India – Never a simple answer


Its been five months since I came here – to Wolfsburg, home to VW.

So most of the people I have met seem to know India by 3 things – Bollywood drama, butter chicken and spices.
‘ How do you find Germany ? Do you miss India ?’ are the most common questions one is asked. And while I tell them excitedly about India, its colors, its smells, the beautiful people, the rich culture , the food that I miss so much, getting home-sick by the end of my answer, there is something that I cannot tell them. Something most friends here will not be able to relate to , are not aware of , or rather, were not aware of till the Delhi rape case.
What I am referring to, is the constant fear which I have had to experience , not just in Delhi, but everywhere in India.

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My moonsong

As the artist makes love
to her strings
every fortnight,

As notes of new songs
breathe in life
every fortnight,

As the music holds together
sun and moon
every fortnight,

As the darkness and light
hold their smiles
every fortnight,

As I am bathed in red
and then white
every fortnight,

The moonsong lights my way ,
A joyful rhythm,
Every fortnight.


acrylic on canvas , 4 days

Inspired by my brief experience of motherhood, the spiritual aspect of menstruation (, the purush-prakruti concept of Hindu mythology ( Book by Dr. Devdutta Pattanaik), my inner truth ( the voice that got heard once again ) , the book – Gems from Bhagavan , and Rp ( inspired this dream of harmony)

Forced Reflection


Lying restless, inertial her thoughts,
oscillating from was , to what could be
Tormenting awareness of a wasted now,
She twists and turns, incessantly.

She finds relief in night no more,
a knight armed with countless dreams
Her faith lost before the joust,
The Spear – a fear of defeat;

Never realising all this while
It was her spear that killed her dreams.

Time , the healer, what shall he heal ?
He fights denial, instead reveals
And gently probing her loveless wounds,
He works his magic and pain shoots.

Sudden panic, oh how she suffers !
Denial , her constant refuge to pain
But Time comes to aid, over and over,
Till she surrenders all to her strength;

Her strength to not seek random shadows
But a familiar and wiser reflection.


acrylic on canvas , 1 week