Archives for the month of: January, 2013

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‘Uncertain, about a ‘digital’ painting becoming anything worth posting and ‘Awkwardly’ staring into my children’s ipad, reverse camera mirror on, and creating the portrait on my iPad. The things one does at 4 am with no mirror in the room and a desperate need to do a self portrait 🙂

Where is that spring, that eternal well, that cosmic tunnel of love,
Where the petty thought is trampled and elephants roam on clouds?

Heavily pregnant with images growing in my womb,
I dare not push away what is growing around me.

Will my art eat me as I eat it?
Will it force its way out crying lustily?

Burning with a fever that waxes and wanes,
I wake before the birds and feel my pain.

It flutters by indecisively
Against a peach coloured wall lit by fluorescence
Now on the edge of my book page
Now sipping my tea

Back and forth it sways thru the air
On wings of constancy
Reeled in by the tube-light’s glare

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I am a mother, large and full of love.
I am an artist, burning with energy
I am on a path of no return

My art will sear itself out of me
Brandishing a sword at those who trespass
On its holy path

A large bosom for love
Wide hips itching to destroy
Strength enough to create whole worlds around me

Scared of the darkness
Timid with thoughts too petty to mention
On nights when i forget my other self

Creating and mothering
My two selves are but the same
One makes art and the other makes men

I am walking this knife edge
Rekindling flames and dreams
Waxing and waning like the moon.

The serpent coils upwards. His hiss, pulsates in my veins. There is a downpour of skulls and ash, cindering my mind into nothingness. Blood gushes out, spewing venom off of slithering tongues. Passion pinnacles and erupts out a hail storm of icy stares. Glowing red coal meets white ice. The winds stand still. The heat scalds gaping eyes. Sweat streams down naked skin.

Who are you
Who spins and unspins?

There is madness
in the thrust.
There is a boiling over
of steamy satiated breath.

We are salivating specks
of golden silvery dust,
in God’s dance of eternal bliss!

हर हर हर हर हर हर महादेव

We scream and shut our eyes,
to this blinding light!

Who are you
Who spins and unspins
?

Who are you
Who spins and unspins?

Driven upward and out,
I drop inward, and grow thin.
Hushed by the gongs,
lulled by your thunderous laughter.
I swoon,
I surrender to you,
who spins and unspins.

Your blue hue is a wavering mist.
A mysterious silent waterfall cascades
into an ebony hued darkness.
A veil drops down.
I am forever, bolted in.

Who are you
Who spins and unspins?

(This poem’s inspired by the recital of Odissi dancers, Surupa Sen and Bijayani Reddy, at The Music Academy, Chennai.)

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When a man embraces his femininity,
and dances with soft feet
upon the red earth,
he is a ‘caress’, personified.

We are newborn offsprings,
sprouting out after the first light in Spring.
We hibernate for decades on end,
and resurrect ourselves from thawing grounds.

In each devoted dancer,
I see the face of my teacher.

(This poem’s inspired by the dance recital of Nartaki Nataraj, at The Music Academy, Chennai.)

BLOSSOMING

Bosoms, beckon at lingering eyes
Hips, entice trembling limbs
Eyes, dart flower arrows into a racing heart

She spins and unspins
She spins and unspins

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These days, there is a beautifully mysterious, translucence of an other-worldly sort, hovering around our being. There is consistent opportunity in our lives to transcend the mundane. We are unique flowers weaving our own tales. We are fragrance personified. We are woven lines, in varying forms and hues.

Today, we are laced in red and white, bejewelled in sparkling silver and gold! The thundering sounds from the dancer’s anklets, fills us with an adrenaline like no other! Every night fall, we listen to colourful tales about Kings, Queens, birds, flowers, bees and beasts. Magically, the heightening theatrical energy of vulnerability, sensuality and regality is whispering itself into our dreams, visions and manifestations!

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(Sketches and poem, inspired by the Odissi dance recitals by Sujata Mohapatra & Nrityagram dancers, and the Kathakali performance by Shri Sadanam Balakrishnan and troupe, at The Music Academy, Chennai.)

If you say that God never speaks to you, what do you think your heartbeat is?

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