माँ, याद तुम्हारी आती है।

इस कमरे का एकाकीपन 

तन्हा है ये मेरा मन 

इस अंधियारे में तेरी याद 

यादों के दीप जलाती है,

माँ, याद तुम्हारी आती है।

पास के छत पर माँ कोई 

गोद के मुन्ने में खोई,

कोमल थपकी दे-देकर 

जब लोरी कोई सुनाती है,

माँ, याद तुम्हारी आती है।

जब गर्म तवा छू जाता है 

हाथ मेरा जल जाता है 

या तेज धार की छूरी से 

ऊंगली ही कट जाते है,

माँ, याद तुम्हारी आती है।

हाँ, तुमसे मेरी दूरी है 

कुछ ऐसी ही मजबूरी है 

देर रात तक बिस्तर पर 

जब नींद मुझे न आती है,

माँ, याद तुम्हारी आती है।

कुछ बड़े सही मेरे अरमाँ 

पर बुरा नहीं मैं, मेरी माँ 

क्यूँ बार-बार तू रो-रोकर 

दिल के टूकड़े कर जाते है,

माँ, याद तुम्हारी आती है।

जब मुखड़ा तेरा हँसता है 

मुझे कितना अच्छा लगता  है 

इक दिन तुम्हें हँसाउंगा 

आवाज़ ये दिल से आती है, 

माँ, याद तुम्हारी आती है।

-- राहुल कुमार

(सर्जना 27वें अंक से)

A night with stars

Well everything starts with a daydream and not every ounce of it but at least some of it, in deformed or changed form, comes true. With an excitement  to see the galloping meteors across the sky I spent nearly one hour under the bare sky hoping to encounter one of the rarest events that we do not happen to see everyday. Well truth be told, I thought it would be like I saw few years back, a long bright flashing tail like a falling star that leaves behind the greatest sensations for such a vision. But it was albeit quite under measured.

While this course, I reinvented the aestheticism of star gazing when you lie under the sky and stars twinkle giving a titillation every now and then that they are going to fall. But they too are like the precarious ones who always have the maximum chances surrounding them to showcase something real and unusual but it is really once in a while and never predictable. They seem like tiny little bright white holes in the sky but still so fascinating, so attractive, so storied that I am in surprise that I spend quite a long time with them in the quietness of nights. 

It was something that went in a flash and after literally wrecking my neck I can never admit that it might be an illusion to my eye which I was unfortunately on my way to accept when I got an another treat of similar drop. And this time it felt real. Though quite an underestimated and reduced version of my fantasy but I am real glad that I saw it because like the event it is also quite rare that we go behind our every fantasy and it works out. We all are so busy in walking and talking and rushing on the ground that we hardly bother to look up where we used to stare a lot for our every little wish.I wanted people to hang out with me to partake the load of silent hours and share the physical pain of crippling my neck but the solitude at night after a real long time was also worth. I grabbed so many lost thoughts and was rewarded at the end no doubt.

Stars I remember used to be widely spread across the whole sky earlier but today they were clustered, though very less densely, to a squeezed central region of it. It might be because of the changing dimensions of the purpose for which stars were meant for. Though they never contributed much to dispel luminance and curtail the darkness of night but they used to be the source of fainted lights distanced real far to brighten up the sky and give moon a company. Their reflection in  a ripple less lake used to seem like a glowing coverlet with sparking dots. But today the light of earth is brighter enough it seems to blind the sky above. So they have retired.

Neways I hope to see lot of falling stars in future as well though I know they are already hiding and apparently getting extinct but that it's how we are going to realize that they are still there above.

For the Angels

Some lines that I happened to find written about the most tender and natural age of childhood. Sharing here with some of mine:

We worry about what our children will be one day, we forget that they are already someone today.

We have had a bad luck with our kids: They have grown up.

There are not seven wonders in the eyes of a child, there are seven billions.

The questions of a child sometimes can shut up the wisest person.

They come in the world full of magic.

They grow up in the world of surprises.

They get old in the world of cliches'.

A child id not a sketchbook. They already are filled with billion colors  Let the rainbow sprout and create a skyline where they can use their colorful, sparkly wings to cover wider skies and breathe in the sweetest air.

Their wisdom in human behavior and emotional flux can defeat any adult.

An age that does not fear, an age that always dream, an age that is never tired, an age that always bosom: that's childhood.

Their hugs are like embrace of god, their kisses like drops from heaven and their smiles like a divine arc on the majestic face of an angel.

We often forget what we were and what have we become, they are the cute reminders.

                                                                                               ......................................to be continued

Hope

I sit resting my chin on the folded knees under a willow tree everyday to leer at the setting sun that looks like receiving a caress from someone that stays, to someone who is leaving, with the brightest hope and greatest happiness that after a crass cold lonesome night, it will come again for her to warm the hearth of their invincible love for each other.

....

Invisible becomes visible
unknown becomes known
The one thing I always feared,
Love would make me all alone.

Love or like?

Sometimes we brood over silly things that prove a gradual decline of our conventional wisdom. This write-up however I would not consider a moot point doubting my maturity in relationships but a revelation. A friend of mine asked me to think about the difference between "liking" and "loving". Such closely connected words often push me towards the razor's edge where it becomes necessary to show my clarity over any subject, which calls out for a clear demonstration of a perspective. So I have tried to jot down the connectivity between the two similar feelings that are always in a competition to earn more emotional regards. 

Liking has always been considered to be a surface sensation at the first place that promotes a bond between two persons: be it friendship, acquaintance, love or dislike. Though ironic but true that two juxtaposite feelings walk parallel with a thin line in between held tightly by an adamant personality that sits inside everyone and has an adherence towards its instinctive traits. It refrains change until some strong influence seeps into it. To like someone is to open up for those positive changes that we admire in a person. To like someone is to long for more and more time to share the company, to explore more goodness, more pleasure that has been discovered outside recently. How great is to bear the feeling of liking where we are out on a journey of revelations and realizations. We come across so many surprises and facts about self and others, where we start off to make relations, where we start off to accept or reject the changes being offered. Liking is no less than or different from loving because both the feelings share equal greatness. The only thing that needs to be highlighted is that the greatness multiplies when one merges or transforms into the other. Love has been since ages defined in big terms wrapped in amazing emotional fringes, gained special corner in philosophies and received highest gestures among all ages. All because of a reason.

Love is a metaphor for blind faith. A belief that grows so strongly that it glorifies all the positivity inside a person making him/her king/queen of the world. At this stage he/she becomes the strongest creator enlightened with the sanctity of love. 

We say,

We love our parents; we never say we like our parents because it’s the indelible faith that prevails between a parent and a child helping in bringing their reflection in him. If we love someone, we love him whole like us. And here where liking someone becomes a milder tone where promises, acceptances, flexibility, apprehensions do come as reality checkers. Love is something that comes late, quite late after we cross all the stages and are ready to get into the water fearlessly even if we do not know how to swim with this hope that we will learn.

Love is not new. It is very old. Its age is reflected in its newness in every facet, every lesson. One can always love a person whom he likes and rise.

Hold your story

I was thinking to write over this issue since quite a long time but couldn't actually got a whip. Recently while taking a glance over a wheeler at Kanpur station I read Chetan's lines  that contained  the same expressions that wanted a channel through my words. Today the generation of youth has wings of fire with excellent confidence to achieve what they aspire for, a great deal of flexibility and openness for change with changing times and almost all essential attributes with which they can arrange every bit of their lives in a beautiful manner.

Moving ahead, being in love is the most sacred feeling a person hones making him self- motivated and inspired at all times. The fact that one is held in the continuous concern of someone gives a sense of completeness and being truly connected to one more strong and similar entity of universe. Now centering your life around love is the most beautiful thing one can do but making love your universe needs a brief introduction. Today the meaning and purview of love has changed and as a consequence the most tender and   bare age misses out their original instincts that calls out for fulfilling their dreams, reaching their goal and making their lives not love-locked but love-blessed. Having love in life is like having the strongest support with which one gains a lot confidence to confront any hurdle and proves that it compliments your life and helps in collating other tottered pieces. It pushes us forward towards what we truly are and what else we can add up to keep on rising along the stairs of self realization so that towards the dawn of life there is no regret and a lot of accomplishments that one weaved and aspired since he starts weaving dreams. Since everyone has got only one life it's ridiculously unfair to make it concealed for something that in real doesn't bear a virtue of control. I am writing this because deep down in our country the concept of controlling lives of others and surprisingly of the one whom you love the most sinks into a depressive territory where so many freedoms are getting negotiated in the name of some narrowed obligations.

Take a simple example of Indian bridal selection. It is really disheartening that today also people of India are held back with their conventionally unjustified demands of a bride that can feed their bellies, can adjust into their originality,  no matter how efficiently and beautifully she has been taking her life to all the levels of excellence at work. Well an independent, free-spirited and soulful girl has all rights reserved to maintain her thoughts and preserve her principles without any change and compromise for the sake of new relation because relations do not expect, they accept and they accept more.

Today the depictions of Indian society is creating a graveyard of free spirits in a face lifting, enormously unrealized number making this world devoid of the synergy it requires for a progressive and healthy place to live. It is a matter of disquiet that the issue is given least heed to the countries like India where human value has still got least priority when it comes to loosen some ulcerous knots in fossilized thinking that is eating away the soul of the nation. What picture are we creating when we choose a fair skinned, well virtue d  ductile girl over a successful, well accomplished, confident girl just because some people think they might not fit? What and why do we Indians aspire for fitting in and why not making bigger acceptances to enlarge the scope of positive and progressive changes which this nation is in dire need of.

It is a matter of great concern that India being a mosaic of emotional beehive that gives it an edge to come out as an ethical and spirited country still is caged in some really disgusting concepts that has hardened into the roots. 

Our friends and families need to understand that all we can follow is our hearts because spirits cannot be asked for any negotiation cause it will be like murdering one more soul. Feel high in love, try to rise in love cause we often do not get an idea when and how we lose some things that is ours. Stop following people because at the end when we you will stop you will feel that it's too late to revert back and by then you may be addicted towards getting the directions from outside  you when you had fair chances to make your own. Follow your dreams, preserve all the love that will always compliment you to reach out to them, celebrate lives, create a great life, a great story, a great and healthy relation with you and yours.

Let us sneak into the trivia

I love to go through and sneak into each and every corner of my painting that are always treated and attended with the same and equal amount of affection attaching a new story with every one of them when seen alone. Just look into the different parts projected with different angles which got a chance to be presented solely with a completeness and a distinctive meaning in each of them and they are looking amazingggggg!!!!!!!

Diwali-2012

With an exuberant mood of festivity and fun the festival of lights, colors, happiness, togetherness passed excellently leaving behind life warming memories with family. The year has been too fast for me and every moment now ironically seems to be too slippery. Weaving present with golden threads of remembrance is the only thing that we have got as a keeper. Diwali has always been a day full of exhaustive cleaning, planning for having something nice and unusual in menu, creative art and crafts for hangings and lighting, painting of diyas(which look like an epitome of Indian culture: made of clay, with a depth to hold the oil that gradually burns to replace the darkness with an enlightenment and after getting painted looks like all dressed up to flaunt the rays of hope and gleam of happiness), carving of Rangoli on the floor just outside the door to welcome Goddess Laxmi to enter into the house that has made so many preparations for her, celebrating the joy of mythological event in all prosperous manners. 

This Diwali too was the best that competes every year with last year's Diwali and wins ever time cause every year the enthusiasm and celebration gets added up.

All in a row with the same motive: to sparkle

A colourful welcome

The sparkles of delight

Starting Off

The making of Rangoli

Now waiting for the next boom of next Diwali................

Perspective

Got to present two different perspective over a single line posing different thoughts in different minds.The idea is generated from a common line

A love-athiest person: There is no sunrise "so beautiful that is worth waking me up to see it."

A love- purged person: There is no sunrise " so beautiful that I see in the light of my lover's eyes."

Season to paint..

Well the season of painting has started with new colors and themes in mind for the preparation of a festive celebration. This time with a rural ambiance a lot of pictures are popping up in vision like mud pots, huts, green and rich trees, village women with rustic decorations and cotton sarees with the smell of soil, paddy fields draping an invisible quilt of air to mature the crops with the sensitivity of prolific land,a broad clear skyline with stronger sunbeams in daylight and sea of  endless stars in the presence of a monopolistic, serendipitious moon. So much can be put on the canvas but so far now the stretched board has just been primed and surfaced to welcome all these colours. The white canvas looks so serene which has the depth of all intricacies and surface of all simplicity one can think of.

Canvas surface finish

The experience of priming the board is though not new but with helping hands it was quite a fun filled and evocative moment. The floors when have got stains and brushes, wet bristles the project has definitely been started that has to be completed in less than a moonth. I have to capture each and every stage till it gets finally hanged up in the goddess chamber. so here the journey begins,

Cotton thick cloth got stretched on wooden frame and primed using three coats of white Tractor Emulsion(primer). Quite a cheap one as compared to the preprimed ones that were used last year. Neways thinking of using acrylics with water medium.

Borderline

Starting with the border line, white canvas with red border reminds me of the ethnicity that lies in a simple white cotton saree with red border that can be wore by a granny, or a newly wed coy lady or a classical dancer but in every forms it looks glamorous and graceful. Albeit a colourful banded pattern will be embossed over red as a mark of beauty of folk art.

I have done some preliminary sketches to get the rural diorama but still have to think for the centre pieces. I want to do some sort of semi abstract art this time, have some in mind though, let's see how it comes up.

Borderline complete

With a bright borderline the painting has been defined. I like the pattern that I randomly drew and chose among few. The border has celebrating yellow color like a wall hanging at doors in villages generally during any wedding or festival. The mud pots have also started coloring themselves with a layer of clay.

Mud Pots glazed

The worst part of working with acrylics is that it keeps us sitting at stretch for so long that in a fear of it getting dried up and non mingling we turn totally fatigued. I had to colour the pots in a row at one time cause they needed a similar shade and stroke and it took nearly three and half hours without break in completeing them. However the dark background has put some bright effects but still I find something is missing that might be found in between the whole journey..;)

Background finish

After all the background is now complete giving an etnic structure to the painting. However tyre swing is left out along with pastel detailings of pots and tree. Cloud technique worked this time by sponging blot of whites with a dry brush. Herbal arms across the branches too got a nice tone on which big leaves with dull white veins are resting.

 Behind the window!!

Well eventually I have realized that until I splash the vivid colors of feminism and romanticism of nature on my canvas, it really seems little incomplete and dry. The eyes reflect the vastness of this universe with countless emotions floating in its water mesmerizing the beholders to look through them, the world it is seeing. The semi abstract touch with the elements of woman-ism: pure, pious and tender.The rustic lady with the mystic eyes stands alone in the midst of festivity and celebration drawing references from her own life.

Behind the window!!

The workmen, the folks, the village men at the time of celebration of arrival of Goddess become the ultimate messengers lost in fun and devotion. The rhythm of festival, the vibrations mark the beginning of pooja. With the paper hangings, folk instruments and group of artistic people the section called for the excitement of the festival. 

The celebration

The complete picture: The soul

The big picture-2

The second painting(The rhythm) was made in so hurry that I couldn't capture its stages. The lady who got a lot of fame was made in three hours on the final day just after returning from the office. Like an eager-beaver I started posting colors on her face. And it came out real nice with a tinge of simplicity and a comely shadow of feminism on her face. It took me three full days to complete the tree and the sky. Every leaf had to be reflected in its true color. Next came the magnificent royal peacock with heavenly feathers painted with the best set of colors. 'The Peacock blue' color that I always used to search while shopping for my wardrobe was here making a perfect combination with pale green(or spring green?) color having small surprises of red and blue feathers. It looks like the most ornamental pheasant that has accidentally walked into my canvas to enhance its beauty and stayed for a while to beautify all the elements who seemed waiting for its grand arrival. Let us have a look of the rhythmic canvas.

The coy visage

The complete picture: The rhythm

All hanged up

After taking their places they looked like having earned their rights of getting looked at and loved by a number of eyes. They seemed amazingly proud up there narrating the story of my one month companionship with them and the whole story of their evolution. Finally in the chamber of goddess they held me connected...

Now waiting for the next puja.......................................................................................

Talker again!!

The talker has arrived again. In the short period of time, the facile tongue has to exercise a lot. One more expectancy for a big hole in the invisibility is making me a bit taken away beforehand but the religious talker has again been called up. It has struck 1:45 AM already but feeling good to repeat the moments time and again. Again the same butterflies whose fluttering would blow out all the air inside me for few minutes before it would happen. But selecting nicest chime of words to array beautiful and forceful sentences gives a strong feedback.

Waiting for one more GO on tuesday. Will definitely revert back with the experiences.
I am ready..listening to bryan adams  'All I want is you'  :) ;).
Presentation went all well with lots of nodding and cheering faces. The whole week although was bumpy and hence feeling a bit light although the emotional turmoil is still at height. After every busy day, a line that I remind says,"  All that has passed holds your glory and all that has yet to come your story of being more glorified."
It's a pleasure to find pleased people around me, the only task remains next is to forget the encomium as soon as possible to revert back to my own sphere of invisibility.

My nasty shoes

I got a pair of new shoes,

Black sole with blue hairline.

In the darkest night, full of clouds

Like moon beams taking a ride.

 

That’s how I felt when I saw them first

Calm, serene, with power infinite.

I now agree that love is blind and deaf

Cause I couldn’t listen what was in the might.

 

I often look at them at rest

And they stare me back from down

Even when I am walking or talking

They stalk me like my own puppet clown.

 

I hear they murmur when I do not look

And turn quiet as soon as I do.

They are like tiny prattling lil’ ghosts,

Stuck in my feet, my nasty shoes.

 

When I say left, they go right

And whine like I did wrong.

They are like at the end of me

But have held my mind all so strong.

 

Once put off they lie like dead.

With all life gone, without any say

I hate myself for feeling for them

and dangling my legs back into the devil’s bay.

-- 

Poojadecoration

Collecting ideas for Durga Pooja theme decorations of projecting indian village in festive mood. I have framed some quite rural pictures in mind to daub on the canvas. Let us see how abstract and contemporary touch comes this time.
Will try painting on bamboo mats with acrylic I guess.

Whisperer

The Jungles: Whispering quietness...

 

Everafter

Just captured one story!! Sorry for the outmoded and the most common version of portrayal of a love story. I have just concentrated on the story in the captured snapshots more than the expression in the writing.
 

     

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Two friends happily together sharing the moments of friendship and joy with loads of fun.

They eventually fell in love and realised that all those happy moments were the signs that they need to be more than friends forever in the manner fate wants them to be.

 

The relationship however aspires for some sour and some sweet times where people involved get time to rewind the time where they madly loved each other. The references seem scarce and distances appear between the two making them feel the pain of not being together.

 

But the endurance is not powerful than the depth in the love they bore in their hearts. The faith they have, the trust they put into each other and the fear of losing the best friend they can ever have make them realise that love may ask for patience and  responsibility but all because to grow its magic.They talk, they remember, they bridge the gap that has no meaning in a life of happiness.

 

And feeling all the facets of love, creating even more surreal moments they  live again, happily everafter.

 

.....................................................................a common love story!!!!!!!!!

 

First Oil Paint

 

Well I am not much happy and satisfied with the first work trying this new medium. Through this I just learned how tactically it is required to blend the colours to put into one single picture that has to be already framed in mind. I think I got too excited having a new medium and brighter set of colours that I couldnt anticipate where the painting was going. Although what I like about this painting is the straight merged monochrome boxes that took me to 3 separate times after every dry-up.

 

The arms, shoulders and shoes of ballerina took up the colours very nicely, infact even the dress draped a little glamour with the blue and white tone. Flowers disappointed me cause they had to be milder and soft and tender which on the other hand ended up as wild ones. Still lots can be done to modify the mood of the picture. At least I am happy the main work is complete. The journey is more than one month old.

 

Outstretching my arm, I leap over and hover in the sky to look up for my dreams locked somewhere among the clouds over my head.

 Neways Just tried to edit the digital print by inverting the colours and found it a bit eclectic. Looks different and gives a clear idea where the lines and curves are straight and perfect. And defenitely flowers look far better here.!!! Her yellow ballet shoes are lovelyyyyyyyyyy!!!

 

My companions.

 

My office desk and cabin invites me every morning at 9:30 AM to get reserved and occupied for next 8 hours. My workplace is not much tempting to create an anxiety for daily projects and I have to sometimes create my own personal corner with some adjuncts to keep me at ease under the pile of files and tasks. Some little things that cheer me up at the times I skip my work attention. These charmers around I can say allow me bear the 8 hours of drudgery which definitely is turning me lesser of a fun receptor during the schedule. The round pumice stones held in my palms percolate the calmness into me through my skin and of course serve as my personalised paper weights. My lovely duos from the frame keep me inspired and motivated to love my job and deliver just what is required. They keep me connected to myself. The one hanging chain of the damsel, a reminder of some fortuitous delights in life that we often receive and love to treasure just because memories and moments could be frozen. The only memento of such an event as of now that I do have makes me feel still alive and full of feelings that give my heart a compensatory elixir. The pen stand that is always in a hope of a nice ink-filled pen and stationeries to justify its presence allegedly holds up all my chits containing some scribbles. Often all these get hidden behind the scattered papers and files all over my desk and give me an impression that like them I too get carried away by the diurnal reservations and the moment I clean up, I feel light and fresh. These are my companions beholding me as a keeper, instilling a tinge of faith to overcome all odds and recreating a diorama of my personal essence.

 

Can I say: Do not go, Please....

The injustice, the unfair surprises, the peevish destiny, the indelible memory, the mortal harassment, whatever one may call it but death remains unhampered, uninfluenced by the screams and deafening cries of all those who have lost their companions, families, relations. It makes us realize time and again just when everything in life goes smoothly that even when we do not want to think about it, it has the freedom to sweep anyone of us anytime, no matter what how much we are addicted to mortality.

Sometimes we hear or come to know about someone whom we just knew somewhere in the garden of yore and are actually not related, that he/she is no more.That feeling of restlessness towards an unattached person whose stories had no common chapters with that of mine indicates that the fear of loss is one of the greatest fears against which we do not have any weaponry to confront rather accept and then move on hiding it somewhere in the dark of our heart. It's like snatching the right of a person who might had to do many more and go far afield before having the final submission. The thought itself  makes us looking up for all our dearies without whom we cannot imagine our lives at all.

Death will not compromise, neither should life. Somethings cannot be changed like the uncertainties in life. Hearing the news of demise of someone who was as normal and hearty as we are today passes a heavy smoke down the spine that tomorrow or some day in unseen future ahead we might not be contributing to the energy this universe shares. Let it not call as a preparation for death but by not whining and not cringing for what we did or what we  not, we may start our preparation for a life. Being the custodian of our own life and respecting everything that comes along, let us try to overcome this fear.The strange human heart has the strongest fractals potent enough to absorb every vile event, drink every poison and still remain hopeful that tomorrow will be brighter. 

I wish I could feel the fragments of those lost in the clime, gone forever, whose faces will never appear again, whose fragrances still linger in the memory lanes of their dear ones and whose influences have brought changes.I wish all of us to have a great life and anytime if anything unpredictable happens to anyone just consider it as another sign of life that it is never alone,its end is glued to it.

Live happy.............

Just read somewhere:" Life asked death" why do people love me and hate you?"; Death replied," It's because you are a beautiful lie and I am a painful truth."

I do not agree to the life part in this quote but still believe that yes life is beautiful and definitely death is painful.