fractals and fairytales

Double Polarisation

2011-10-24T23:31:00.000-07:00

Schroedinger's Cat/ Amour

2011-06-23T09:44:00.000-07:00

This work is inspired by a conversation I had with a friend where he compared Schroedinger's cat with Tristan and Isolde. The ramifications of the supposed tongue-in-cheek remark helped me in conceiving this composition consisting of a QR code, a rorschach image and an ancient Indian symbol i.e. the arrow of Kama, the God of love.

Catenation and Biomorphism

2011-05-07T04:14:00.001-07:00

Lunar Phase Inducer

2011-04-20T02:22:00.000-07:00

The phases of the moon filled with polycephalic patterns overlapping to the point of non-representation. The sound of the gesture was recorded to create a correlations in terms of length and repetition with the phases and desire respectively.

The Internal locus

2011-03-31T12:45:00.000-07:00

The Threshold

2011-03-21T11:42:00.000-07:00

Nishachar IV

2011-02-25T07:47:00.000-08:00

"Why are truckers wary of the evil eye?" That malevolent Dionysiac gaze keeps him awake in the odd hours as the car whizzes past sleepy hamlets. He stops at a dhaba and lights up. 125 km left to reach Shivpuri. What if the town turns out to be what its named as. A tiger's hide in a dank cave is not what one expects to sleep on after having spent the better part of the day on the road. There seems to be a tiger reserve there though. Boards sporting a not so potent image of the felid. Seems to be part of a campaign to refurbish M.P.'s tourism. His gaze shifts to his Bombay Natural History Society T-shirt reading "Tiger Tiger Burning Bright". Then who's not burning today. Burning oil to reach home. Oil that fuels technocapitalism and wars over divinity. Burning the midnight oil to learn to look at the world reflected on an obsidian mirror. So many straight routes, lives being spent in cuboids. But then home is where the heart is. A Sanjay Dutt movie blares keeping the rather drunk medley of mustachioed burly men reassured of their machismo. He strokes his beard and boards the car. Another truck sports a woman in waiting. "When are you coming home ?". Women and their cosmic dance. The breeze is cool. The winds of maya blow across his face like a tiger spewing out time.

Deep Down Ascend

2011-02-04T04:54:00.001-08:00

The Red

2010-12-24T09:18:00.000-08:00

Untitled

2010-07-01T03:22:00.001-07:00

Beauty School

2010-05-28T11:30:00.001-07:00

Cardiac Cycle from Contradictions Collapse

2010-04-01T12:29:00.000-07:00

1. Atrial Systol

2.Ventricular Systol

3. Diastol

I

2010-03-16T20:10:00.000-07:00

I do not exist now,
I am what I will be,
for I invented time,
and time invented me.

Life remains a war,
death the victory.
I am the end of time,
Time the end of me.

Contradictions Collapse

2010-03-08T15:10:00.000-08:00

Vulgar display of Power

2010-01-04T09:26:00.000-08:00

Nishachar III

2010-01-02T08:17:00.000-08:00

Purloined wood crackles,
bringing warmth to sunken cheeks,
and the heart's cockles.

A cigarette glows,
like a cyclop's watchful eye,
moving to and fro.

Sweet mischief of dogs,
under an orange streetlight,
looming in the smog.

Idols worn and wise,
in states of sacred neglect,
under peepul trees.

Under angered skies,
the metropolis still breathes,
weaving memories.

Presto

2009-12-16T19:00:00.000-08:00

Nishachar II

2009-12-16T08:16:00.000-08:00

The maelstrom of thoughts is dying down,
as dawn caresses the city with her soft glow.
Sweet sleep beckons the weary eyes,
that gaze at the sky turned blue.

Smoke from the last cigarette end,
sways in the sun out of the window.
Light and dark dance in courtship,
their conflict an eternal ruse.

The Silent Hours

2009-11-10T16:54:00.000-08:00

Oceanic blues

2009-10-25T04:04:00.000-07:00

Welcomed by the roaring waves and the plaintive cries of gulls, the wanderer stepped into the wet sand. Broken shells twinkled from lascivious heaps, catching his eye. Searching for the perfect one, he walked past them with a sigh.

Crabs fled into crevices as he trudged along a rocky outcrop. And there he chanced upon a conch, nestled in the shadows, like a virgin in slumber. He held it close to his chest and thanked the ocean.

On his way back he saw a silhouette against the drowning sun, headed for him. It was the maiden he had imagined in his lonesome moments. He offered her the conch and she smiled.They held hands and danced under the rising moon on the sand, their feet drawing lines, and writing out the way they felt for each other. They walked into the water. The tide rose fast, and so did the amorous tempest within them, with every returning wave. And the night made way for another day.

The eyes of a crab glint in the first rays of the sun. The signs in the sand have been filled up. The wanderer has moved on.

The Wish Withheld

2009-05-21T10:12:00.000-07:00

The carp and the lotus

2009-05-07T09:09:00.000-07:00

The Wish

2009-04-28T10:37:00.000-07:00

Nocturnal leaf-fall - an angel's footfalls;
descending the steps from heaven
awoke the eye to scavenge the sky
for a meteor - an omen.

No meteor is there and the wish is withheld
for the sky as ever is leaden.
A wistful beast weeps inside a wise man
while another sleeps in a maiden.

A Thousand Mirrors

2009-04-20T11:02:00.000-07:00

Prologue:

Anger- a nightmare with an empty manger,
Hungered by tears & shouts in solitude,
Gallops out as ego’s avenger,
Leaving behind a hateful legacy-
Reason & sanity, blind & mute,
Wallowing dazed in the mud.
A remorseful soul rapt by her beauty,
And recollections stained in blood.

Of a man faced by a thousand mirrors:

Demons rise from deep down underneath,
Hiding me from a world I hate.
I don’t have a heart of lies to unsheathe,
Just a masquerade to forget,
The causes I stand for,
For the world are make-believe.
So I come back to this world,
For a stroll alone in the streets,
And a smoke in the cold evening.
I find myself in the faces I meet,
Hate bred behind every wrinkle and brow,
Honed emotions, destined footsteps,
Anxious all the same, except of a few,
Living in a memory, or under self-stricken madness.
Youth wasted in getting grocery in time.
To stand apart from the crowd,
Beauty lost and the ugly mimed,
Swinging to drab tunes under a shroud,
Of trends set by a hierarchy of puppeteers.
Well-bred men eager to join a futile rat race,
Ill fed mothers forget to wipe the child’s tears.
From boyhood to manhood curses showered,
Towards walls, that ricochet off to nowhere.
Before these very walls, shadows douse sanity by joints,
Turning their backs on the world I hate.
Into a lake of hope lovers toss coins,
Moths flutter into their flickering fate,
Mannequins stand self-absorbed unaware,
Of a man faced by a thousand mirrors.

Epilogue:

My sky weeps in hateful remorse,
moths seek shelter in death alight.
Seduced by mannequins along the course
of my journey through another night.
A shrill wind through my veins,
and eyes red not from tears,
holding onto time's reins,
I ride to resurrect yesteryears.

The Lugubrious Highway

2009-04-16T08:48:00.000-07:00

Hunger

2009-03-29T12:44:00.000-07:00

On the Highway

2009-03-28T11:59:00.000-07:00

2009-03-27T03:46:00.000-07:00

Its not that I have a grudge against society. The problem lies in where it finds solace. A city holds myriad thoughts and aspirations cooped up in a plethora of pigeon-holes. The spectacle is ugly. But this realization seldom dawns and that too in a few. Everybody out there is too within themselves to see what actually life was meant to be.

Yes, urbanization does bring along with it its seeming comforts that steadily benumb the gay abandon of childhood. A mountain, a valley, a stream with banks lined with pine, these metaphors of innocence are slowly replaced by a park amidst mankind’s maze, dotted with a few self-pitying wraiths supposed to be called trees, with its benches bearing disgruntled youth, men and women admiring another bud trying to reconnect to its inherent freedom, lovers with their escalating cell-phone bills, and the old lost in contemplation. This is a place where pleasure is derived from sitting in a fancy restaurant with a loved one and walking through empty streets kicking at cans.

Somewhere along the Gurgaon-Jaipur highway

2009-03-26T11:16:00.000-07:00