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The gift to create form, from the mist of imagination, is pure magic!


Showing posts with label watercolor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label watercolor. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 16, 2025

Gastropoda eroticum

 







20x30 inches; Pen and ink over graphite pencil on tinted drawing paper (Click on image to enlarge)

A fantastic creature has manifested; from the class of molluscs, scientifically named as Gastropoda which we commonly call slugs and snails, blurring the lines between reality and wishful thinking. Its body resembles a human tongue, without eyes and without mouth and its shell is bulbous with psychedelic patterns. It senses the surrounding through touch and taste; flicking, licking and slobbering its way over contoured surfaces leaving a snail trail in its path. It feeds on arousal and grows on providing pleasure. If annoyed it doesn’t hesitate to sting. Sadly not available in pet stores! Not all creatures exist in reality. They are not meant to either! They exist in the fertile world of our imagination. They are manifested in our dreams. They spirit us away into the realms of myths, folklores, stories and virtual reality! A space which distorts reality to preserve the illusion which is reality. Imagination has no rules, no logic and adheres to no scientific reasoning but without its fertile grounds even science can’t grow.

Friday, November 29, 2024

Emasculation

 






20.5x28.5 inches; Watercolour, pen and ink over graphite pencil on handmade paper (Click on image to enlarge)


I am not a masculine man.

I deny to fit into that notion of a man.

I recoil from what I must become

To prove that I am enough of a man.

 

Many tried to make a man

Of what they found in me of a man!

Between my legs lay, for some,

Proof enough to define me as a man.

 

Once I was told by a proud macho man,

“Either you grow into a manly man

Or you must a man’s victim become!”

I wilted and curled into a wimpy man.

 

Teased for being the sissy man,

Bullied for not being a tough man,

I grew up to remain, for some,

A complete disgrace to the name of man.

 

I don’t care to be accepted as a man

Because that which confines every man,

I defied; to breathe my freedom,

I embody the fear of emasculation in each man.

Saturday, September 7, 2024

Mohini

 







20.5x28.5 inches; Watercolour, pen and ink over graphite pencil on handmade paper (Click on image to enlarge)

I dress up for the night. I have washed myself in a bucket of water. A necessity that feels more like a luxury as water is precious. The municipal tap flows for two hours every day. We are a home of eight. That bucket of water was the ocean to me. I rose from it to become Mohini from Mohan.

I put on my makeup. The face powder, I bought with my money. A gift to myself for my last birthday. The kajal pencil, now a 2 inch stub, was generously donated by Padma. The red lipstick I stole from a shop that has pretty ladies working as sales girls. I wish I could get a job like that. Yes, I do earn a living, being a bride for one night to strange lovers, but the money is barely enough for rent, clothes and food.

I look at myself in the mirror. I admire the illusion of beauty I see there. The light from one naked bulb bathes my form in bright light and deep shadows. Like a solar eclipse when Raahu tries to devour the sun. I pluck a stray hair on my upper lip and a wayward eyelash with a pair of tweezers. I place a black dot on the left, over my upper lip, mid-way between the corner of my lip and nostril. Perfect.

I take a band of long soft cloth, cut from an old cotton saree and wrap it around the lower part of my chest. A little tightly, not tight enough to cause trouble breathing. Then I push the soft fleshy upper part of my chest from both sides near the armpits, upwards and inwards towards the centre of my chest. I feel a shiver as I see my cleavage take shape where my chest hair used to be. I adjust the tightness of the band of cloth to keep the cleavage in position.

I wear a sleeveless white blouse with a deep neckline. Deep enough to reveal the cleavage I created but not the means holding it in place. I have a pair of balloons filled with water, something Bobby had taught me. I insert them each in the two empty tents in my blouse which were meant to house soft breasts. The water filled balloons create a bounce that mimics real breasts better than sponge pads. It has its risk too if the balloons burst, but I still prefer it. I roll my shoulder and adjust the strap of the blouse checking the bounce.  

I drape a pearly white chiffon saree with conch shell design embroidered with sequins, the latest fashion popularized by the actress Bhanumati, over my bleached white petticoat. Bleach to keep the spots and germs away. I wish I could bleach away the germs inside me too but that is another story. I look at my reflection in the mirror again. I put on my beaded dangler earrings and a matching bead necklace, stolen from my elder sister, many years ago. The only heirloom I possess to remind me of the family I was born to. I begin to recognize myself now. “Me Mohini!” I whisper.

Now, to complete the transformation I pick up the wig Lakshmi lent me yesterday. She is not going out to meet clients for the next few days. She is not well. High fever with a nasty cough. So, I borrowed her wig; silky and shiny black hair styled in waves like the dark ocean raging inside me. I put it on and flip my head back to feel the hair cascade around my neck. I tilt my head, my eyes half closed as if I am drunk on the nectar of life and I blow a kiss at my reflection.

I pick up my handbag and check if I have the condoms and sachets of lube. A social worker keeps giving us these things for free. Keeps us safe from diseases, she says. There are many dangers other than diseases that come with the territory in the line of my work. I feel far from safe but at least she is trying to keep me safe from one villain. I throw in my comb, lipstick and an antiseptic ointment. I wear my flat slip-on sandals. No heels for me. You never know when you need to run. I switch off the light and I shout “I am going out!” and I step out into the night humming a song to myself.

“I am a bride for a night, every night!

A flickering flame for willing lovers

Who drink from my pot of eternal life,

Turning to dust on the bed covers

At the end of every night, every night!”

Friday, July 26, 2024

Firdaus

 





20.5x28.5 inches; Watercolour, pen and ink over graphite pencil on handmade paper (Click on image to enlarge)

“Agar firdaus bar roo-e zameen ast,
Hameen ast-o hameen ast-o hameen ast.” - Amir Khusrau


My paradise is lost. Was it mine, to begin with? If it was mine, was it paradise?

It was a safe haven for me - Not just a piece of land, not just a garden and an abode I called home,

To make sense of where I belonged. It was my solace, my peace of mind where I carefully hoarded

The fragmented pieces of my mind.

Where the wind blew melodies of the forest and the seas and the lullabies of the starry nights,

Songs that breathed my existence and gave me the reason to call everything mine!

It was the fountain of mirth where the tears of joy sparkled.

It was the cave of sorrow where shadows dried my tears.

A nest that cradled my life calming all my fears, feeding me, clothing me, satiating all my desires…

Then I lost it all!

So violently torn, so bitingly violated that I questioned the verity of my memories.

To become a tumble weed in the desert, a paper boat in the flood, a lump of meat in the feast,

A compass without North!

The beasts come in hoards to eat the leftovers, stripping the meat from the bones,

To gorge on what scraps are left of my humanity in an arena full of spectators who debate;

Shall it be a thumbs up or a thumbs down?

And yet I want to live, I want my love to live, I want my hope to live, I want my tribe to live,

I want to live to find my paradise one more time!

I want to live for our songs of paradise to stay alive.


Friday, November 17, 2023

Tara

 







20.5x28.5 inches; Watercolour, pen and ink over graphite pencil on handmade paper (Click on image to enlarge)

Tara

In the beginning there was void. All pervading darkness and endless nothingness. Yet she was there. She was the void and once awakened she created the entire universe out of her non being. Created life and death, and everything in between. The ‘Samsara’ she manifested out of ‘Maya’ is like a vast sea of the unknown and she was the only guide who could help us to traverse that sea without getting lost and drowning. She is the peril and she is the saviour. She is the void and she is the ‘Tara’ (Star) of light in that void; the duality which is intrinsic to nature.

In Sanskrit, ‘Star’ and ‘crossing’ are the most obvious meanings of the name ‘Tara’. By extension, the name Tara signifies she who guides or carries others across, who navigates others across, and she who protects, rescues, and liberates. Hence Tara’s role as a Devi imbues her with powers of compassion, protection from danger and providing enlightenment. In Tibet, Tara is referred to as ‘Dolma’ meaning saviour.

Tara’s connection to the sea is more strengthened through her inclusion in Hindu theology as a patron of the seas. The Puranas describe her as related to water bodies. This ‘Sea’ may be a very literal interpretation of the much deeper spiritual symbolism of Tara. If this ‘Samsara’ is the endless unknown sea and if each one of us are vessels embarking on a voyage to traverse that sea from our birth to death, we need a compass or a pole star to guide us on that journey. Tara is that pole star who keeps us on track if we trust her wisdom and learn the lessons we need to learn. She slashes through our thick cloud of ignorance and ego with her light of wisdom and saves us from ourselves. The lotus she holds (mostly a blue lotus as seen in her popular iconography) is a symbol of purity, remaining unsoiled in even the most polluting of environments and acts as a constant reminder to us that enlightenment can exist in the world even if the environment is corrupt and polluted.  

Tara is glorified as the 2nd fierce manifestation of Sati, just after Kali, as a Dasa Mahavidya (Ten cosmic wisdoms) in Hindu mythology but Tara’s origins can be traced to ancient Goddesses like Ishtar, Astarte, Isis and Aphrodite, due to the derived similarities in attributed powers, symbolism and ritual practices. All these goddesses were linked with water bodies in some ways and the symbolism of stars or planets. The same connections are easily traceable to the Christian attributes of Mother Mary also known as ‘Stella Maris’ (Star of the Sea). Though such connections may be vehemently opposed and denied by religious zealots who enforce complete separation between Pagan religions and Christianity.

In Hindu Shaiva and Shakta (mostly Tantric) mythology, Tara is seen as a Mother Goddess. Known as another manifestation of Kali, the master of Time, Tara symbolizes the eternal and unfulfilled hunger that fuels life; the hunger to placate all desires and attain spiritual oneness with the Supreme Being. Like a star that perpetually consumes its own energy, Tara represents the never-ending desires that fuel all life. Hindu oral mythology states that other than appearing with the Dasa Mahavidyas, Tara appeared singularly during the pivotal churning of the ocean ‘Kshira Samudra’ (Ocean of Milk), details of which are related in Vishnu Purana. In this legend, Shiva drank the powerful destructive poison ‘Halaahala’ that surfaced from the churning of the ocean by Devas and Asuras without allowing it to go below his neck, thus saving the world from destruction and earning the appellation of 'Neelakanttha'. As a result, Shiva was incapacitated from the effect of the poison and lost consciousness. The Mahadevi took the form of Tara and came to Mahadeva’s aid. She took the supine body of Shiva on her lap and just like a mother breast fed him, her milk acted as an antidote to the poison, and he recovered. This myth also alludes to the myth in which Shiva stops the rampaging Kali by becoming an infant and crying loudly in the blood soaked battlefield. Seeing the baby, Kali's maternal instincts were roused and her rage and blood thirst subsided and she nursed the infant Shiva. In both cases, Shiva assumes the position of an infant in relation to the goddess.

In the 6 sixth century C.E., during the era of the Pala Empire, Tara was adopted into the Buddhist pantheon as an important Bodhisattva figure. Not coincidentally, this was just a few centuries after the Prajnaparamita Sutra had been introduced into what was becoming the Mahayana Buddhism of India.

Tara in the form of the Great Mother Goddess shares strong links with many Hindu goddesses, such as Druga and Kali. The similarities in iconography between Kali and Tara can’t be missed and they are often worshipped as one and the same. They both stand upon a recumbent Shiva, or a corpse. While Kali’s body is depicted in black, Tara is mostly depicted in blue. Both are either naked or wear animal skin (mostly tiger) or a skirt of severed human limbs. Both wear a garland of severed human heads or skulls. Both have a lolling tongue oozing blood from their mouths. Furthermore, like the Goddess Kali, Tara in her Hindu context enjoys drinking blood, whether Deva, Asura, human or animal is of little consequence. The only distinctive feature of Tara is her pot belly and sometimes she is depicted holding a pair of scissors instead of a ‘Kharga’! No doubt her appearance is fearsome and through this fierceness she subdues the ego and commands complete surrender. Her three most famous forms are Ekajata, Ugratara, and Neelasarsvati.

In Buddhist narrative Tara is introduced through the legend of Princess Jnanacandra (moon of wisdom), daughter of Tathagata Dundubhisvara (sound of drum). She performed ritualistic practices for attaining enlightenment for such a long time that the celestial monks advised her to obtain a male body in order to become a bodhisattva. The princess rejected the monk’s advice and vowed to pursue the bodhisattva path in female form stating that "There is neither man nor woman nor self nor personhood nor notion of such. Attachment to [the designations] ‘male and female’ is meaningless, and deludes worldly people with poor understanding… men have always desired enlightenment but not a single woman strives for the benefit of sentient beings. Therefore, I shall follow this path as a woman as long as samsara exists.” In due process she was elevated to the form of Tara.

Both the Hindu and Buddhist legends have one thing in common: Shakti, the strength of the feminine energy and how it defies patriarchal misogyny. Tara as the mother suckles an incapacitated Shiva and nourishes him back to full power. Shiva in the male god tradition is the all-powerful and often destructive force which causes ‘pralay’ if enraged. Such a masculine force needing to be revived by the feminine force from the brink of destruction is quite a difficult concept to digest and acknowledge for many who uphold patriarchy. Patriarchy does not acknowledge that masculinity can be weak and vulnerable to begin with, so drawing strength from femininity at such a vulnerable moment seems to be even more dishonourable. Princess Jnanacandra rejecting the need for a male body to become a bodhisattva also challenges the almighty masculinity driven religious practices and successfully creates a place of reverence for female bodied bodhisattvas. The sad truth though: the fight for femininity to prove its power, again and again, in comparison and in competition with masculinity is still as much a reality as it was in those ancient times! The need for these narratives to resurface has never lost its importance.

References:

Books:

Beyer, Stephen (1978). Cult of Tārā. University of California Press.

Kinsley, David. Hindu Goddesses: Vision of the Divine Feminine in the Hindu Religious Tradition. India: Motilal Banarsidass.

Online sources: 

https://www.newworldencyclopedia.org/entry/Tara

https://kashgar.com.au/blogs/gods-goddesses/tara-a-beautiful-goddess-for-a-not-so-beautiful-world

Monday, May 8, 2023

The Couch

 



16x12 inches; Watercolour, pen and ink over graphite pencil on textured acid free paper (Click on image to enlarge)

The couch, like my mind, is a seat for many encounters; conversations, debates, drama, lazy afternoon siestas, teasing, loving, hating, staining, excitement, boredom, rejection and seduction.  The couch touches strangers and loved ones with the same intimate caress. It is a symbol of privilege and comfort. It is the halt between the entrance door and the bed. It is private and not so private at the same time. It allows us to just exist without being productive, becoming a couch potato. It also is the seat of power and power games as in the casting couch. But beyond all this, the couch is a receptacle for idle thoughts, day dreams, pleasure, pampering, relaxation, entertainment, eroticism, pain and sorrow. Couches are soft with memories without the lumps of judgement. They are cushioned for the depressed, plush with first kisses and frayed with troubled tears.  The couch takes the place of lost comforting embraces and companionship in solitary existence.

Thursday, April 27, 2023

The Closet

 



16x12 inches; Watercolour, pen and ink over graphite pencil on textured acid free paper (Click on image to enlarge)

Do you have a skeleton in the closet? Or are there more than one? Are you in the closet yourself? Did you hide in the closet when you were young and scared? Did you have a Narnia of escape at the other end of the closet? Do you have a closet for your personal belongings and that of others you claim to be your own? Does your closet have a mirror? Is there a closet in your head like mine? A closet full of knickknacks, memorabilia, songs that are playback score of your life, places, whiffs of scents, sights and visions, feelings, traces of a touch, erotica, embarrassments, pain and anger, guilt and guilty pleasures; A closet that opens up like a puzzle and holds a mirror to myself.  I feel at home searching that closet, sniffing the lingering scent of moth balls, looking in the secret compartments, some so deep that they were almost forgotten! It feels like a labyrinth. It is a closet I do not have to come out of, because no one cares for what it hides, though everything it holds makes me who I am today and who I will be tomorrow.

Wednesday, October 20, 2021

Dhatura / Datura

 





29.0 x 9.5 inches; Watercolour, pen and ink over graphite pencil on handmade paper (Click on image to enlarge)

Your face caught in the moonlight

Becomes a moon to the moon,

Two starry eyes glint,

Like pieces of flint

Striking up a fire.

 

The beauty of heat burns my night

My Moonflower trumpets croon.

Your hypnotic gaze

Drags me in the maze,

Fanning my desire.

 

Shadows fold us into earthy delight

Of bodies finding touch, we swoon

Drugged by the nectar,

In each-other’s spectre

Of sensory mire.

 

Psychedelic dreams burn bright

Stinging like thorns of a boon.

Urgency of our need

Scatters the seed

Dousing the pyre.

 

In parting you retreat from sight

No promises of “see you soon”,

Just a lingering heat

Of a shared heartbeat,

Fading strains of a siren’s lyre!

Tuesday, August 3, 2021

Aadi Parashakti (3) - Bagalamukhi / Valgamukhi

 


 12x16 inches; Watercolour, Pen and ink over graphite pencil on acid free textured paper (Click on image to enlarge)

 

The power of speech (Vak), the intent and effect of the spoken word, the ability to communicate and the evolution of language has been one of the pillars of civilization. Words are used to both express and conceal our thoughts, feelings and emotions, our needs and desires. Words are used to lead as well as mislead others. Words convey kindness, compassion, solidarity and empathy but can also hurt and cause immense pain and misery. Words can reveal the truth or conceal it in a cloud of untruths and half truths. Lies repeated over time can be made to appear as the truth through the spoken word. Words can enlighten through sharing of knowledge or it can drown us in ignorance through circulating misinformation and superstitions. Words can be reassuring and kind or threatening and violently abusive. Words can cause a revolution or oppress us through continued denigration. Words ultimately are motivated by our intent. It is our mind motivating the ‘tongue’, and that is where Bagalamukhi finds her reasons to manifest.   

To understand the manifestation of this dynamic feminine energy, as one of the Dasa Mahavidya (10 cosmic wisdom), we need to delve into the mythology of her origins. Other than her appearance during the time when an enraged Sati (First wife of Shiva) brought forward the Mahavidyas to encircle Shiva, Bagalamukhi has two other stories of manifestation.

·         - According to the Swatantra Tantra - A huge storm erupted over the universe in Satya Yuga. It threatened to destroy creation. Lord Vishnu became anxious and called on the supreme power of Aadi Parashakti (Eternal feminine) to protect the universe from destroying itself. Goddess Bagalamukhi emerged from the ‘Haridra Sarovara’ (A yellow lake. She is always associated with the colour yellow) and calmed down the storm.

·         - Another story relates that a demon named Madan performed a very severe ritualistic devotional practice (Sadhana) and received the boon of ‘vak siddhi’, unlimited power of using speech to control and manipulate the world around him. He received the power to turn everything to its opposite with his power of speech. He could make lies become truth and vice versa. He could equivocate with such skill that his opponent was left speechless with self doubt.  He could just express his wish aloud and make those wishes come true. It is not difficult to understand that such powers, if used with evil intentions to harm others, can surely cause widespread suffering! And it is not surprising that Madan abused his powers by using it with malicious intent. Enraged by this complete disrespect and misuse of the power by Madan, the gods invoked Bagalamukhi. Like a harness, she brought the demon under her control by taking hold of his tongue and curtailing his power of speech and in turn stopped him from causing more suffering.

What is apparent in these legends is the power of Bagalamukhi to bring chaos under control. Scholars believe that the word "Bagala" is derived from the Sanskrit word "Valga" which means – constraint, bridle or to rein in. Though there are other opinions about the origin of her name, this is the most popular among them.  She acts as a harness or a restraining power that absorbs the chaos and uses its energy to restore order. The storm is the incarnation of the chaos in our mind caused by opposing turbulent thoughts. She stills our mind with heightened concentration. She illuminates and guides us through contradictions to find peace and inner strength. She also teaches us that the spoken word has the power to do both good and harm. She constantly reminds us that words must be used wisely and our intentions and thoughts behind those words affect the cycle of cause and effect. If we use verbal communication as a tool to always please our ego, those words will only cause pain and suffering to others and in the end such words will lose their power to captivate an audience. In return our ego will suffer and lead us to use more desperate efforts to placate it, if we do not learn when to pull the reins.

Bagalamukhi renders our delusions and misconceptions inert. She stops the toxic cycle created by manufactured misinformation which spreads misery and violence. She paralyses the wagging tongue. She exposes the charade of lies masquerading as truth. She demolishes the notion of invincibility. She is the power that we require the most, in the world we live in now, where the combined greed of the rich and powerful, politicians, law makers, and media keeps injecting us with conceit and deception. No wonder she is not a mass favourite for the civilized society whose foundations are built on pretence, lies and manipulations of the patriarch; where domination is the only form of governance and that domination is achieved through curtailing personal liberty of others, obstructing knowledge, circulating propaganda and instilling fear of violent reprisal if anyone dares to question the imposed norms and dissent.

Over the ages, her worship has become limited to those who crave magical powers or want to keep fatal diseases at bay. Bagalamukhi is praised as the giver of supernatural powers (siddhis) or magical powers (riddhis). She is associated with the colour yellow and is known as ‘Pitambari’ (one who wears yellow). The colour yellow is linked to the sun, gold, ripe grains, fire and all that signifies auspiciousness, bountifulness and purity. Turmeric forms an integral part of her worship. Turmeric is also used as medication and disinfectant in many cultures.

In ‘Bagalamukhi-stotram’, there are hymns in praise of the Devi, which roughly translates into - By the effect of your ‘mantra’ good orators become speechless; the wealthy are reduced to beggars; devastating fires are extinguished. The rage of the angry is calmed; a vicious person becomes virtuous. The agile person becomes immobilized. The conceited become humble. The clever ones become fools. – This denotes that she has the power to turn everything to its opposite. On the face of it, this might mean that worshipping her gives the devotee powers to overcome problematic situations in life and helps to render their enemies useless (which seems to be the most popular motive for her worship). But if we think deeper we understand that she directs our attention to the impermanence of everything we hold dear to us in life, such as wealth, fame, power, success, youth, beauty, ability, pleasure and possession (scary to contemplate for those who are socially conditioned to be obsessed with such achievements to feel accepted) On the other hand adversities, pain, hardship, and everything that causes dissatisfaction will provide us with opportunities to find our true purpose and change ourselves for the better. All that actually matters is our intent. She also makes us aware that everything moves in a cycle and what has begun must end, good fortune will be followed by days of misery, light followed by darkness and virtue followed by vice. Such wisdom is lost on those who aspire to become invincible.

References:

Books -

- Frawley, David (1994). Tantric Yoga and the Wisdom Goddesses: Spiritual Secrets of Ayurveda. Lotus Press. 

- Kinsley, David R. (1997). Tantric Visions of the Divine Feminine: The Ten Mahāvidyās. University of California Press.

- S Shankaranarayanan (2002) [1972]. The Ten Great Cosmic Powers. Samata Books.

Online Sources-

https://vedicgoddess.weebly.com/goddess-vidya-blog/devi-baglamukhi-by-yogi-ananda-saraswathi

https://vedicfeed.com/goddess-bagalamukhi/