Guilty As Charged 2 - Wrath

8x8 inches (unframed); Watercolour and Pen drawing on Executive Bond paper (Click on image to enlarge)

“I was angry with my friend: I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow.”

- William Blake quotes (English visionary Mystic, Poet, Painter and Engraver. 1757-1827)

Water Ballet

20.5x28.5 inches; Pen drawing on acid free textured paper with watercolour wash (Click on image to enlarge)

The first time I had seen a swan was in a depiction of Goddess Saraswati, sitting and playing the veena on a beautiful white bird, in a calendar image. I had fallen in love with the milky whiteness, the curvaceous neck and the beautiful depiction of plumage. Somehow the image of that bird got stuck in my memory. Somehow that bird symbolized serenity and grace for me. The story of ‘The Ugly Duckling’ only enhanced this imagery in my mind. So many times I have scribbled the letter ‘S’ and transformed it into an idealized design of a swan in my school books. I kept seeing the swan in logos and designs on packets of sweets. The logo of Ramkrishna Mission was very attractive to me once. I have only seen a couple of swans once at our local zoo, and yes I was mesmerized by the way they were gliding around in the artificial pond. Then I watched the ballet ‘Swan Lake’ on television and I was completely enamoured with the beautiful concept. The beautiful imaginary tale ignited my passion for the graceful bird once again. I also read a story about Zeus taking the form of a swan to entice and impregnate Leda, quite an erotic tale it was.  Today, when I look back at my obsession with the lovely bird in my growing years, I feel I was searching for the swan in me all through those years. I guess we all have our swans hidden inside us and only a few can perceive them when they look at us and hence what is ugly to the world becomes so beautiful to a few chosen beholders. I am not yet sure if I, ‘the ugly duckling’ have matured into a swan yet, but this painting is my humble offering to those birds who glide and dance in water captivating me with such beauty, grace and tranquility. 

Sebastian

12x12 inches; Watercolour and Pen drawing on executive bond paper (Click on image to enlarge)
SOLD. In private collection

Sliced by the hands of fate

Criss-crossing lanes

On the palm

Of your hand

Each turn

A choice you make

Each twist

The noose

Around your neck

Either Slackens

Or tightens

Without respite

No way out

Of the maze

Living with the choices

You make

Or dying for them

Whether the heart

Or the mind

You follow

You are twice martyred

And you believe

You have lived.

- Rudra Kishore Mandal

Breakfast Joint

20.5x28.5 inches; Pen drawing on acid free textured paper with watercolour wash (Click on image to enlarge)
SOLD. In private collection

Embarking on a long journey in the sleeper class of a train, tucked in the side lower berth (of course sharing it with a stranger for half of the journey) is how I like to travel. The swinging rhythm, the strange interactions, the plethora of smells, the books with pages curled at the corners, the variety of food, the beggars, the hawkers, observing the behaviour of co-passengers and the sleepless nights... everything has a veneer of adventure. My favourite pass time is to watch the view outside, through the windows of the train. Everything races by in the opposite direction as if fleeing at the news of our arrival. The cities, towns, villages, stations, hills, lakes, rivers, trees, farm lands, bridges, clouds, sun, moon, stars, people... everything rushes by. But sometimes when the train stops, unscheduled, at a remote place between cities or towns and villages, one gets to occasionally observe the undisturbed beauty of nature. Nothing is more refreshing to me after a fidgety night, than the sight of green fields broken by the deep blue creeks dotted with pearly white herons and cranes gathering for their breakfast, washed in the early morning sun light. Sitting huddled on my berth with a cup of steaming tea and a plate of lukewarm ‘puri bhaji’, watching these birds search for their early morning meal in the wilderness is an experience I cherish. 

The Stigma Of Being An Ostrich

13.5x20.5 inches; Pen drawing on handmade paper with watercolour wash (Click on image to enlarge)
SOLD. In private collection

‘Ostrich Syndrome’ is a term used in psychiatry to define a situation of willful ignorance towards uncomfortable situations. It is the refusal of acknowledging something which is blatantly obvious, because one does not want to deal with it. The syndrome is so named because one human, somewhere, believed that an ostrich sticks its head in the sand when faced with danger and the rumor spread like wild fire! Historians believe the saying may have risen from the writings of Pliny the Elder who wrote "...they imagine, when they have thrust their head and neck into a bush, that the whole of their body is concealed" Yet, there is evidence that this is not true. Fact is Ostriches do not stick their heads in the sand or bush to ignore danger (They might do so while looking for food!); we humans do, metaphorically speaking. We are equipped with a defense mechanism called ‘willful ignorance’ which kicks in whenever we are faced with something which threatens our position of power, control or invades our comfort zone. We ignore and wish the threat away and when this does not work, we find a scapegoat to dump the blame on for all the misfortune that has befallen us and scream for retribution. The ostrich surely does not care (And for all we know it might be laughing at our dim-witted behavior) but what about other humans who become victims of stigma, violence and prejudice due to such ignorance? In this era of communication and information boom, it is criminal to remain willfully ignorant. It does not hurt to say, ‘I don’t know but I can find out!’ Awareness is just a click away, and all we do is withdraw more into our wells of ignorance. When we should be inspired to reach out and form more strong human bonds through informed human interactions, all we do is isolate ourselves more within our own castles protecting ourselves from imagined demons! Curiosity seems to have given up its ghost because the answers are so readily available! The power of our collective willful ignorance cannot be overstated and the poor ostrich (along with many other species including humans) is still victimized due to this ‘Human Ignorance Syndrome’! Ironic, isn't it?

Kundalini

13.5x20.5 inches; Pen drawing on handmade paper with watercolour wash (Click on image to enlarge)

Sleeping coiled like an embryo,

In the hollow of my crescent body,

You are distant and yet so close!

I breathe in your scent,

You breathe out my longing

Uncoiling in my loins, like a rose.

You hear my distant call,

A whistle of a train far away

On a silent night it echoes.

You stir and reach back to fumble

Deep into my throbbing memories,

Between my third eye and my nose.

You tingle and travel up my spine,

Igniting the seven spheres of my being,

Bliss like a cold fire in me grows.

You slither in my head like goose bumps,

I open my eyes and receive your lips,

A lotus of thousand petals blows.

- Rudra Kishore Mandal