Land of the Five Rivers

This painting is based on the photograph published in the Hindu dated January 25, 2019 
Tiruvaiyaru is the place of Samadhi of the great music saint Sri Tyagaraja. 
This is the place where the Tyagaraja Aarathi is held every year in his honor. 
This photograph inspired me to paint this beautiful place which captured my imagination.



Eyes open to darkness emitted,
Through crevasses formed between curtains.
The mighty star,
Playing second fiddle,
To unforgiving clouds.

A night worth of rest,
Not enough,
For a body consumed by weakness,
Wakes to a bleak dark morning.

Throat dry but all else wet
And suddenly a dose of regret.
The body must persevere through a day,
Where one perspires,
Even as the temperature drops.

Perhaps meaning found in labor,
Will infuse spirit,
In place of vigor.

But Alas! No such luck,
Labour just a meal ticket.
Not a provider of zeal.

But yet in sickness or worse,
Thou, gets up to bleak mornings,
Knowing it might be a bad day,
But, it’s not a bad life.

Picture by Valentin Muller (Unsplash)



Trail of love
Skin deep
Of the heart
Banging soul.
Nearly a kiss –
Making love in reverse,
Head fuck.
Lust festering
In a wound so open
It eats itself clean,
And then love begins again,
Filling spaces.
You twirl
All brown and green
And sparks.
Lush as outside
By your side.
I watch your eyes turn
From wet to dry,
Praying for rain.
Moistness sets alight
The orange walls
And your eye-liner.
Love lingers and floats
With the Nag Champa incense stick.
It’s best that way.

Picture by Sharon Mccutcheon (Unsplash)

Shall we?

So the count of democracy has its mandate made clear

Let’s take in reality shall we?
Five years since the last time it did the same in a different veneer
The road ahead has to be walked, shall we?

Enough has been spoken on what was,
but mighty little on what could be… Get started already shall we?
Gather wisdom, follow rules, respect the laws of the land, shall we?

The emperor in his castle has his own agendas
Let’s focus on our simple everyday shall we?
Get up, dress up, show up, in all due diligence, do what we’re supposed to shall we?

Let’s save dear resources, shut taps, cut corners, turn out lights and fans shall we?
Let’s wait our turn , show the elderly concern, queue up, pay taxes, keep order shall we?
Let’s share what is in excess, bring to book the evil nexus, plant a tree, feed the needy shall we?
Let’s pray in our silences, not intrude ‘other’ fences, consume less not be greedy, shall we?

Let’s not throw that crumpled wrapper add to the burden of the aging sweeper, let’s segregate that garbage, shall we?
Let’s trust a local weaver, buy closer home from a farmer, patronize community culture, shall we?

Let’s speak a local language, yet work for global vantage, keep public props free from damage, shall we?
Let’s raise fearless sons and daughters who see beyond roles of genders, educate them to emulate greatness shall we?
Let’s stop everyday shaming of the weak and those not of privilege…
Let’s love beyond labels and signage shall we?

The one who rules can only do as much as in his prowess, We though… can shape a nation through simple, well-meaning action, about time we started in earnest… Shall we?

Picture by Edwin Andrade (Unsplash)


Wild love ephemeral.
Jarred hyacinth,
People at the window,
Dethroned raindrop,
Nettle’s formations
Sting of late spring.
Lawn littered,
Recycling bags overturned,
Decay at play
Bodies in the kitchen,
Watching stark
A pianists reminisce.
Sale for cash,
Tailored jackets
Pace shrub-land.
Oily river
Water ripples in spirals.
Grooves of mud sweat.
Peeling paint of the metal
Park bench.
Absent these days,

असफलता की नींव पर

असफलताओं के दौर में,

सफलता एक ख़ास मिली,
शायद कुछ और मेरे लिए है चुना,
कुदरत से ये आस मिली।

मुड कर जब मैं देखूंगा,
पहुंच कर उस ओर,
ये दौर याद कर हँस लूंगा,
क्योंकि हूंगा मैं किसी ओर छोर।

मेरी कामयाबी इसी असफलता की नींव पर खड़ी है,
असफलता ही तो यारों उन्नती की कड़ी है,
मैं गर न हार जाता तब ,
तो ये दिन कहां से आता,
तरक्की का यह हार शायद कोई ना पहनाता।

तो फिर गर गिर जाऊं ,
तो उठाना ना मुझे,
ना गले लगाना ,ना फुसलाना कभी,
मैं गिर के उठने वालों में से हूँ,
बहुत हिम्मत बाकी है मुझमें अभी।

मैं असफलता पर इमारत बनाना जानता हूँ,
गिर कर उठना और लड़खड़ा कर समहलना जानता हूँ।,
पल पल को जोड़ कर ,
खूबसूरत जिंदगी बनाना जानता हूँ।

Picture by David Kovalenko


And someday, when all this fussing is over you’ll see,
That jasmines and jaguars are made of the same elements of matter and that the blood that flows in the veins of the hunter is ruled by the same laws of flowing and bleeding as the hunted and both will one day become the medium for more life – Just like you and I.

Someday when this jostling for space and power will cease to please your senses meant for something higher and you’ll know that we’re all headed to the same threshold of the same sky dwellers to rest – you and I.

Someday when the rainbow dissolves all its colours and decides to go back to the core of the spectrum, you’ll see it is the same white emptiness that holds all fulfillment within and it would receive these illusions of otherness and we’ll laugh at our ideas of duality – you and I.

Someday when hierarchies stop amusing the one who suspends the ladder, from that unknown beam and the wood comes crumbling down to form a heap, a pyre, that engulfs in its fire all hatred forever we’ll see that it is love that is the very beam and the ground from which springs the tree of life – you and I.

Someday when borders drawn by lie makers are swallowed by the great leveler’s mighty tears, and a few tears escape the deluge and repaint, a borderless map you’ll see… we’re children of those happy tears that wipe borders – you and I.

But, until then, oblivious that this Someday is the only truth there is, we will continue to believe in the myth of the binaries and remain untouched by the hope of the someday – you and I.

Picture by Paula Porto (Unsplash)

On Stage

I have dedicated this particular one to my soul sister, Joyceline. I believe in her and I know that someday, she will be flaunting her beautiful voice on a stage.


She is what others seek, the desire they hold close to their chests. With her lips moist and a poisonous purple shade, she passes men by to fill them with longing, awe, and regret and leave behind a tantalizing scent.


Many faces entrapped in many stories. No context, just their form for you to see. 

[Best_Wordpress_Gallery id=”31″ gal_title=”Faces”]