Impressions of a Trip

A few sketches done during a recent trip - impressions of people who impressed me, or whose looks arrested my attention, or those just present as study topics within easy access to my vision...also landscapes done from train journeys.

In Sarees

In my sarees, I am:

Star studded desert dunes - silver elephants roam my black sky;gold nymphs sing and dance within my peacock depths;leaves and lotus intertwine - strand by strand - under blazing evening skies;fields of gold gray chrysanthemums bloom over my shameless pink soil.

Notes on a Train

Fields of waving silver grass
Heron on a shiny black boulder
A feeding buffalo.
---
A man pulled out a hindi Femina and Griha Shobha
---
A first sunflower bloomed in a field of swollen green buds.
----
A hungry man doubled over planting with care tender green saplings in perfect rows - rice for nation's supermarkets.
---
An old woman binged on cokes and ice cream diving into her wasted chest for cash.
---
Two peahens joined the crows to feed off garbage dumps outside Agra.
----
A herd of skinny cattle wait patiently at a railway crossing.
----
He shat in their marigold fields to offend his master's Gods.
----
A man's torso stood over its own inverted self - still, over still waters - to catch lunch.
----
Boulders striped red and white
established the might
of Gods,
of majority's right.
-----
Coolies in red, recline under shades, watching in disappointment and relief, our train speeding by.
---
Indigo stained buildings against blinding white fence blurring past.
----
Wrinkled skin and wasted self
wrists tinkle with glass and gold
memories of youth and beauty.
----
A peacock saunters through scrub forests of Andhra.
----
At Choka, brazen display of gold on fire - trees aflame amongst wavey gold grasses; smokey blue mountains and orange sky, ravines plunging to black.

A Bonus Blessing

Their arrival was heralded by sounds of rhythmic claps - their walk and presence distinct. Every train journey in India is colored by encounters with their mocking laughter, their devious ways of extracting money, especially from bashful young men.

She was beautiful, with full wine lips, eyes painted as raven jets, ringlets frolicking on either side framing her face - perfectly. She smiled at me as she entered the railway compartment - I smiled back. She was stunning as she teased, sparkled, flirted, cajoled, and coerced cash from the youths besides me. Work done, she turned to me-
She: "Do you work?" I: "No, I am a housewife"
She:" Then why is your hair cut?" I:" Because it is no longer beautiful"
She:"Women cut their hair if they go for job" I: Silent
She:" Are you ill?" I: " I am a little unwell"
At which, this young gorgeous woman shook her head in sympathy, laid her hand over my gray head - and blessed me.

Seeds

She sat with her feet dangling down the wall, the packet of seeds by her side - salt and chilli powder on her palm - she dipped the seeds into this mixture and delicately nibbled them - what a strange taste, not at all unpleasant - why had she expected them to be nasty? the things you constantly discover - she smiled at the thought.

Like discovering this place - it was such a surprise! Who would've guessed such a hidden idyllic spot right in the heart of the city - it was completely empty, today as all other days of her visit, although the roar of the traffic lay just beyond the skin of silence that enfolded this space. A rocky pool lay twenty feet below her, orange dragonflies flitted in the dense evening air. Beautiful, clear, gold washed through gray woolly skies - making the world glow. There was an air of expectancy, as usual, in evening sunlight of these monsoon days - was it the phase of ending that made it so, the quenching of the last light? She had not been this happy for a long time - happy?? Ok, at least silent, and at peace - quiet in the inside, and ready. The pool was an opaque slate separate from the luminescent air - deliberately so; sun cast long shadows into the pool - there she was, long and skinny reaching all the way to the other side of the pool - a stick figure already imprinted on water down below.

She sat nibbling at the seeds, leisurely, savoring the spicy chilli that made her wince - the taste was definitely growing on her - this was easy. She mused again at why this particular location was specially interesting - to answer a question - no 'googling', no searches in libraries, talking with people had given her any clue about the seeds she had harvested and, there was only one way to find out. Today she would definitely know if the brain remained active till the last moment, if she saw herself fall, or if the brain switched off first. In either case, her purpose would be served - soon the lights would be out.

Singing to my Fish

For a few weeks now I have had a gloriously beautiful fighter fish in a bowl against my window. It is colored turquoise to indigo and rose to maroon, yes! all on a 2 inch body of furly fins, a vain face, a full pouty mouth. It used to sit in sullen stillness, as many very beautiful people do, aware and sufficient in their own beauty. I wanted it to love me a bit, acknowledge, and interact - and play with me - a little bit...

no amount of prodding it - yes, physically, swirling its pool, pressing my nose against the bowl and making goofy fishy faces perturbed this little beauty at all - it was supremely unaware of my existence and content in its own place - the ruling fish of the bowl.

I slowly gave up seeking attention - decided to do my own thing - there was life before it came into my life, and there would be life even if I am ignored.

I sing - sometimes do tediously long riyaz for my long suffering family....so I usually try to give the family members a break and practice music when all have left home. Recently I have noticed that my fish perks up when I sing, becomes energised, buoyant, almost vivacious - it flits from here and there, swoops and swirls, dives in extravagant display of prowess and soars upwards in vertical lifts. It does all this as I wander through my room, singing. It also has developed a keen sense of the raga and is particularly partial to Bhairav - exhibiting very fine taste. Coincidentally, this also happens to be a favorite raga of mine! My dull, comatose fish has finally come alive - or has periods when it comes alive - when I sing.

I was overjoyed. Suddenly I wondered - maybe this was its act of desperation, of escaping, of committing harakiri, of flipping out, ending its life !! just because I sing?????

Flamenco in Bangalore

The stage was back lit in turquoise green - the figure in front was wearing black, strong shadows, gleaming guitar...the first notes, gentle, caressing - reined back fire, lightning, passion. Soon the fingers were moving with blurry speed, amazing music transporting me to another world of wild spirits, boundless freedom, throaty full voices, exuberant lives - lives of wanderers, gypsies of Andalusia - swirling skirts, leaping gold fires, sounds of flamenco guitar and gypsy violin, clapping hands, and tapping feet - close, passionate, recklessly open..all this I conjured up even as the program started. And, as intensely anticipated, the guitar was accompanied by gypsy violin, percussion, voice (what a full bodied, throaty, resounding voice she had!) and beat of clapping hands - and finally "Farooqo". Slim, strong, curly long hair flowing down his shoulders, raven eyebrows, flashy eyes ,and that smile - a supremely confident, vain smile of the really young, really beautiful, and really, really able...his feet moved in vanishing fast beats, his body leapt in amazing grace, and his fair flew in wild wings as he mesmerised us - hand to his heart, another snapping in rhythm, feet stomping wildly, flamboyantly, in perfect accord with the music - the music that played in his head, in his body, mostly his feet - he pirouetted in disregard to balance, gravity, in complete abandon to what moved him inside and what set us, the audience completely wild, sharing, rejoicing - tonight in Bangalore.

A Road

She was happy to be on road again - especially out on such an empty, straight road. Rural landscapes had long given way to vast stretches of emptiness, occasional acacia, few shrubs, a rich, copper, bouldered landscape under a wide open blue sky. The air was warm, the breeze refreshing. These hours away from responsibilities, commitments, duties, was what kept her going - she knew that - these bits of respite, snatched hours, for just herself and her thoughts.

The road stretched ahead to horizon in a black line - unwavering. She decided she was just going to enjoy the ride, at least for a while, before focusing on matters that needed to be cleared - in her head. Strange, the country was so vast, and yet one could get no sense of this, living in cities. Sometimes she would be strangled by a strangest sensation of claustrophobia, of being caved in, and under, while participating in most normal functions - speaking to a colleague, instructing the maid, helping her son with his homework. She then had the strongest desire to get away - far from it all - from family, creature comforts, from who she was supposed to be. It was then that she would plan one of these excursions on the road - a road leading to nowhere and to no one. She worked on a hunch, with a map - and headed out.

Today was one such days. Aah! it felt good to be out again - and it was such a beautiful, perfect, autumn day. Hey! wait a minute, when did the road get this narrow? She must've been lost in thoughts. She smiled as she turned down the volume knob on her radio - she had really lost track of time with all that daydreaming. She hummed gently as she pressed down on the accelerator - it was a funny thing with maps - they never showed heights - here she had been climbing slowly and steadly and she would've bet, looking at her map, that there were no hills around. Surely, there was no peak marked anywhere towards where she was headed. She mused that geography had always been a weak subject in school. But surely if there was a hill she was going to cross, she should have heard about it somewhere - some hill station, some tourist spot, away from the hot, dusty life in the plains. So, she was to get an added bonus today - she smiled happily - she loved hills, mountains, green tall trees - and here she was getting into it all - without realising it. Sometimes life threw such happy surprises.

The landscape had changed drastically - tall trees darkened the road on either side - the road became increasingly steeper - it was good that she kept her car in such a perfect running condition - this baby could handle it all! She turned off the radio, to focus on the silence around - the beautiful cooling silence of the jungles, of alone-ness, just the purr of the car. She kept her speed steady but bore down on the accelerator to keep going - the road was getting narrower still - almost a single lane now. It was crazy how PWD made roads - no commonsense, no sense of responsibility. How would drivers handle another car coming from the opposite direction?? Really, she ought to complain when she got back. Meanwhile, good idea to fasten that seat belt and hang in there - pay attention, dear girl, no time right now to daydream or doze! She tightened her hold on the steering wheel, kept her foot down on the pedal - now even her babes could not keep up the original speed - who could blame her? Look at the bloody road - where was it leading to? to sky?? Damn it - she should have got off and made some enquiries - she with her harebrained ideas - always getting her into trouble - she would have to wait for a turnabout, to make a U-turn and head home - it was getting late too - and folks would be worried too. A car better not be coming from the opposite direction - the road had completely closed in around her, and continued to climb ever higher! There was no way she could brake - the brakes would not be able to handle the steep slope and God only knows how much she had climbed up - seemed like it was ages since she started climbing. Her hands were slipping on the steering wheel. Cool it dear girl, and you'll come out alright! No! don't think - focus and drive - yes! the only way available - forward and up. The car was creeping along now - but what could she do? Really where could she stop? and how? No point even thinking of jumping out, finding boulders, and ramming it under her wheels...and...what if some other vehicle came from the opposite side??

Oh no! in the distance ahead, she saw that the road was climbing into a dark narrow tunnel - she really ought not to enter there - she didnt want to - by now she could feel her heart pounding in her breast, her breath come out in rasps - her sticky, wet hands slippery on the wheel. She was approaching the tunnel. She turned on the headlights into the narrow walled-in black tube, even as she entered it.

And then...she woke up!
--------------------------------

A narrative of a dream my sister had.

A Walk

For several days now I have been on a search...to search for hope, that invisible tenous thread that holds one's place in universe, a wispy idea that validates this journey. I have looked for it everywhere - in children's laughter, the rays of sun, the flowers that still bloom. And...it has been futile! I have been filled with gloom -that this is all transitory - this innocence, the rain filled clear light, earth on which flowers can bloom.

Usually I thrive on impermanence - lunge at fleeing moments, grab disappearing rainbows - to live on peak of pinnacles - in perfect poised balance of now. This time the monsoons dragged me in deeper- to their lightless, prussian, dense, dark depths. I have hung on teetering, striving balance on swinging see-saws, jumping between ends - between colossal falls, looking towards heavens for a smile.

And yesterday, the Gods smiled...

I was taking a forced, fast walk through our campus. It was late dusk, the dark period before night, before the lamps were turned on. The road was silent, damp, under canopies of trees with clumps of bamboos, and jungles of bushes on either side. It was then that I saw them - two Slender Loris moving with ease on a bent long bamboo. I stood still, in shocked delight. They were so tiny, so fragile and so sure! One of them quickly moved away, to hide and stare - the other was cocky, assured that I meant no harm...how did he know?? I had been granted a gift!

As I made my way home, with now a silly grin on my face, I saw in spotlight under a street lamp - a tiny beautiful owl. Barely 8", with a flat white face, huge glowy eyes...and definitely an attitude. The rains have seen swarms of moths canopying the street lights - they very quickly loose their transparent wings and fall on ground where they become dinners for birds, termites, other creatures. The owl looked at me in reproach and flew to a safe branch on a nearby tree. From here it played a 'blink' game with me, bobbing it head absurdly all the time. I tried imitating its hoot, approaching closer to see if I could pass off for a fellow friendly owl - only to send it to even higher branches...I had been granted a second gift!

Suddenly, Hope was a clear, visible thread, connecting me to all of life - to Slender Loris, Owl, children, rainbows, flowers, light, and yes, even the darkest monsoon clouds!