The Final Dance

Within this arena, which grows more stable night after day, generations work and love and hope and vanish. New generations tread on the corpses of their fathers, continue the work above the abyss and struggle to tame the dread mystery. How? By cultivating a single field, by kissing a woman, by studying a stone, an animal, an idea.

Nikos Kazantzakis, Zorba the Greek

"Fundamental happiness depends more than anything else upon what may be called a friendly interest in persons and things. ... The kind [of interest in persons] that makes for happiness is the kind that likes to observe people and finds pleasure in their individual traits, that wishes to afford scope for the interests and pleasures of those with whom it is brought into contact without desiring to acquire power over them or to secure their enthusiastic admiration.

The person whose attitude towards others is genuinely of this kind will be a source of happiness and a recipient of reciprocal kindness. ... To like many people spontaneously and without effort is perhaps the greatest of all sources of personal happiness."

 The Conquest of Happiness, Bertrand Russell

Zero....

Zero, the house is on fire...the ants are diligently working, nungee cow jumps in, she says the boy who had green chutney and dahi is on fire. That boy is thinking..... khujarao. Jenson baba is in Cookie land having rice... chung chung, he is on a high hoping for his mithun to be sacrificed on a full moon night, so he places the egg shells in the Sangla Valley... I am wondering where are we????? for I am in Kalakshetra. then Chandigarh, Kausauli, Khujrao, assam, nagaland, punckula, berkley, it all adds up to Zero. Please stop harrasing the Bodo's it's not fair. The Shatabdi train leaves early morning. The men from Bihar are tumbling in the truck, not looking down. I am sipping on my masala tea. The One horn Rihno is rushing towards me. I hide behind the transparent cow who waits to be struck by the Bull. PUDA and HUDA decide to get married, they have a baby called Zirakpur who is pregnant. She starts giving birth to many babies called Banquet Kumar. I am having my masala tea, looking at the stains of the aftermath of the Dahi incident. We are all heading to the mountains via the Tree outside the Arts I cafe.        

The act of Reconsideration......

The Sunflower Godess

If something is boring after two minutes, try it for four. If still boring, then eight. Then sixteen. Then thirty-two. Eventually one discovers that it is not boring at all.  

-John Cage

my ash, and yours...

Mukesh, Olivier...

Nobody sees a flower, really, it is so small. We haven't time - and to see takes time like to have a friend takes time.

If I could paint the flower exactly as I see it no one would see what I see because I would paint it small like the flower is small. So I said to myself - I'll paint what I see - what the flower is to me but I'll paint it big and they will be surprised into taking time to look at it - I will make even busy New Yorkers take time to see what I see of flowers.

...Well, I made you take time to look at what I saw and when you took time to really notice my flower, you hung all your own associations with flowers on my flower and you write about my flower as if I think and see what you think and see of the flower - and I don't.

-Georgia O’Keeffe

town hall park...
why have the paths disappeared....

but there are steps leading u into the heart of the Pond

I must tell you, some one is heading to Chennai, it's a place far away...simply not fair. The drawings, rotring pen, the paper, the tank at Townhall, pink flower and 2 seats under the tree. My stories - humping series, sufi baba, the yoga series, kamasutra, ab BUS karo !!! Gas man and much much more!!

So there is a sense of pain within. I was made to Cry, put on a bus and told to go home, I am a different character to draw, an alien amongst all my works. I will have to manage, and that is what i do best, just manage on my own. I am waiting for heads to roll....one by one, The sufi dance i will do, the play of Shastar. The monster who vomits everything from within.

I must tell you someone is heading to Chennai. What will happen to the Pen, the paper and the stories...

Simply Put