Pancha Mahabhoota 3 - Kshiti (earth)

12x16 inches; Pen drawing on acid free textured paper (Click on image to enlarge)

The End Of The World

Here, at the end of the world,
the flowers bleed
as if they were hearts,
the hearts ooze a darkness
like India Ink,
& poets dip their pens in
& they write.

"Here, at the end of the world,"
they write,
not knowing what it means.
"Here, where the sky nurses on black milk,
where the smokestack feed the sky,
where the trees tremble in terror
& people come to resemble them. . . . "

Here, at the end of the world,
the poets are bleeding.
Writing & bleeding
are thought to be the same;
singing & bleeding
are thought to be the same.

Write us a letter!
Send us a parcel of food!
Comfort us with proverbs or candied fruit,
with talk of one God.
Distract us with theories of art
no one can prove.

Here at the end of the world
our heads are empty,
& the wind walks through them
like ghosts
through a haunted house. 

- Erica Jong

Pancha Mahabhoota 2 - Apas (the waters)

12x16 inches; Pen drawing on acid free textured paper (Click on image to enlarge)

The Message In A Bottle

The thirst flows through us.

In our veins,

Yours, mine, ours...

The rivers,

Tributaries,

Waterfalls,

Lakes,

Seas and oceans

Alive with life.

The tides form a cycle

Like life itself.

High then ebbs,

Washes the shore

Breaks

And flows...

Carrying the burden

Of sunken ships

And decay.

‘Pure spring water’ says the label

On bottled paranoia

Served chilled

For quenching thirst.

Free of microbes

Causing diarrhoea,

Added  

With extra mineral...

Life guaranteed.

Water bodies choke with litter.

Discarded

Empty bottles

Of ‘pure spring water’,

Toxic waste

Marinated in acid rain,

Chemical cocktails

And oil spills

Alive with death.

Numerous plastic bottles,

Float out

To sea,

Carrying a singular message:

‘If water turns to poison,

Life will cease

Without hope for recycling,

A discarded empty bottle

Floating in the sea!’

- Rudra Kishore Mandal

Pancha Mahabhoota 1 - Marut (wind/air/storm)

 12x16 inches; Pen drawing on acid free textured paper (Click on image to enlarge)

Subway Wind

Far down, down through the city's great, gaunt gut,

The gray train rushing bears the weary wind;

In the packed cars the fans the crowd's breath cut,

Leaving the sick and heavy air behind.

And pale-cheeked children seek the upper door

To give their summer jackets to the breeze;

Their laugh is swallowed in the deafening roar

Of captive wind that moans for fields and seas;

Seas cooling warm where native schooners drift

Through sleepy waters, while gulls wheel and sweep,

Waiting for windy waves the keels to lift

Lightly among the islands of the deep;

Islands of lofty palm trees blooming white

That lend their perfume to the tropic sea,

Where fields lie idle in the dew drenched night,

And the Trades float above them fresh and free.

- Claude McKay

Desire And Despair

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

Those cards

Boxes of chocolate

Smell of your soap

On my birthday

The touch

Under the blanket

A strand of your hair

On my pillow

The movie ticket

Our hands

In the dark

Mouths

On the roof

Sultry afternoons

Rain drenched

Like the crows

Sound of

Punctured bicycle tyre

Of pleasure

Maybe guilt

Surely Pain

Caught under

The mosquito

Net

Of desire

To learn French

Do French

Seduction

Wine on our

Skin

Thin veil

Of modesty lost

Liberation

In a bathtub

Dancing

Naked and sticky

‘Baby skin’

Whispered

Tickling my ears

Leaving behind

A trail

Sorrow

Of holding

Hands

In public garden

Eyes flirting

Mouths watering

A shared cup

Of ‘Irani chai’

A bite

Of jealousy

On my nipple

Dripping

Honey words

Poetry

Of laughter and

Longing for

Despair

Heart break

Distrust

‘Dry your tears!’

Bitch

The world

Never ends

To the music

Of dance beats

Sweat

Circling

Measuring

Teasing

Pulling each other

Groin to groin

‘kambakht Ishq’

Old monk

In my vein

Passion

In our loin

Kissing

Till the faithful

Are summoned

Morning prayers

Warm embrace

Enchanted sleep

Deception of

Separation

Distance untraveled

Unwanted

Complications of being

Uncomfortably numb

With failure

Dejection

‘What went wrong?’

Nothing went right

Expectations

Stifled and buried

Dreams

In between

Right and wrong

Flows a river

Of longing

Infested with

Ghosts

Drowned possibilities

Piranhas

Of guilt

And a leaky boat of

Salvation is slowly

Ferried by despair.

- Rudra Kishore Mandal

Fluff

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

Every year after the rains are gone, and the autumn sunshine announced the arrival of Durga Puja, with the chill in the air indicating that winter is near... during that time my mom used to bring out all the pillows, cushions and mattresses up on the terrace, to sunbathe them. She insisted on doing this like a ritual every year, to get rid of the musty and unhealthy smell that the prolonged rainy season left behind on everything. She will carefully, almost lovingly, fluff up the pillows and the cushions till they looked like square or rectangular ‘Phulkas’, puffing up on a ‘tawa’ and turn them over at regular intervals. The pillows and cushions will soon become warm and cozy and that is the time when our pet cats, a family of five we had for over six years, will make good use of the soft fluffy playground! The young kittens will play hide and seek among the cushions and roll around, as if the cushions and pillows had been laid out for them. Slowly the warmth will make them drowsy and eventually they will fall asleep. I used to love watching them perform this little drama, and sometimes join in their game with a ball of wool or some other prop. All I have now are the memories of those afternoons, which manage to bring a smile of contentment to my lips, even now. It is like the taste of some delicious jam or pickle you had stolen and tasted once and the taste still lingers in your memory, bringing you pleasure mingled with nostalgia. I still remember the smell of those warm pillows, the feel of the soft fabric, the fluffy fur of the cats, their soft lazy ‘purrrs’ of satisfaction, and the smile on my mom’s face...  Happiness was so easy to find, once!! Yet, many may find it to be nothing but ‘fluff’!

Guilty As charged 7 - Gluttony

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

Gluttony is an emotional escape, a sign something is eating us.

-Peter De Vries, American author and editor

Guilty As Charged 6 - Avarice

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

Greed's worst point is its ingratitude.

- Lucius Annaeus Seneca, Roman Stoic philosopher, statesman, dramatist.