All for the ale

rangoli from last diwali

There I stood at the bathroom door,
with a precious sanitary napkin on the floor.

All lines were down that day,
that is what the voice on the telephone said.

Giving up and coming back again,
nothing to loose and all to gain.

Realizing how much you wanted to fly,
I declared this was no place to die.

There are hearts to share and seas to sail,
Beautiful fights and drinking some ale.

This is how we could be

Some days will be light;
you fly by me,
i fly by you,
This is how we could be...

Somedays will be heavy;
you carry me,
i carry you,
This is how we could be...

Somedays will just be;
i make your tea,
you make my smile,
This is how we could be

My Bed of Roses - Catalog essay for Balbir Krishan’s Exhibition

“Beauty and love pass, I know... Oh, there's sadness, too. I suppose all great happiness is a little sad. Beauty means the scent of roses and then the death of roses-.”

                                                                                 ― F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise

My Bed of Roses maps Balbir Krishan’s artistic journey since 2010. This exhibition showcases some precious fragments from his prior body of work, and offers glimpses towards the direction the artist is taking in the future. Balbir is one of the few voices from within contemporary art that dwells on the male body; universalising it, personalizing it...painting a form that contains both the grim realities and exalted fantasies of masculinity...a meeting place for utopia and dystopia. 

When one looks at Balbir Krishan's human forms, there is a certain Michelangelesque understanding of the body and celebration of masculinity. Yet, when one looks closer,his edgy masculine forms are laced with the delicate serenity that one sees in the paintings of Ajanta and the miniatures of Kangra. This fusion of sensibilities brings a tension to his art that suggests the point when the erotic-the personal and the political meet. As one looks at the works and puts them in a timeline, it becomes visible that the sculpted masculine body is carrying signs of fragmentation, scarring and delicacy.   

The turn of the century has witnessed a radicalization or inversion of the power equation in the dominant discourse of representation.  Eroticized exhibition is not restricted to the female body anymore, but the male body too has made its appearance in this arena, where the male character, in a narrative, not only engenders narcissistic identification, but also becomes an erotic spectacle and a fetishized object. 

Balbir Krishan is known for an erotic and confrontational depiction of homoerotica. His works are attractive and yet deeply provocative. In recent times, intolerance towards homoerotica and any challenge to mainstream sexuality has grown in the country. His 2011-12 exhibition‘Out Here and Now’ was vandalised by members of what may have been the political or religious right. Yet his works have managed to find an increasingly large audience. His use of a language, which is close to mediatic realism, adds to the sensual attraction of his works, taking them into a zone between the commodity and the inconsumable.

The artist stands in the zone between craft and concept. At one point he imagines a painting completely and then trans-creates it on paper or canvas, and at that point it feels that the medium is almost incidental, just a mode to capture the concept. At another level the artist's choice of medium is very conscious and particular. He works on found paper, often pages from art catalogues, brings out his forms through erasing and then renders them with a ball point pen. This approach is carried out in his canvases too. Found erotic imagery from the internet is collaged onto a canvas, forms that we see are but remnants of painted oversurface, finished with fine skill.

As a self-trained artist sometimes one becomes very conscious about his skill; there is an urge to declare one's ability to paint, to conjure up forms, of being able to re-present. Balbir has developed his own language where he builds his forms through erasure and drawing. Technique for him is not only a mode of representation but also a mode of physical engagement and meditation. There is a deep engagement with physical labour that goes behind every work; hours of erasing, over painting and fine drawing in its own way speak of the deep physicality of sexuality- both as sexual and as cultural experiences.

The Woman Inside: The Fable of Shiva, Mohini and Harihar

Thematically, Balbir has largely been interpreted from the prism of masculinity and fantasy, yet it is hard to ignore larger social narratives that run though his works. His 2011-12 series ‘Out Here and Now’ is not just an artistic and personal coming out of the closet, it also carries it an urge to fissure contemporary Indian social narratives about erotica and manifestation of sexuality. However, his journey is not just about disjuncture and rethinking/ reimagining his encounter with masculinity, it is also about weaving this rethinking/ reimagining with the larger universe of his cultural existence.  This larger universe consists of personal relationships with history, culture, ecology...even melancholia. In his works one can see a reclaiming of mythology, development and loneliness woven into a deeply personal fantasy.

This connection between the personal and the universal brings Balbir’s work into a relationship with the tension between utopia and dystopia that informs our contemporaneity. His paintings create both the moment of pause and the moment of provocation, opening possibilities within each viewer to feel what may be his or her own beatific, but potentially thorny bed of roses.

By Now

By now my energies have given birth to a fungified birthday cake
It is the best time to dream of the year ahead
Some beautiful flowers a born in early winters
Yet we keep our celebrations for spring

By now my energies have taken away all those photographs
Which i had come down specially to see
Yes other things matter more
But home is always where the heart is

By now my eyes strain to see a little boy...his shy nervous smile
But you see,  i am his enemy
And with every bit of poetry i write
Words loose their meanings.

bengal and it's hindu gods

we worship laxmi, but we don't really really  celebrate her
we celebrate durga , kali and sarwaswati
between lashmi and saraswati we move towards sarswati
we are happly outdated in this matter
there is no love lost for ram
sita and ravan are closer to our hearts
we worship laxmi, but we don't really really  celebrate her

not the way you think

no it is not the way you think\

i am not stuck on a four letter word

whose meaning you don't even know

that word might speak later

but it is absolutely not the way you think

some questions are only asked to strangers

to the self they cannot be asked at all

when there are no rules in the games we choose to play

why cry foul at all?

no it is not the way you think

about a year ago, the story had not ended

a beautiful story had begun

of trust, of trust of just trust

trust is a five letter word

but two souls give it meaning

another year will go by

just wishing that we breath and we grow

i am not stuck on a four letter word

whose meaning you are getting to know

magic magic magic 

Profiling Pooja Sood

Helmut Dick, Neheru Pace Delhi, as a part of Khoj 2006 Public Art Residency.
33 Helmut Dicks are visiting New Dehli moving sculpture, 2007. After arriving with a transport vehicle Dick started to unload and build up standing cardboard images of himself. The cut –out prints have slightly confused and amazed looking facial-expressions and wear the same clothes like the ‘real’ working Dick is wearing. After a total of 32 figures were set up Dick started to reload ‘himself’ back into the transporter… 

A Pooja Sood profile  i had written in 2006 monsoons...then as sr. editor mattersofart.com...it has been seven years, so much has changed...so much has not. The Passion To Explore mattersofart.com takes a look at the energy that appears to benchmark Pooja Sood’s curatorial skills, adding value to a still-nascent profession When mattersofart.com took the editorial decision to re-think the ‘Artist of the month’ and reposition it as ‘In Focus’, the attempt was to be able to broaden the possibilities and enable one to feature personalities who have been making a difference to the course of contemporary Indian art. It was also to be able to look beyond artists and ‘to bring in focus’ practices which are exciting and cutting edge. Profiling Pooja Sood, as the first non-artist ‘In Focus’ was initially prompted by two back-to-back curations that happened in mid-September at KHOJ (Public Art Residency) and then at the Apeejay Media Gallery (Ghosts in the Machine and other Tales, video, sound, animation and interactive media). It is difficult to remember two large ‘alternative’ art ‘event/spectacles’ curated in near simultaneity by one curator in India. As one continued to be clued to her, one realised that her intensity of programming just continues. At KHOJ, Sood followed up her summer residency by curating Vasuda Tazur and Brendan Jamison in continuation with its rendezvous with public art and her engagement in trying to locate the new genre in the Indian urban context. KHOJ has only just now wound up a Sound Art Residency and is about to explore ‘Water’ as a medium before it goes back to re-interrogating Performance Art. An exhausting load of programming by any standard, and if there is something that defines Pooja Sood’s curatorial practice, it is her ‘bundle of energy’ and with it the desire to push margins...sometimes with all that energy. Every time one attempts to label her as a curator, there is a resistance that creeps up one’s fingers as they write.  If one has to adequately analyse her functional ‘role’ in Indian contemporary art, to bracket her as a curator is to take the easy way out. This ignores the energy gone into institution building and their pedagogical value. And if one is to ignore the energy, then Pooja Sood becomes shallow as an ‘exciting curator”; but it is not possible to ignore her as a fundraiser and institution builder. Casting her is a task that demands a critical fineness, which makes it enticing. Through the late 1990s when traditional institutions, particularly those not supporting a certain right wing culture, were winding down, especially in the context of culture, Sood carried forward the experience she had gained from Eicher Gallery, playing a pivotal role in structuring KHOJ, and nursing it to make it the hub of alternative art practices. Underlying all the curations (de-curatrions?) at KHOJ is Pooja’s passionate agenda to explore something new.  Critically speaking, one can disagree with the framework within which she operates: urbanism is understood and practiced in both KHOJ and Apeejay in a manner, which is elitist, if one goes by certain definitions of elitism. Even at the micro-project level, there are possibilities to ‘fault’ the presentations of the KHOJ projects, the manner in which they are conceptualised, and the criticism it does not allow. But then, it is also possible to dis-acknowledge the restrictions within which she operates.  She is arguably the best fund-raiser for experimental art projects and the manner in which she has channelised her skills to “constantly push for something new…something exciting”. In fact, this ‘push’ for the exciting is what marks her curatorial practice and her contribution to the contemporary Indian art scene. The kind of artists she has in introduced and nurtured is a very good indication of her curatorial skills (if one looks at curation as being able to sense and put together art practitioners in a certain way). At this point, there is also a certain flourish, a certain coming to age, which reflects in the work that she does. “After 40 you just don’t care” , that kind of hedonism is tempered by her realisation that for her to really exploit pedagogical value additions she is capable of making in contemporary Indian art, she needs to pay heed to the academic interest within her. She needs to revisit all the possibilities that she has only skimmed through till now and explore the full impact of the ‘mediamatic’ and the ‘practitional’ explorations she has indulged in. But then, Pooja will always be driven by her ‘bundle of energy’ and ‘going slow’ is not her ‘style’.

A Pooja Sood profile  i had written in 2006 monsoons...then as sr. editor mattersofart.com...it has been seven years, so much has changed...so much has not.

The Passion To Explore

mattersofart.com takes a look at the energy that appears to benchmark Pooja Sood’s curatorial skills, adding value to a still-nascent profession

When mattersofart.com took the editorial decision to re-think the ‘Artist of the month’ and reposition it as ‘In Focus’, the attempt was to be able to broaden the possibilities and enable one to feature personalities who have been making a difference to the course of contemporary Indian art. It was also to be able to look beyond artists and ‘to bring in focus’ practices which are exciting and cutting edge.

Profiling Pooja Sood, as the first non-artist ‘In Focus’ was initially prompted by two back-to-back curations that happened in mid-September at KHOJ (Public Art Residency) and then at the Apeejay Media Gallery (Ghosts in the Machine and other Tales, video, sound, animation and interactive media). It is difficult to remember two large ‘alternative’ art ‘event/spectacles’ curated in near simultaneity by one curator in India. As one continued to be clued to her, one realised that her intensity of programming just continues. At KHOJ, Sood followed up her summer residency by curating Vasuda Tazur and Brendan Jamison in continuation with its rendezvous with public art and her engagement in trying to locate the new genre in the Indian urban context. KHOJ has only just now wound up a Sound Art Residency and is about to explore ‘Water’ as a medium before it goes back to re-interrogating Performance Art. An exhausting load of programming by any standard, and if there is something that defines Pooja Sood’s curatorial practice, it is her ‘bundle of energy’ and with it the desire to push margins...sometimes with all that energy.

Every time one attempts to label her as a curator, there is a resistance that creeps up one’s fingers as they write.  If one has to adequately analyse her functional ‘role’ in Indian contemporary art, to bracket her as a curator is to take the easy way out. This ignores the energy gone into institution building and their pedagogical value. And if one is to ignore the energy, then Pooja Sood becomes shallow as an ‘exciting curator”; but it is not possible to ignore her as a fundraiser and institution builder. Casting her is a task that demands a critical fineness, which makes it enticing.

Through the late 1990s when traditional institutions, particularly those not supporting a certain right wing culture, were winding down, especially in the context of culture, Sood carried forward the experience she had gained from Eicher Gallery, playing a pivotal role in structuring KHOJ, and nursing it to make it the hub of alternative art practices. Underlying all the curations (de-curatrions?) at KHOJ is Pooja’s passionate agenda to explore something new. 

Critically speaking, one can disagree with the framework within which she operates: urbanism is understood and practiced in both KHOJ and Apeejay in a manner, which is elitist, if one goes by certain definitions of elitism. Even at the micro-project level, there are possibilities to ‘fault’ the presentations of the KHOJ projects, the manner in which they are conceptualised, and the criticism it does not allow. But then, it is also possible to dis-acknowledge the restrictions within which she operates. 

She is arguably the best fund-raiser for experimental art projects and the manner in which she has channelised her skills to “constantly push for something new…something exciting”. In fact, this ‘push’ for the exciting is what marks her curatorial practice and her contribution to the contemporary Indian art scene. The kind of artists she has in introduced and nurtured is a very good indication of her curatorial skills (if one looks at curation as being able to sense and put together art practitioners in a certain way).

At this point, there is also a certain flourish, a certain coming to age, which reflects in the work that she does. “After 40 you just don’t care” , that kind of hedonism is tempered by her realisation that for her to really exploit pedagogical value additions she is capable of making in contemporary Indian art, she needs to pay heed to the academic interest within her. She needs to revisit all the possibilities that she has only skimmed through till now and explore the full impact of the ‘mediamatic’ and the ‘practitional’ explorations she has indulged in. But then, Pooja will always be driven by her ‘bundle of energy’ and ‘going slow’ is not her ‘style’.

Proposed Electoral Reforms

Not only was the birth of Buddha preceded by his mother dreaming of an elephant entering her womb...even Buddhist Jatakas talk about the enlightened being born as the elephant king. 

Dream of Maya Devi, Sculpture Medallion on the railings of the Bharut Stupa, now the Indian Museum Kolkata

/We are standing at a historical juncture ( not of the entire mankind but of modern and post-modern cultures) where it is slowly sinking in that voting does not reflect the act of choosing. Moreover, we have lost faith in the Social Contract Theory, and we no longer know what to expect from the government.  People living under dictatorships are fighting for democracy and yet people living withing democratic setups are yearning for dictators. But right now we are not in a position for a system overhaul, we are yet to imagine a post-democracy. Nonetheless, democracy is not just any another 'crazy'. People are passionate about it, give their lives for it....billions of dollars/euros/rupees are sent on it. It seems that the time has come to strip down democracy to its essentials...and then try to make it better. 

Illustration From ohn Lockwood Kipling entitled "Choosing the next King" for a story in Flora Annie Steel's Tales of the Punjab (Macmillan 1894)

It seems that democracy essentially has two ingredients. 

1. To ensure that feudal or totalitarian social+economic structures do not continue. Rulers need to be rotated, and the theories of divine right to rule or hereditary right to rule have become unfashionable and we want to be ruled by prime ministers and presidents...not kings, not Furhers. 
2. Democracy was invented for the enlightened man (and then subsequently women)to vent his/her agency in politics. This participation also gives a ritual validity to the people and positions who govern us.  

Keeping these two needs in mind I propose (till we brainstorm/ + revolutionize a way out of electoral democracy), we go back to the old ritual of letting elephants choose the king. Ok, first of all, there will be no king. Just our regular councillors, MLAs, MPs and that sort.  Just that election day will have a different name and on that day in every ward/constituency an elephant will be released and the person whom the elephant chooses will win. Then all the winners can get together elect a ministry and rule us.  Our return to Ayurveda and naturopathy proves that we (re)acknowledge that nature is wiser (more enlightened?) than us. Democracy is all about enlightened choice, isn't it?

Only the people who want to be chosen need be out on the streets along with the election commission observers. (and the media!!), there will be no need for campaigning, rioting, opinion polling and so many other ings. (including voting)

This is an extremely urgent change, the only way we can make democracy free, and functional in a world where enlightenment is a disbelief. The change will also enable us to watch TV or party or surf on social net working sites while democracy is taken care of.

Moreover, we won't need the ministry of the environment, we can be sure that elephants will not choose someone who will be harmful to animals and forests  

Death of Politics and Other Memories

I carry vivid memories of 2002Gujarat, how some students of Faculty of Fine Arts also indulged in burning cars and other such acts of vandalism. Remember being startled to realize that the neighborhood uncle was stocking up kerosene for the rioters and everyone was giving whatever weapons they possessed to the army of rioters. Remember mid night meetings in Muslim ghettos where elders would tell the youth that the situation was hopeless request them not to retaliate, just if they can flee with their lives.  

            Remember the newspaper updates we would get, the feeling that Modi will not get away with it. That voiced inside my head that always asked how the vegetable vendor knew six hours in advance that there will be large scale rotting. Godra had just happened, the news was settling in, I was buying vegetables and being told to stock up because there are going to be riots and curfews.  The sinking feeling when Modi came back to power with a tremendous majority. That realization that how we were all wrong; this is exactly what the public wanted…

          This time i see on Facebook how people are threatening to un-friend Modi supporters, the angry censoring of right wing voices by the secularities. I wonder in case Modi becomes the Prime Minister; will my friends un-friend the nation?  Essentially politics is different from history because contestations over realities and contestations over power are two different things.  In fact in many cases historical reality and political reality will stand in conflict. It takes good politics to be able to understand this difference and make political choices.  It also takes acertain clarity to realize that politics is not about ethics (maybe parts ofpolitical science is), but it is about power.  

            I would like to do some stock taking as we run up to the 2014 elections. Since the 2002 riots we have fought two battles with Narendra Modi...the two state elections that have happened since.  We lost both of them badly. In fact during the last state elections we were so half hearted that it cannot even be called a battle. In this period of twelve years Mr Narendra Modi has honed his skills in self projection and mystification. He has also understood that politics is on promises of a future and not on memories of the past.  

It is time we faced that the urban Indian Hindu is largely communal. She/he believes that Muslims are originally intruders and Islam was speared largely through the might of sword. (It is completely another story that this myth was created by right wing fanatics but (even) by very secular historians like Romila Thapar). This myth that masquerades as commonsense is what lends popular legitimacy to the promise of a Hindu Rashtra. I have heard my own aunt tell me that what happened in Gujarat 2002 was bad...but maybe the Muslims deserved it...she is not even on Facebook...what do i do to un-fiend her...and what will it achieve.  

 India seems impatient for change, and Modi seems impatient for power. For all the development talk and recent ranting that favor building toilets over building temples...Modi has put Amit Shah in charge of Uttar Pradesh.  Sine then the communal landscape of the state has been changing, western U.P is now more riot prone it has ever been since partition.  Just like in 2002 Gujarat was the key for Modi, in 2014 Uttar Pradesh has become the key.

            Maybe the impatient India deserves this impatient Narendra Modi. Sometimes i feel that it might be good if Narendra Modi wins.  If we could survive Aurangazebs, Shivajis and Indira Gandhis, I do not see how Narendra Modi will suddenly change the political-cultural fabric of central south Asia. My eight years in Gujarat has convinced me that Modi is a medium grade administrator, incapable of building institutions and absolutely incapable of dealing with non Hinduavta world views. No amount of shouting from roof tops can convince the new Narendra Modi fan that Modi can be no messiah. Maybe only a five year prime ministerial term can do that. Let Modi deal with deeply entrenched IAS, IPS lobbies with an independent judiciary. There is a chance that after five years Narendra Modi will be finished as a politician. Because once he looses Delhi after winning it...it can’t go back and be the chieftain of Gujarat. 

            The thing is that at this moment we are not equipped to fight Modi. His swelling support base does not like logic and reasoning.  Allegedly they are patriotic Indians , allegedly they are very disturbed by the falling Indian rupee...but not one of them will stop buying gold, or cancel a foreign holiday at the time of a national crisis.  Like it or not, this is how it is; and the fundamental lesson in politics is not to deal with how it should be but with how it is.  

           In the mean time, we have miles to go before we sleep. Before the 2018 elections we need to develop a of language favoring cultural and religious heterogeneity without parroting the notions of western secularism. The liberal intelligentsia has to be much more proactive in the world of vernacular cultural expressions. We need to de-neoliberalise ourselves and present a model for the future directions of India. Moreover, we need to ensure that rhetoric of attacking the religious right does not end up sounding like supporting the discredited Congress Party.  

         

Till then we will pretty much do what Modi does....suppress voices that dissent to our world view and layout no models or concrete action plans for the future. 

Curator's Note: Friendly Strangers

Empty Spaces have the most energy fields than anything else in the universe; and all the object, matter, particles we know, constitute just ten percent of the universe....or even less. The fascination for the dark matter and empty spaces…and more importantly the floating energy fields within is what binds Ajay Narayan and Shridhar Iyer together. This engagement allows me to curatorially put together two artists who are stylistically poles apart. Yet, inspite of the stylistic difference, Shridhar and Ajay have worked together in collaboration in terms of sharing of ideas and space.

In a strict sense this is not a ‘two man show’. Friendly Strangers is a essentially Ajay Narayan solo with Shridhar Iyer giving it support. Shridhar has been celebrating a quiet journey of discovering a new medium, and is seeding a very strong series. Ajay on the other hand is maturing within his early style. One is more focused on matter one more on energy. Yet together they are engaged in re-presenting the unknown. The unknown that is falling out of fashion as the world becomes more material obsessed and Man lands on Mars.   

---------------------------------

From the series Journey through Images and Objects (Yog Maya) Shridhar Iyer,  Wood Straw and Fishing Net 32"  x  36" . 

From within the gharana of contemporary abstraction from Bharat Bhavan, Shridhar Iyer has been exploring the unknown energy and force of the Universe primarily through the medium of painting and drawing. Yet, even within the gharana Iyer is a break…a self-taught burst of energy. Highly experimental in life and work, Iyer has often made forays into installation based art practices, but it is in the last one and a half month, working in NIV center's basement studio, the artist has for the first time produced a body of work that shows a sustained engagement with alternative mediums and new sculpture. 

Using mediums like coconut tree, fishing nets, cloth and wood straw,  dye, Iyer continues his engagement with the vast unknown...this time focusing on the energy fields that occupy the spaces between us and our known objects. He combines this representational quest with the love for the organic and the perishable. The artist has pledged himself to a spiritual connection with the universe, for him all the energy fields surrounding us are eternal, omnipresent, powerful, ethereal and friendly.In this series Journey through Images and Object (Yog Maya)  we will get a first look at a new and very important body of work in the context of sculptural abstraction.  

 ----------------------------------------

 

Ajay Narayan,
Reflection of space on the surface of sea,

Acrylic on canvas

Ajay Narayan has been painting to invoke concealed, obscure descriptions of the visible world. His recent works are an engagement with the vastness of space, the incomprehensible eternal dark matter within which planets, stars and galaxies float.  This series echo this inquiries into the universe through gazing at the night sky and encountering its sublime.

His painted canvasses and fiberglass sculptures capture this beauty...dwelling on the floating objects through the gaze of friendship, and his love for colour and impasto.

There is a love for the edgy zone between the decorative and the aesthetic/ synthetic and the eternally natural.  Living inside an urban environment it becomes more important to look at the great eternity.    

Memories of growing up with Chinmoy

My library work was over, and we often caught up for tea and cigarettes. Then one evening Chinmoy was busy: after weeks of waiting the department had just received some stone. With itching hands he began drawing on the stone... a skull appeared… rendered in bold lines with piece of brick.

It was a rough piece of marble... people who have grown up in art colleges will know that many survive on free loads of quarry rejects. It had grains and cracks all over... the sun was setting as Chinmoy started carving into that piece of stone.... and I no memory of how long it really took Chinmoy to finish carving the sculpture. Every evening after classes… or just on some lazy afternoons we would be sitting, sharing cigarettes, talking, as Chinmoy carved way... he even let me try my hand at carving it… careful to let me chip off a block only where the stone was to be broken and discarded… and not a part of the main sculpture... yet with very watchful eyes, because the stone had deep grain lines running through large portions... one false chip and it was liable to break.

By then I had already fallen in love with how he understood the medium of sculpture, how, based in academic understanding of material and form, he was able to conjure up an extremely contemporary visuality. So I was eager... waiting to see Chinmoy finish the work.





Later, months later, I found myself in Ellora. Coming from an academic institution that that almost hyper-specialized in medieval sculpture and architecture, we spent days in Elllora… waking up every morning... discussing every ground plan, every motif... every sculpture... and it was there that I learnt that I can only understand the sculptor’s understanding of the human form, and know the quality of carving by touching the sculpture.

By the time I came back Chinmoy had received a BFA in sculpture. His final piece was a beautiful, daring rendition of the skull. Standing in front of the piece, I could not resist my urge to touch it. At the very first touch I fell in love completely. As the hand traveled to the back of the skull--feeling the subtle invisible modulations--I could feel the sheer joy the artist had taken to sculpt the form. If you closed your hand and simply touched the back of the piece, you’dyou would know that it was a skull.

Eventually, as it always happens, time passed. As we grew up, authorship, form , even carving became unfashionable words. Much later, after college, when we were all floating and trying to find some ground beneath our feet, I learnt that the work had been acquired by the prestigious collection of Anupam Poddar (Devi Art Foundation was yet to be conceived though the collection was already viewed as a benchmark for emerging ‘new art)’. It gave us all an impetus, chiseled us into a swing of high spirits. We quickly forgot the far off cities and the occupation called survival.

Then again, as it always happens... time passed again. By now I was in Delhi, writing and editing, and Chinmoy was gaining recognition as one of the best talents emerging out in contemporary Indian art. The artist was visiting Delhi, to see his work on display.. On that visit I traveled with Chinmoy to see the collection, where I met old friends such as the skull that I myself had a hand in.

As I stood in front of the skull after so many years, I could not resist the urge... I reached out and touched the skull. I was glad to know that all that memory was not just fantasy... that the cold marble touching my hands still had the same effect. Cold, but polite stares from the staff made me realize that my touch was no more welcome. I mumbled an apology, smiled and went outside to smoke a cigarette...

originally published in  http://www.thefuschiatree.com