watersketch of birds

(ink, salt and water on paper, 13X13 inches)

monotone mantras

i love it when i sit in the sun
in a life mundane.
and think of you

breakfast, lunch, dinner, breakfast, lunch....
work, home, cooking, trains, roads, walks, work, home,...
coffee, chai,phone,meetings, money, clicks, flicks, flops, coffee, chai...

circles continue like monotone mantras sung for good !

you come around
near my ear, just for a moment or two
i look for your hand
...
are you there?
i am scared now.
monotone mantras have no space for a little dream:
of us standing in front of a giant sculpture
on the face of the blowing wind.

faith and i

prayer flags in dharamshala, oil pastels on paper

nicobar: between memory & record

these are works form the islands
now a part of something i am in a process of writing.

birds sleeping 1,2,3

1.

2.

3.

Teresa island

teresa is an island in the central group of nicobar islands, near Chowra island. the sea is very rough near these islands and many times ships return before they reach the shore. As i keep saying over and again, people in the islands are just too loving, just the opposite of the rough sea. here is a dream i had last night as i try to remember it...

the ship going to Campbell bay,Great nicobar embarks at Teresa for sometime. i get off the ship and start walking towards the other end of the island, on the one and only road.Met an old uncle who took me to see something which has newly come up in the island.

suddenly the road joins the river.
there was a river.very small river.
and a very very huge dam geting built on it.big concrete standing tall.
stones getting thrown by bulldozers.
land all empty.
forest shifted off the river bank.(dont know how they did it).
fat government officers speaking loudly.
small villagers hanging around.
uncle says,stay with us.his face smiling,wrincles shining in the sun.

the ship honked.honked again.honked the last time.
and i ran towards it to get in.

*there is no river out here in actuality.there isnt any dam.the shore is damaged and people are trying hard to oevrcome the post tsunami crisis.

borders by Nigel Jenkins

What begins for you

where the waves break

sea or land, land or sky

depends on where you?re coming from,

depends on where you?re going to

and whether you

have legs or fins, lungs or gills.

-Nigel Jenkins

like salt in the sea

granules is me
living in you
like salt in the sea
eyes are sea
sea is home
home is eyes
my tear is yours
and we become sea

leftovers 1,2,3

1
2
3
(leftovers1,2,3 ink and salt on paper
with dash of an oil pastel)

tattoo story

the shop in Dharamshala did a 'permanent' tattoo which fell off in 4 days!
here is the real new one which will never fall.and here is me tripping on it.
i am now getting ambitious and wanting these things all over me.

tattoo shop

(drawing in Dharamshala, Himachal Pradesh outside a tattoo shop)

as

as i grow on you
you grow inside me
bit by bit
making me an ocean
of your moon.

in a cupboard with an old shirt

junuka2009 in sketchbook

Tagged!

I have been tagged by Soo to do sixth picture meme.here is the 6th picture from my 6th folder.

I recently met my little cousin Ila in goa. She lives in a small town of goa.She is 10 and loves talking in konkani and likes to run around all the time.These are her chappals, always parked in the corner of the courtyard.

Now i am tagging:
1. Anish
2. Noopur
3. Chaitanya
4. Smitha
5. Manaswini
6. Apoorv

This is what you have to do:

1. pick the 6th picture from your 6th photo folder.
2. tell the story around it.
3. pass it onto 6 other people you like.

spying an old shirt

junuka 2009

bheempalas 3

high on you.

on
my home with wet walls
on a road with rain drops.

and when my walls fall apart

you trickle in.

bheempalas 2

no trace of rest
you all keep me busy.

there is a memory of living in a cold green shadow
and there is one of hot blue thickness.
oh and i fergot about that one blowing wind on a very very old night
when i saw you.
BLANK
now i run around a polluted ball of mist, finding memories!
with bheempalas.

bheempalas 1

walking up the memory lane sometimes i shut certain doors.
i know they will open and i wish they wouldn't.
'bheempalas' opened them and made me feel, why were they ever shut?
it was a pleasant surprise.

more to come, memories are an irresistible species.

noise

open wires make noisy noise.
these connections make it wise.
i watch you asleep.
deep in me.
and then some sparks.
here and there.

you don't know where i live.
neither do i.
but still

i watch the roof fall.
on us.

city feels like a solitary confinement.
new year wishes with love and hope.
in solidarity,
junuka

a
big
black hole says,
welcome!
hit enter?

sketchbook,day 4 and the end.

sketchbook, day3

sketchbook,day2

sketchbook,day 1

attended the famous sawai gandharva music festival in pune for the first time.
posting the sketchbook here for you.

an ode to deleting

i cant vanish you.can i?

i dont know how to hide you

but webmaker webmaker

tell me how to live without you?

altered was the light

studio lamp on 27nov08

about not having anything to say

about not having anything to say is something i started to say but i dont know how to say it because i really dont have anything to say in particular but that doesnt mean i dont say things so this is to say that i have something to say but i feel i have nothing to say.
nonsense?
sense is unnatural.caution is unnatural.humility is?
rules are unnatural.highways are unnatural.making is?
art is unnatural.may be science too.food is?
cavewoman tied creepers around her i tie truths.
what is truth?what i see is truth.but i see lies so lies are actually the truth.
point is basically all has gone w-a-r-p-e-d in perspective!

Eames says

Charles Eames was a famous designer and design thinker..
a quote from a book about him i read,i thought i should share it here.

He often quoted from bhagvad geeta,"work done with anxiety about results is far inferior to work done without such anxiety,in the calm of self surrender."And he often attributed this idea to the physicist Richard Feynman,"Choose your corner,pick away at it carefully,intensely and to the best of your ability,and that way you might change the world."

book:100 quotes by Charles Eames, edited by Carla Hartman and Eames Demetrios

it seems

it seems a game of truths and lies

the moon has too many eyes

though all are yours, two are mine

untitled

(ink on paper, 20X18cm)

i cant do it .

title has to be found

at12noon in the life of a certain professional...

1...2,3,4....1....2,3,4

in my ears
you breathed
hot
scolding air
and
prolific sound of your whiff

you made me
sing inside

you are the life
but today you scared me.

in rhythm.

i am not am i

full of moons
i swing
feet float flown
heavy, as air before the rain.

clogged
tough i stay
witty waiting wailing (a little)
dreaming, as water in a pond.

big and round
beautiful and glowing
slow and graceful, it all seems.
but nothing comes out.
just nothing.

though

am not scared,you are.

pages to water and sky

(oil pastels on paper, 22X16cm)

201

footnote:

the ratio (almost) 200days: 200 posts seems (almost)unreal to me considering my relentless but failed attempts of regularities (almost) everywhere else.

series: mission mute

(ink on paper,21x29cm)

certain train notes-part 2

certain train notes -part 1

footnote:all this actually is just nothing else but killing time.

sur ban lay Thaye (when sur becomes lay)

Ajab Duniya jaariya kahan hai
jaan paryo na mein ka, aage paachhe re

baithe jyo guni yeh hai, poochhat inaso mein
bataide kahan, ye aage paachhe re

(raga :hameer, composition by Pt.Kumar Gandharva)

why am i quoting this?
because this starts running in veins,
a truth again to be narrated in an expression.
a sur.a lay.a feeling.
he does it and you carry it within.
one doesn't only sing it.
it kills me.
just that.

ajab duniya continues
(in a loop)

leftovers and unfinisheds

in my window

(in my window,pen and ink on paper)

k a j a r i

preet kari toh ab kyun roye
ro ro apna jeevan khoye
kyun mathe tilak lagaye sajaniya?
(from a traditonal 'kajari'in Des)

may be when i have no answers
i grope with the words written by unknown people
lost in tradition.alive in music.
if there were answers,nothing would be
written or sung or expressed.
(note:preet,here i feel is love at large in all its forms felt towards all alive and gone)
and may be the ultimate is to get lost to never find it!

"get lost",they say.it makes sense.

it happens only in ahmedabad

as it is

amazed

surprised
romantic
circulating
upsetish
hanging
wondering
freezing
running
alone
i sit in one place.

a railway platform.

UNAFFECTED@4AM
(misty,dark and cold light travels from one to other)

my grandma gave me a bangle

(my grandma gave me a bangle, 20cmX26cm, ink and ballpen on paper)

one end of the two

(one end of the two,ink on handmade paper, 20cmX18cm)

in there

RAIN DOESN'T TELL
HER ANYTHING
ANYMORE.
IT JUST
GIGGLES AT HER
PUTS HER BACK IN THERE .
YOU CAN ONLY SEE HER HAIR.

the two

bihag and marubihag come along like two friends,
two ends of the same spectrum.
of sweetness and of pathos.
of undying hope and of longing.
complementary and yet connected.
i found my dry eyes shining back with water.
and i could relate to the bandish.eyes are an only truth.

e mora re
tumaso laagi
laagi naina
laagi naina, hamare

aao aao garava lagao
sada rang more balama re
e mora re

(naina:eye; mora:mine; garava:neck,body; balama: friend)