Touch

10th June '2014

Touch.
A light touch.
Just a li'l feathery stroke.
So light on a sleeping back.
Like a pebble in a still lake.
Some ripples cascade.
Then the stormy silence and silence.
That's what a touch is all about?

But where do the ripples go?
Is there an underground chamber under all the lakes in the world,
where they go and hide?

On my way

21st June '13

I’m stuck around the corner

so stuck I cannot move

a wedge is there

sharp and pointed and hurting

I’ll wear a gown of feathers blue and fly to you

all the soothing soothe

in the brooding mood

down down down

underwater

I’ll wrap a saree of scales green and swim to you

let the wind blow

let the storms wail

I’ll journey still

godspeed

I”ll grow a cloak of mane chestnut-brown and gallop to you with wind in my hair 

Reflection

June '12

dry pastels, ink

oil

texture, oil, ink

ink, glass colours