakam

staff

Alisha Gupta, Amani Ahmad

Anagha Rao, Ananya Sampathkumar, Aneesha Dandekar, Angeline Ajit, Anirudh Karunakaran, Annahita Escher, Anoushka Sharma, Asha Kalapatapu, Avani Sunkireddy, Avha Mohanty, Ayla Musharrif, Deeya Chakrabarti, Divya Nagarajan, Divya Konkimalla, Esha Bajaj, Harsha Ketavarapu, Ila

Kamath, Irene Sibi, Ishani Purohit, Ishita Singh, Jannel Hayden, Laurence Nguyen-Thai, Manalie Barot, Manisha Reddy, Maryam Khan, Mateo Ontiveros, Maya Patel, Morgan

Cheng, Mullika Pandit, Najia Sherwani, Nishika Datla, Noor Khan, Noura

Abdi, Pahul Ghumman, Pavitra Kumar, Peyton Sims, Pria Gokhale, Priyanka

Ahmed, Rafia Basheer, Raj Patel, Riya

Patel, Ria Sood, Sachi Sooda, Sadhvika, Challa, Safiyya Haider, Sannidhi

Koganti, Sarika Nana, Shikha Annem, Shilpika Pandey, Shivani Purohit, Sora Ahmad, Srikha Chaganti, Sriya

Katanguru, Sruthi Morusupalli, Tanya

Shiramagond, Tamanna Sonthalia, Tarsus Rao, Tim Chacko, Vaishnavi

Kothakonda, Vani Shah, Varsha Hari, Vennela Vattikuti, Via Ceaser, Vikram

Banga, Vy Truong, Zak Kadir

To those that believe this is the end for us, There are a lot of instances in a person’s life where time languishes and drones, but the duration of this issue was definitely not one of those occasions. Swiftly, through the relentless work of a wonderful staff and leadership Issue 02 can finally be held by loved ones, a privilege that I am so very grateful for.

Issue 02’s ‘Commune’, comes from a place of optimism, founded fear, and hazy conviction in nature for a fate unwritten. Humans and nature have been in conflict with one another in a power struggle that is not quantifiable by a measure of who is winning. We, as humans, seek prowess and advancement even at the expense of destroying the means that has given us the tools to build. Nature on the other hand functions in equilibrium, always trying to maintain harmony within its systems. The result of their collision has never been starkly pleasant or terrible, as when one grows greater, it weakens the other. Within these pages, we explore a state of camaraderie between both parties, with nature at the helm. Whether it be through understanding by humans of nature’s beauty or by sheer force, ‘Commune’ is a world in which nature will prevail.

I write this while on a river, trying to commune with nature myself. Pretending to be Thoreau at Walden pond has been a peculiar benefit of this issue and has provided me with a lot of clarity on how I would like to interact with the environment myself. So to the banyan trees and flourishing waters of the river, you have won me over again with your whims.

As you read through this edition, I encourage you to think about the way that you interact with nature: not just in a physical sense, but also emotionally. Does it rejuvenate you and make you feel seen? Does it amaze when you? Or does it scare you with its creatures and beings? Regardless of how you feel, its existence in and of itself is phenomenal and we should definitely be frightened of that.

With all my heart,

Jaya Editor in Chief

by ANNA RANABIJULI

photographer PEYTON SIMS model NEHAL SHAH layout SRIYA KATANGURU hmua JAYASHREE GANESAN stylist AVANI SUNKIREDDY & ESHA BAJAJ

With beauty comes the beholder, borne to pass judgment and deem worthiness based on norms pre-established. Those who hold the helm of beauty trends and media are given the choice of either aligning with traditional standards of beauty or creating a new narrative for artists to explore. Trailblazing entrepreneur Nehal Shah, founder and CEO of Nehal & Co., is paving the way for minority representation in the beauty industry through creating makeup for a vast array of skin tones and types. Nehal & Co. ‘s diverse range of foundation shades aims to make space for people of color when it comes to luxury makeup. We spoke with Nehal one morning about her journey as an innovator in the beauty industry.

“I kept coming back to entrepreneurship at the end of the day, no matter what. It was like I was fighting it.”

Growing up in a family of entrepreneurs, Nehal took the leap to create a brand that represented the unrepresented. Despite coming from a family of pioneers, however, Nehal had yet to see a woman in her family also delve into the realm of entrepreneurship: so she decided to be the first.

“I wish growing up, I had other female entrepreneurs around me. I grew up with my dad, my uncles, who are all entrepreneurs but not any females[…] creating this brand, I want to also be that person that people can be like, okay, I can look up to her. I can ask her any questions, things like that.”

Initially a Sports Management student at NYU, Nehal’s interest in business was evident early on. Still drawn to the sciences, however, Nehal decided to pursue a pre-medical post baccalaureate (postbacc) program at John Hopkins following her undergraduate degree. While in the post-bacc program, Nehal simultaneously discovered her love for scientific R&D, and her lack of interest in patient care. She recognized that she wanted to impact the communities that she cared about from an entrepreneurial, productfocused direction rather than a clinical one.

“...honestly, I love medicine. I worked at a dermatology lab and did a lot of research there on different products for the skin. [When there], I realized that I enjoy creating products more than being with patients. And I think that was when I truly realized that I was fighting off my natural instincts of being an entrepreneur.”

With the opportunity to intern at a dermatology lab in college, Nehal’s interest in cosmetic science was sparked. After juggling her pursuit of medicine and her interest in product development for a while, Nehal went full force into her entrepreneurial venture.

“[I was] putting so much energy into what I would now call my plan B. It just didn’t make sense… you should be putting more effort into your plan A. Yes, it’s more risky, but it’s what I actually want to do.”

With the support of her mom and other strong figures in her life, Nehal took bold steps to step away from the premedicaltrackandpursuesomethingthatshewaspassionateabout:representationintheluxurymakeupscene. She spoke to us about her deviation from her parent’s need for stability when they moved to the United States tonowonewhereshecanbelessriskaverseandbuildnewnormsforwomenintheSouthAsiancreatorspaceto

flourish.

“Just because something doesn’t work out now, doesn’t mean you can’t pivot and take it into a new direction. We are given the privilege of that. I am also in the process of getting my private flying license, which is something I have always wanted to do. I put that on pause because there were days where I was working 20 hours, but now I am able to make changes to the brand so I can pursue things that I love outside of the brand too.”

Speaking through the journey of Nehal, we discovered how Nehal uses her personal identity to reimplify purpose in her brand, Nehal & Co. When building Nehal & Co. Nehal spoke about how her health and complexion were key elements in inspiring her business.

“When starting Nehal & Co., I was actually going through something with my health, and I think it was like two years before that I was diagnosed with a chronic condition. There was a time where my symptoms got much worse, so it became difficult for me to feel confident and to go out, hang out with my friends, simple things like that. That’s when I turned to makeup. When I went shopping for new makeup, I came home so excited to try everything on. But I quickly realized a lot of it just did not work on my skin tone and undertone. I thought that I can’t be the only one that feels this way.”

In her exploration of identity and confidence, she saw how colorism deeply affects communities in the way they perceive themselves and their self confidence. With a history of colonialism and Western beauty, colorism can be as not being able to recognize the lack of color distribution in prod- 8

ucts for people of color and the lack of equal opportunity to wear makeup that suites skin tones and types without compromise. From experiences in her own childhood of wearing ill-fitting dance makeup shades on stage to now, Nehal and her team take extra care in creating a platform to represent the unrepresented starting from the base up.

“Most makeup products function on the Fitzpatrick Scale based on skin tone. The lower range of the scale, lighter skin tones, are what people usually start testing on. We try to start from the higher end of the spectrum and go down so we know for sure our products work for darker skin tones.”

In the future, Nehal & Co. plans on moving forward in establishing hair care and skin care lines that explore the wide range of hair types and skin types to provide better care for people of color. Creating a brand that enables the ease of luxury to a wide audience has been the vision for Nehal.

“Seeing Nehal & Co. in a Bloomingdale’s or Saks would be where we would want to go, to be a staple in the luxury market scene. I want our products to be innovative and solve a problem that we are facing, especially in this market.”

In terms of what Nehal has in mind for her mission, she will continue to think about inclusion in her product design. Identifying gaps in skincare and makeup and creating a

brand that brings innovation to life for communities of color is the forefront of Nehal & Co.’s future in the beauty industry. To Nehal, this means creating an avenue for people to feel good about themselves with ease.

As the helm of the beauty industry gets passed to the hands of innovators and trailblazers that want to solve unique problems with unique solutions, we continue to wonder what comes next for the eye of the beholder. But one thing is for sure, we have hope for a future for luxury that includes a wider definition than the status quo starting with the basis of it all: the lens we view ourselves. ■

layout ASHLEY LEE photographer JESSIE CURNEAL stylists VIKRAM BANGA, MARYAM KHAN, & YOUSUF KHAN models AVHA MOHANTY & TASMUNA OMAR hmua RIYA MANDALAPU, ISHA MANJUNATH, & PAYSON KELLEY

by KUSHAL VAJRALA

Leela had to remind herself to breathe properly. Any violent outbursts, and who knew how the Automatons would react.

“Wasn’t my brother enough? How many others must sacrifice themselves, for this pursuit of ‘science’?”

The Princess’ excited look quickly transitioned to one of anguish, shame, and then hardened. “Such is the price of progress. A world where a comically small bit of hydrogen is needed for everyone. No need to bother with air, food or water. All of our body’s needs met.”

The subtle eagerness in her voice twisted Leela’s stomach, and unpleasant memories rose like bile. She began speaking in the quietest tone possible, so as to not trigger the Automatons.

“Me joining the protests wasn’t enough of an answer for you? You had me removed from school, and I had to join the factories with what little experience I had. I don’t need your pity. I’m making a living.”

Her companion opened her mouth to speak, but Leela cut her off. “How many fucking people have to die? Before your pet project with longevity can be deemed finished?”

The disdain flowed hot from the Princess. “You’re fortunate enough to have the luxury of saying that. Every single technological advancement has benefited our kingdom’s people. They lead much easier lives than before. And when you come to help me finish our project, they can live better than ever.” Now, it was her turn to cut Leela off.

“You have mods that help you carry heavy weights and ensure that your belongings aren’t stolen. They help you access every public amenity we have to offer. They convenience your life in every way, shape, and form possible.”

“Sure, Your Highness, but you are killing us in an effort to save us.” A sudden cough shook Leela, and she punctuated her point with another glob of black phlegm at the Princess’ feet. The Automatons perked up, and they stood down with a wave from their master. A slight grimace, and a few quiet moments passed before the Princess spoke again.

“This isn’t my fault! When will you understand? I didn’t start using oil, but my father did. I didn’t popularize this pollution, my father did. I hate it. I am trying to save us, but why are you so intent on not helping me?”

“First, it was my brother. Then, it was the tsunami.” Leela knew she had the upper hand from her partner’s expression. “Yes, people talk. The explosion that rocked the hydrogen plant you had installed in the ocean is why almost ten percent of our population died. This is you saving us, right?”

“A rogue random error, that surprisingly, taught us more about the applications of hydrogen that five years of research wouldn’t have done.”

Disgust and shame filled both Leela and the Princess, respectively. She waited, but neither of them seemed likely to budge.

“I take it you’re not going to accept the offer?”

“No, Your Highness.”

They departed silently. Leela pondered on her brother and the tsunami. She wondered how they would be punished next. ■

The Sitayana

By Pria Gokhale

The Ramayana is an ancient Sanskrit epic which tells the story of its titular hero, Rama, as he embarks on a quest to rescue his wife Sita from the clutches of a demon king, Ravana. Found in a furrow as an abandoned child, Sita is popularly referred to as the daughter of Bhumi, or Mother Earth. The Sitayana retells the epic from Sita’s perspective, giving voice to one of the many women who populate the world of the Ramayana with a rich, worthy story of their own. In this version, we experience the story’s fabled tribulations through the only character who endures kidnapping and imprisonment at the hands of the villain, but also Agni Pariksha, a test of purity by fire, at the hands of our beloved hero. In her fight against Ravana and Rama, Sita’s inner nature and relationship with the earth are both fundamentally altered. In spite of all she is forced to endure, she removes herself from the unrelenting subjection by blossoming into a bolder woman and capitalising on her communion with the natural world.

photographer PEYTON SIMS | stylists ESHA BAJAJ, MARYAM KHAN model DIVYA NAGARAJAN hmua VARSHA HARI, SHIKHA ANNEM layout KAUSHIK KALIDINDI

I close my eyes and let the land hold me I revel in the ways my body fits this earth a nose curved like the root of a banyan a lifeline carrying oxygen to its source each hue of brown a blessing from the sun and his careful love

For me, the sky erupts with monsoon

For me, each cricket sings an ancient song

For me, Jayatu waits perched on the edge of the heavens to carry seeds and safe

In the forest you will find me rooted where the canopy threads every rock, stream, and being into one and the same

Yet here they trample

Under the guise of promise

Each blessing unrooted wrestled from my furrow Plant gardens of hurt that will not unseed And while pain rivers through me relentlessly

I ask you Have I not given enough?

My transformation borne in this crucible of suffering You will extol me for all I have sacrificed I have become of sanctity and strength

In smoke and shroud I singe my story and speak with the voices of she who has been silenced

Like the soft earth from which I came I mold myself anew timeless and unburdened I return to the place of all that I am This forest holds its people so its people may hold each other

Sita to those who hold the plow of their destiny

layout LAURENCE NGUYỄN-THÁI photographer JESSIE CURNEAL stylist SORA AHMAD & SACHI SOODA hmua KHUSHI PURI & SRIKHA CHAGANTI models NOOR KHAN & ALISHA GUPTA

Cast Away, We Cast

Cast Hexes

by SAFIYYA HAIDER

layout JULEANNA CULILAP hmua SADHVIKA CHALLA, PAYSON KELLEY, ARIA MAKAN, ISHANI PUROHIT photographer ANNAHITA ESCHER stylists VENNELA VATTIKUTI, NAJIA SHERWANI, ESHA BAJAJ models MARYAM KHAN, SANNIDHI KOGANTI, J HAYDEN, ZAK KADIR

In limestone shadows I’m lost I find a child MY GIRL SELF coated in clotted blood

10 years underground earth’s leper Hazel eyes yellowed into a cat’s glow

They say I can’t feel pain. But I thirst for men’s blood she bites

fangs indigo with otherworldly rot from the realm of unchained jinn where IBLIS IS OUR FATHER Jannah’s leper

I bring her nightshade the only food she eats death-bent

I. We dance loose-limbed—puppets-of-the-sky

II. We light candles

III. We pick poisonous flowers All to hex the man who separated us.

{Iamtumblingthroughthepsychologicaltundraofsexualtrauma. Don’t ask me for how long.}

Let’s build a sapphire home in anesthetic water and live there forever

where no man can touch us where no man touched us NO MAN’S LAND

{In this negative dimension before time and space, I meet my mothers’ mothers and the men who scourged our land for diamonds and chai leaves they cannot read.}

I KEEP PULLING BODIES OUT THE INDUS RIVER spilled into the Colorado theylook theylookatme theylooklikemymother’smothers

I cup my hands for wudu but find an uprooted eye, whites kajal-blackened / crucified hands with a circle of henna and a hole impaled / singed hair flocculent / spells the bog subsumed

I can’t stitch myself together I-stitch-them-together.

We survive on wildflowers and wither, drinking bog water Only they speak my language of the dis em bo di ed float ing be tween psychic prisons and prayer prayer for the Pleiades to abduct us

eli eli lamma sabacthani Allah, Allah, why have you forsaken me?

{In this enchanted karst world, I sleep on cold stone floors to remind me I’m human.}

you cupped your palms like dua’a caught a firefly for me I AM THE FIREFLY no one will believe that black-outs anti-fairy tales of a child

Look at the person you made me: mud-faced bear-breathed gargoyle-hearted greenery gnarled in my eyes I’m lost in time with only the bat migrations yoking me.

{My childhood bedroom is haunted. How could you recite Allah’s poetry and desecrate me?}

Who will pray my janazah?

This last civilization has sinned forgetting my deformed corpse expelling it to sodden forest where magical mushrooms grow out of my back roots rip from my feet lifting off the ground I AM CURSED.

I want my name. I want to be pure.

If Iblis is my father the Mountain Cedar trees are my million mothers. In the thunderstorm emptying children from puddles I ask them for their fruits, sun’s breastmilk yes. O Punjaban, Daughter of Five Waters Thank you. Salam

Lightning! I AM ELECTRIC. MY BLOOD IS BIOLUMINESCENT.

I.May all that’s black in me be upon you.

II.May you reap what you sowed. carnivorous plants III.May you be castrated inshAllah.

In the cave all my bodies and I dance barefoot in mud and geosmin. We remember when we were one, before we were born. We are past lives healed with bluebonnets and limestone grinded to salt. They lift me on their shoulders we chant entranced

in the occult language of trees and fire

Lunatic nocturnal birds sing Qawwali and I know our suffering has an end.

CURSE YOU

{The portal out of this arboreal unreality glows. I touch its warmth. Then the trees fall.}

THEY EXCAVATE OUR HOME

They say I’m alone and insane

They laugh at my whisper and three-tongued accent

But I can see visions you can’t!

IknowI’melectric.Theycan’talienatemefromthefull-moonedsky. I hear women’s hyena laughter! The eyes in my wild Medusa hair watch the undead!

A’oodhu. I seek refuge.

I can’t seek refuge in courthouses that aren’t my home. I find refuge with my mothers!

I’ve Lost So Much Don’t Ask Me Any More Questions

the dust on this body that isn’t mine you tried to steal is holy

I AM DIRTY AND DIVINE THE CURSE IS BROKEN.

GLOSSARY ISLAMIC

jinn otherworldly beings made from fire

Iblis Satan before he fell from heaven

Jannah heaven

Salam peace, a Muslim greeting and farewell

inshaAllah God willingly

A’oodhu I seek refuge. A’oodhuBillah, “I seek refuge with Allah”, is a Muslim litany

CULTURAL

Kajal traditional black eyeliner that protects from the evil eye

Punjaban Punjabi girl. Punjab means “land of five waters” in Farsi.

Qawwali Punjabi Sufi devotional singing (ex. Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan!)

a mimicry of self-created sculptures on human life

layout VIA CEASER photographer VIA CEASER stylist AVANI SUNKIREDDY hmua KUSHI PURI RIYA MANDALAPU & models TIM CHACKO & DIVYA KONKIMALLA nails ANOUSHKA SHARMA

imposing rebirth amongst those that belittle its might.

Vessels of chaos that collect tarrifs at river banks next to homes unbeknownst of their faculty, the waters wait to be angered to collect their tax.

So to those that don’t know of their destruction and can reside in the privilege of peace, know that the waters bade their time

by ANAGHA RAO

layout COLIN CANTWELL photographer SHREYA AYELASOMAYAJULA stylists MULLIKA PANDIT, SACHI SOODA, & IRENE SIBI

hmua SHILPIKA PANDEY, PRIYANKA AHMED, & ISHANI PUROHIT models ANANYA SAMPATHAKUMAR, AYLA MUSHARRIF, & TAMANNA SONTHALIA

they say skin glitters in the sun they pull their sleeves off expose their hearts press their flesh flush against their clothes and glitter their arms intertwine her nails rake his golden hair, and their eyes touch their smiles become one their shirts flutter open, and i freeze but they’re free

Istifle a gag. How inappropriate. I pull down my pant legs. I was raised properly. Squeezed into textbook spines. Spit into greatness. I was here for a reason. I couldn’t let the sacrifices that built me blow in the wind. They’re a second skin, threading my veins – skeins of gold, invaluable. They had to be grounded: staked in the earth, shoved into boxes. Freedom wastes time. Shame yields success. I was raised to be hidden. From the shadows, I will emerge victorious. I couldn’t wonder about how the wind kisses my neck – how warmth caresses my shoulders. Sunlight shatters shadows.

Threads snap under tension. I soon grow into my mother’s hips. My threads become barbed wire. Foronce, my clothes cut into me. My shorts are nearly swallowed whole by my thighs. I instinctively try to hide. I promise I’m more than this! My breath cinches my throat. I can’t breathe, but I haven’t forgotten! I pull at my shirt, but I still can’t breathe. It all feels so mechanical.

Pull.

Pull.

Pull.

I collapse, trying to shrink myself to how I was, but the barbs have tethered me to the ground. The moon is out now – an amber smile. I watch her glow deepen and rotate. Is she grimacing at me? Watching as I let myself be suffocated. I yearn to scrape my mind of myself. Discard the ash and insecurity and anxiety. There’s a nugget of light embedded – one that yearns for my freedom. Yearns to pry open the bars of this imposed cage and stretch – stretch into a new era of sensuality with my Western friends. I sink my hands into my mind, rip the skeins from my flesh and gasp: copper! My suffering was for nothing!

In hiding, I shrunk myself. I shrink from my bare shoulders. Flinch at the reflection of my refracting curves. I pore over every dip, every bump. I’ve been suffocated for so long that I forgot how breathing felt like.

she loses herself in her pools of honey for eyes her glistening blouse catches the light and cascades an exhibit of luster her dupatta is a friend of the wind, trailing alongside it they say skin glitters in the sun, but she is the sun her nails rake through her luscious waves she smiles at her reflection for the first time her ghagra flutters up, but she pays no heed she’s finally free

We used to be free, but somewhere along the way, we started to look down on freedom. Freedom comes with risk – show people too much and they use it against you. Our families came from worlds where freedom invited harm. Breathing showed the breathless that you could, and they would do anything to breathe. Gropes on bus rides taught our mothers lessons. Shame yielded safety for their young girls. They couldn’t put it in as many words because their mothers couldn’t. We were young and didn’t understand. We internalized shame that wouldn’t be due for several years for other young girls. Our bodies were merely skin suits, holding minds that would find a way out of this hell hole. But we’re not in Hell anymore. We have space to breathe. Our people have faced too much hardship to inflict more upon ourselves. We owe it to our future to be free. ■

creative direction VY TRUONG layout MATEO ONTIVEROS photographer MATEO ONTIVEROS stylists YOUSUF KHAN & SORAAHMED hmua JAYASHREE GANESAN & ANOUSHKA SHARMA model MORGAN CHENG