a mother's wait

the eyes are full - black
no light reflections
the plump full face
suddenly thin - haggard
the whispering crowd waits
with the mother
some are softly weeping
wiping unbidden tears
the mother(planted on the sofa)
her eyes still uncomprehending
breaks into sudden wails
(the weeping crowd wails with her
..some offer her low words of solace)
but she soon subsides
into her haggard silence
her eyes look towards
the open door sometimes
(the doorstep littered with
sandals, shoes, and more people)
and sometimes at the
chadar spread at her feet
then back to the door
almost as a mother would
when expecting her child back from school
it was around midnight when we got the news
now it's about 12 noon
what is causing the delay
why isn't he back home yet
her black eyes, full, unreflecting
questions the open doorway

suddenly there is a buzz
he is arriving in 10 minutes
a roll of fresh wails erupts
a little later
someone says, he's come
the mother now tearless, silent
looks expectantly at the doorway
almost as if her 9 year old
would run in with his schoolbag
shouting, "Mother, I am hungry..give me something to eat!"
it begins to rain
the mother looks out of the window
her tears flowing down now
and says, "Look, it's raining"

they carry her 9 year old son in
limp and small, wrapped in white
and lay him on the chadar at her feet

(my neighbour's 9 year old son died on the 14th. i used to chat with him whenever i spotted him. he was a reserved child, but was naughty with his mother, as she would often tell me. he was operated on for a cyst in the brain and died. we are an old neighbourhood. it was a terrible shock for all of us.)

The River

I flow, Into the ocean, I become one with it

I vaporize, I become cloud, Crash into the face

Of jagged mountain, Sentinel of the world

I flow once again, Once again, I become river

Meandering through forest lands and plains

Ever inconstant, Ever constant

Ever evaporating, Ever replenishing

Ever changing, Ever the same

Ever dying, Ever eternal

Ever flowing, Ever being still

On my face, I mirror, Your face, And those of whom you love

Those who have departed, Those who sojourn, Those who are yet to arrive

Beneath my surface, Beyond the sound, Of my mighty roar

If you put your ear to my heart, And listen with care, You will hear

The sacred sound – AUM –

The first flowing out, The second flowing in

The third flowing into silence – AUM -

And then there is, A hidden fourth, Beyond that silence

Another silence, An all encircling silence

The womb, Within which, Is held

The roar, Of The Cosmic Ocean

Weekend Wine & Jazz, And a pictorial tale of the eternal traingle

Have come down to Pune for the weekend, the birds are chirping, squaking, the

cats are lounging about or the males vying for the attention of the current

female around. The fights in these encounters can get pretty loud and bloody.

Big Frey, being the oldest is getting a rough time these days. The younger,

stronger tawny tom has practically chewed up Big Grey's ears. I love this moment

I've managed to capture in this pic - the eternal traingle theme of Bollywood

blockbusters - where the two males are yowling and glaring at each other

threateningly, while the female seemingly is feigning a 'bored with you kiddish

guys' look (actually, if you can read cats' eyes/faces, she is scared) - Cats

can be so human sometimes.

My weekends are pretty fun and busy these days - trekking, musical shows, art

shows and so on. This weekend I'm gonna join a bunch of wine experts and lovers

for wine tasting - spanish wine it is - at a fine dine. And a day of jazz music.

Both of which I'm looking forward to. Meanwhile, a friend of mine has gifted me

a bottle of Bordeaux which I'm saving for some special occasion, though it's

really hard to resist.

Meanwhile, finished the third

One of the problems I have with my painting - the motivation part of it - is

that I soon get bored with a piece I may be painting once I solve the puzzle or

challenge. After it stops being a challenge, after the puzzle is resolved in my

mind, it just becomes a 'going through the motions' kind of exercise. If I do

manage to actually finish a piece, like this one, it's due to sheer perseverance

- and I hate 'perseverance' when I'm painting, it has to be exciting all

through.

Anyway, despite my hating it, on to perseverance with my purple flowers and my

sunflowers.

Working on two pieces

Well, I'm working on two paintings..struggling a bit with both, though happier with the effects I'm managing to get with the sunflowers. Acrylics is both fun and liberating, as well as damned frustrating.. as I keep saying, it just dries up too fast, and the lower layers seem to absorb the pigments I put on subsequent layers, dulling and darkening them. But the big plus point is, it's so forgiving.. so I shall persist. I love that I don't have to deal with the fumes of turpentine, and that I don't have to worry about things getting muddied as I work almost immediately on layers.

The beginning stages of paintings are always scary..one really doesn't know how it will end up.. a disaster or a success..

Ahhh, Pune..!

Ahhh, Pune..! I don't quite know what it is about this place, but I just feel I belong. There is deep peace.. I really don't know how to describe it.. My soul is smiling quietly.. is the best way I can put it :)

I and two crows and various tiny birds that flitted into the little trays of water I keep for them in the garden (they love wiggling into them to bathe) and two cats, one named Big-Grey, the other, Fluff-Grey.. all of us spent quality time in the garden early yesterday morning. Me doing yoga first, then sipping my pudina chai after, sitting crosslegged, very Buddha-like. Big-Grey and Fluff-Grey are not my pets, they just hang around the place since I toss them some fish when I'm here. Though they seem quite able to take care of themselves because they look in pretty good shape despite my long absence from here. I'm wary of Big-Grey (a male) who has almost sliced my fingers off occasionally if my hand strays too close to his face when I toss fish, plus he bullies Fluff-Grey (a female) to grab all the fish. Fluff-Grey is wary of me, obviously doesn't trust us humans.. very intelligent.

I checked out all my plants, watered and looked after by Hira-bai, my maid, in my absence. She doesn't much care for the cats though.. always complains bitterly about the cats I always seem to collect. I don't know why, but cats seem to gravitate to me.. I must have been a cat in some past life, perhaps they know that.. Cats know everything! You can tell by gazing into their knowing eyes.. Big-Grey's eyes are green like new leaves when the sun shines through them. Fluff-Grey's are brown, like a muddy lake.

There's a slight chill in the early morning air, harbinger of the winter, though the rest of the day was beautifully warm and sun-filled. I spent most of it in the garden, pottering about amongst my plant pots. Also started a new painting, sunflowers in a vase, which I will probably finish later today, after I go and do my bit at the polling booth.

And now, for a hot cup of pudina chai, and then, after the sky lightens a little, my yoga in the garden.

I am in peace and joy :)

Feeling fulfilled

My life now is totally about sipping endless cups of tea, allowing it to go tepid, then cold, while I paint and paint and paint.. to my heart's content. Just finished an abstract-ish bunch of purple and white flowers in a flower pot, and I'm feeling as content as a cat that has lapped a bellyful of milk and  then stretches out in the sun and yawns herself into a blissful nap. Only difference is, my mind is so energised that sleep is eluding me. So, instead, I begin ruminating, as usual, about this mysterious effect painting has on me.. I guess on all artists, whatever their field.

Why do I do it.. paint..? It's not that I need the paintings I do.. it's not that I sell my stuff (except for one or two).. I haven't even bothered to start trying to sell them. Like most artists, I'm totally not clued into the commercial aspects of life, especially about my artwork. So here I am, painting off and on over the years, my canvases, papers, pieces of wood on which I do them collecting in cupboards, on cupboards, under the bed, leaning on walls, on every spare surface I can find to keep them. Why, what is this need that drives me to do something that seems so useless, purposeless?

The answer, I think, is the great need I have to create. Painting is like magic for me.. to watch formless paint turn into a flower, a mountain, a tree on a flat featureless surface is sheer magic. Plus, painting, creating these forms, or just abstract forms using colours and brush strokes to create mystery, is a challenge.. and I love challenges. The challenge of mastering an intricate rose, for example.. or a landscape.. keeps me interested in life.. keeps my child-like sense of wonder at watching, examining the creation all around me alive. When I am in painting mode, my senses are constantly alive.. when I see a sunset, I wonder what colours I would need to capture the beauty.. every leaf, stone, puddle of water is about shape, form, shades, colours that exist in my paintbox, and the end of my paintbrush with which I recreate them on my canvas.. What can be more fulfilling than that?

There's no wifi here, so though I've clicked them on my iPad, I can't post the pictures of my paintings yet here. Tried my camera, but something's wrong with the battery... I need to buy a new one... I also need to buy a phone which could be the means of posting my pics... which I just don't have the time for.. So until I get a wifi connection, or a new battery, or a new phone, I guess I'll just talk about my paintings.