Goddess

This is an odd sort of poem. I'm not quite sure what to make of it.  I'm also finding it very hard to process the fact that I wrote this twenty years ago! I feel very mortal! Old. And somewhat disoriented. Is the past really so far away?

I remember that I wrote it after attending a Bharatnatyam recital in Bahrain. The dancer's name was Kalyani, and she was brilliant. She was not a young woman, I recall, and when she danced she gave off this incredibly sexual, sensual aura. (Perhaps I am her age now, but I think the resemblance ends there!)

It's not a personal poem:  the words didn't reflect my feelings for this dancer. I suppose her performance inspired me to dream up this little story and put it in words. I find the jagged flow and breaks in the wrong places interesting, because they seem to bring out the crazed angst this man feels.

#

Goddess

I didn't want her to dance.
Her sari was green and gold,
the curve of her body
clear to me beneath its
heavy folds.

Don't dance, I said. Dance
Only for me.
Isn't that enough?
No, she said,
and picked up her make-up
again.

I hate red lipstick.
I despise black eye-liner.
I would rip the flowers
from her hair
if she would let me.

The lights dimmed and
the curtain quivered.
I stood at the end of the
hall watching
the scent of anticipation
rising from the backs
of their oily heads.

They applauded,
they joined their palms
in namastes or bowed
into adaabs.
They did not dare touch
her, I knew
the power of the deftness
and the softness of her fingers
the invitation in her eyes
her lips, her every move.

I would crush her
(for this is love)
burn her in my flames
cut her to pieces if she'd let me.

Afterwards, she cast
aside the bells from her
ankles
and gave the rest to me.
The paint that stained
her palms and soles
remained to taunt me.
I washed the dust off her
feet, and kissed them.

#

I wonder who this man is supposed to be, this obsessed, tortured chap. And I wonder how this poem related to me, as it must have in some way, but I can't find the connection. Can you?

(written way back in 1992, first posted here in 2008, edited and re-posted today)

Blown away.

As I typed this title, I was already worrying that in today's crazy
world, people might think this post is about a bomb. Actually,
in more ways than one, it's quite the opposite. Bombs destroy.
This creates and connects.

I went to an exhibit at my favourite art gallery and was absolutely
blown away by it. It was the most creative, clever, endearing and
picturesque exhibit I've seen in a long time. It was beautiful and
simple and it wasn't only art, it was literally "art, earth, ink and soul"!
How could I not love it?

The artist is Chang Yoong Chia of Malaysia. Sadly, I didn't get
a chance to meet him, but am so grateful that I got a chance
to see his work, and just in time too. I managed to catch his
exhibit, The Botany of Desire, just an hour before it closed!

I walked in to the gallery and this is what I first saw. That's
my friend Suresh, leaning against the wall. We went to art
college together. For a year, anyway. Then I dropped out
(refer my darkest poems) while he went on to finish, and later
even became the principal. He was a very principled principal.
The gallery is his, and part of his NGO that supports and
encourages young and upcoming artists - local, national
and international; rural, tribal and urban. He has residencies
and so we get to see the most wonderful variety of art, and meet
the most wonderful variety of creative people.

The photographs I've taken don't really do Chang's work justice
(took them with the camera on my phone!). I couldn't resist
taking a picture of each and every leaf, and I wanted you to
see them all.

Chang blended Malaysian shadow-work with his experience of
Bangalore - those are actual leaves both on the screen and the floor,
from Lalbagh Botanical Gardens - and created a whimsical fairy tale
of sorts, from what he learned from his early morning walks there.

These are close-ups of two of the leaves. What you see is the silhouette
of the cut-out leaf, backlit. I thought they were quite lovely enough
as they were, but then Suresh walked me behind the screen. That's
when I got blown away - here is Chang's story, in pictures, in words,
on leaves. Enjoy!

by Chang Yoong Chia

 by Chang Yoong Chia

by Chang Yoong Chia

by Chang Yoong Chia

by Chang Yoong Chia

by Chang Yoong Chia

by Chang Yoong Chia

by Chang Yoong Chia

by Chang Yoong Chia

by Chang Yoong Chia

by Chang Yoong Chia

by Chang Yoong Chia

by Chang Yoong Chia

by Chang Yoong Chia

by Chang Yoong Chia

by Chang Yoong Chia

 Aren't they lovely? Everything about them enchants me. The skill
of the cut-work on the leaves, the style of the illustrations, the story.
I love the way Chang brings in little nuances of Bangalore
life  - early mornings in Lalbagh (the gates open at 5 a.m.
for walkers, joggers, and yoga enthusiasts) - parents going
for broke over the obscenely lavish Indian wedding - the history
of the tree - the call centre - the squirrel and the Brahmani kite.

My favourite leaves are the squirrel, the queen and the call centre.
Which are yours?

My favourite part of the story, though, is the last leaf. I can't wait
for Chang to come back and tell us more.

The Timid Painter.

What I like best about decluttering is finding things I'd forgotten.
Which tends to be most things I find. These are my first attempts
at watercolour, from back in the 90s or maybe it was the late 80s
(I've forgotten that too). I decided to go to a class held by
a Bahraini artist. This was my first tentative attempt:

I have uploaded it as "Small" because it's hardly worth looking at,
and yes, it really was that faint and timidly painted!

From my second attempt, I realised that this is supposed to some part
of Bahrain's coastline, with seagulls flying overhead:

There they are again, those seagulls .. I think I was learning how
to do something called a wash, and getting the sky and the sea right.
I don't think I succeeded, although they are at least identifiable in this one.

My third painting rather surprised me (today, I mean. I'm not sure
if it surprised me back when I did it). I think it's painted off
a photograph I took years ago on a visit to Mysore. Somewhere
near Tipu Sultan's summer palace, if my memory serves me
correctly? Which it frequently does not. Anyhow, I like this one
so naturally I uploaded it as "Large".

Hang on. I see palm trees. Maybe this one is somewhere in Bahrain, too.

Yes. Nothing profound today. Just decluttered pictures. And
unsuccessfully-decluttered memories.