a.ritual with arman menzies
some mornings feel less like an appointment, more like a rhythm finding you.
words by Uddipan
It was a gloomy day in Assagao. Not raining, but the clouds were heavy enough to hide the sun. I carried coffee and the thought of spending a quiet morning in conversation. Arman, calm as always, had just woken up, yet he was ready to sit across and give me his time. We are ready to brew our coffee.
He was staying at his friend Rahul’s place. The kitchen opened wide, its vintage tiles and high ceiling giving air not just to the room, but to the morning itself. It reminded me how design can create silence.
Mowgli stretched across the floor as if teaching me to pause. His ease reminded me that mornings don’t ask for rush, only presence.
On the table sat Arman’s diary, waiting for the first scribbles of the day.
The house, with its high ceilings and quiet air, carried all the headspace one could ask for to begin a beautiful morning ritual.
Design is not only in spaces, but in the headroom they create, for thoughts, for rituals, for breathing easy.
My mind went back to 2008–10, when I was in college in Bangalore. I had just picked up the guitar and was trying to form a band. That’s when I first came across Arman’s band, Goddess Gagged, and their song Sink or Swim. The video didn’t just catch my attention, it lit a spark. It made me believe I could form a band of my own.
I’ve been following Arman since then. Years later, in 2016, when I was looking for an act for 2Stroke Tour, memories of being a fan of Goddess Gagged came back so strong that I knew I had to make it happen. The band was on a hiatus, but somehow I managed to convince my friend Siddhart Basrur, their vocalist, to bring everyone together for a 7 Cities Reunion Tour.
The tour was raw; every moment, on stage and off, carried a sense of something real.
Arman, back then with his dreadlocks and his guitar, always carried a cool Bombay kid energy.
His riffs were complex, his songwriting thoughtful, his presence magnetic.
He is the kind of person you wanted around, not just for the music, but for the energy he brought into any room.
He loves good food.
On tour, it became a ritual of sorts to stop for thalis & lemon tea whenever we could. Coffee wasn’t really part of any one of our language then, except for Krishna, the bassist in the band, the one you see smiling on the video thumbnail above, had been into coffee since forever.
With his DJ career keeping him busy, his love for food and joy for travelling remain intact, unchanged.
Time flew. Almost a decade later, I still find myself crossing paths with Arman.
He has carried his aura all this while; calm, grounded, inspiring.
After our a.ritual session together, Arman bought an Aeropress and has now begun brewing his own morning coffee. It feels special to know that we’ll have more to talk about, coffee included the next time we meet.
Observations from this morning with Arman:
A diary waiting on a table can hold as much presence as a person.
A kitchen’s design sets the mood of a morning.
Pets often remind us more about slow living than people do.
The calm of an old friend feels timeless, even against changing backdrops.
It’s funny how the people who inspire us in one season of life continue to shape us in another. That’s what makes these conversations priceless.
A friend’s calm can become your ritual, long after the moment has passed.
Presenting, a.ritual with arman menzies:
