Happy New Year

A very happy new year to what I am hoping are thousands of my readers of what I call a 'blog' (a contraction of web and log), which is a sort of an online journal of my best thoughts. Since I have no flowers, I offer a coconut and a sweet potato, comprising, in alphabetical order, carbohydrates, proteins and vitamins. Good health, Peace and Fitful Slumber to all sentient beings, with good coordination of the stroke and the kick, the whole breathing thing, and the rotation of the shoulders and hips, which is so easy to overlook. To those practising the flip, Wisdom to see the utter pointlessness of this manoeuvre.

Bellini

This is a drawing of the most beautiful Jesus I have ever seen. It is painted by Giovanni Bellini, who is striker for AC Milan. Just kidding. Bellini never played for AC Milan.

I have never ever seen a more beautiful left hand. This is the first time I have used the expression 'never ever'. I am opposed to it by principle, but I felt that the situation called for strong language.

going to Swargate

This is a grandmother and her granddaughter waiting for a bus that would take them to Swargate.

Inky evening

This is the city on a dull inky evening. The sky was full of inky clouds. These are the best kind. I draw only the best kind of things. For me, it's the best, or nothing at all. I wear the best kind of socks, for example. I am that kind of a guy.

Naked people

Everybody draws naked people. Why shouldn't I? I know my rights.

Hoss

This is a multi-faceted horse I happen to know. He is a mighty fine animal, if only he would keep still for half a second.

Bharatnatyam ladies

This is a terrific Tamil woman, who is singing lovely songs.







This is a marvellous Marathi girl. She is dancing the Bharatnatyam dance.

panthi hoon main is path ka

kaii baar yun bhi dekha hai

wo subah kabhi to aayegi

potted plant versus city

What can one plant do? Is it only an empty gesture of defiance? What is wrong with empty gestures of defiance? Can an empty gesture of defiance transcend its emptiness and actually become heroic? At what point does the heroic become the merely stupid?

These are tough questions to ask oneself at 11 in the night. If I were a plant in a pot, these are broadly the thoughts that would preoccupy me. I am only guessing, naturally. One can only make intelligent guesses regarding the secret thoughts of potted plants.

spaces in the city

among congealed pools of someone's rage

scattered footwear gets left behind

no one has use for dead mens' shoes

नसीब हेयेर कटिंग

नसीब हेयर कटिंग सलून is where I get my hair-cut. The propreiter is Mr Hasan Sheikh. If you go to Naseeb Hair Cutting Saloon, your hair will be cut either by Prabhu Deva or a fellow with a long beard. There is another family living on the top of Naseeb. Next door to them is another family and below them is another. The women folk wear nighties with floral patterns.

Benaras

This is the city of Benaras. That is the holy river Ganges running through it. You can see a couple of temples on the banks. You can see a bridge across the river Ganges. You can usually see a number of people on motorbikes taking off in all directions, but I got bored of drawing motorbikes. You can see a few corpses floating by in the river if you have sharp eyes. You have to be careful when you cross the bridge, because if you slip and fall, the crocodiles will get you for sure. Also watch your back, because sometimes people shove you into the water for a little sport. The Benarasis are a ruthless people.

Palm of hand sketches

In the evenings, I sit in a corner in Narayanpeth and watch the world go by. This is an old house opposite to my seat.

I regret that I haven't had very many great thoughts recently, although yesterday, as I struggled to the other side of the pool, hung on gasping for breath, I had an epiphany. I forget what it was about, but I distinctly remember having an epiphany. I know it was an epiphany because I've had them before. I am no stranger to epiphanies, but what is the point to having epiphanies if you cannot remember them the next day?









This is my new friend with whom I share the corner in Narayanpeth. I like his company because he treats me like an old friend. Yesterday, he was lying down in a state of agitated thought and just as I had begun to draw him, he jumped up, and said to me, "What's to be done about tomorrow?" I don't know what's to be done about tomorrow, but I thought it was a most excellent question.

कोई सागर दिल को बेहलात नहीं

फिर तेरी कहानी याद आयी

palm of hand sketches

waiting for the bus














Narayanpeth

Narayanpeth is the happening part of the town. If you were to find yourself at a loose end, you would be well-advised to find your way to this square, get yourself a seat, and enjoy the proceedings. There are a lot of people rushing about, going God knows where. Except for the guy who sleeps on the mat next to where I sit, who has nowhere to go. He keeps asking me for the time. Sometimes he asks me something I cannot understand. "Seventy? Or is it Eighty? It's eighty, isn't it?" he says. I refuse to commit myself, not knowing what I am buying or selling. I think the poor fellow's not quite right in the head, but then who is? I shouldn't be surprised if he feels a bit sorry for me, wondering if I am a bit not quite right in the head. I wonder though if he wonders if I wonder if he wonders that I am not quite right in the head. I would be really surprised if that were the case.




This is the reigning deity that presides over Narayanpeth. There is not a leaf in all Narayanpeth that can shake without this God's express will, but for some reason unexplained, He appears to have dropped the Dronagiri mountain, hopefully not on somebody's foot.

Obama Obama Obama

Sofa so good

Palm of hand sketches

construction site













Balcony

girl picking flower

Neighbouring wench

This is my neighbour, Katerina Ivanovna. Katerina is a beautiful, but proud and domineering woman, usually calling on me early morning to ask haughtily if she could borrow the Indian Express for the crossword puzzle. Katerina tells me she loves Dmitry who lives on the third floor, but Ivan who lives on the fourth says she really loves him, but enjoys tormenting him. If true, this is a dreadfully twisted kind of love. I am not sure Katerina knows which of the two she loves best, and the word on the street is that Dmitry has a terrible passion for another woman, a woman not entirely respectable. I have a bad feeling about this. Somebody's going to get killed.

nail-biting phenomenon

This is a nail-biting little munchkin who lives next door. She is biting her nails because she is watching the suspenseful edge-of-the-seat goings-on on cartoon network.

Timmendorfer

This is the bay near Timmendorfer. There were a couple of sailing boats in the bay, but when I have blue on my brush, I am like a man possessed. Blue brings out the animal in me. Tough men with hard flinty eyes step quietly out of my way.

I am a much nicer man with yellow. Children can frolic all over me with yellow. Birds fly down to sit on my shoulder and pick at the lice in my hair. Nobody has anything to fear from a man with yellow.

Colours have terrible powers.

Homage to Greene

This is a copy of a Nolde painting I am offering as homage to Graham Greene. I didn't know what to get for Greene - he has everything.

रात भी है कुछ भीगी भीगी

local goonda element

This is a local goonda element, or a rowdy, perhaps a pick-pocket, or eve-teaser, perhaps both, picking pockets for a living and teasing eves in his spare-time. I don't really know him.
ये हमारे यहाँ का कोई मामूली सा चोर-उचक्का या गुंडा है। मैं इसको बिल्कुल जानता नहीं। हमारे यहाँ ऐसे बहुत से लोग हैं जो कई गैरकानूनी काम करते हैं।

Imp-Ex-pressionist

This is either an impressionist or an expressionist whatdycallit using whatdyacallits. Bit of a disaster, I think, but the temple is probably the ugliest temple in the whole country, and frankly, I am not expecting any hurt feelings or burning of my effigies.

Multi-tasking

This is an alien spaceship I saw yesterday behind the municipal school-ground. No, I'm just kidding. It is a piece of ginger. A piece of ginger is a thing of beauty. I can spend all day drawing pieces of ginger. This is not an idle boast. I am a guy who talks the talk and walks the walk, in addition to walk the talk, and talk the walk, although I get a bit mixed up sometimes with all the walking and talking.

In the corporate world, this is called multi-tasking. It is the ability to multi-task that seperates the men from the boys, other than of course, the onset of puberty.

Palm of hand sketches

This is my bookshelf. It is full of books I have never read. There are also some file-folders, but I am afraid of seeing what's in them. On the other hand, the clock is stuck at quarter to 7, which is a cheerful sort of time. There is a bottle of Fevicol handy, just in case something needs sticking urgently.

It looks like a bookshelf of someone who knows what he's doing. Possibly one who works hard, and parties harder. A hint perhaps of one who lives life to the fullest.











This is some sort of a palm tree, just standing there doing nothing.













This is an architectural feature that can be seen from my living room window. Okay, it is not an ocean-view apartment, but sometimes through that window there, you can get to see somebody in the next flat bathing.

Rotluff copied

The German expressionists were such studs. Colour glorious colour!

ये जर्मन एक्ष्प्रेस्सिओनिस्त्स क्या सॉलिड ग्रेट थे! रंग खुबसूरत रंग!

हे जर्मन एक्ष्प्रेस्सिओनिस्त्स फारच ग्रेट होते! रंग सुंदर रंग!

चलत मुसाफिर ले लिया रे पिंजडे वाली मुनिया

Team Building Exercise

At the doctor's, there is nothing to do but examine people's feet and footwear. You can learn a lot about people from their feet. Not sure what though. If only the feet could talk, you could interrogate them.















This is a man who was sitting opposite to me. He was reading last year's India Today that I read before him. Everybody waiting had read the same India Today, which created a bond between all of us. When this man put the India Today down, I shouted "Group Hug!" and we all had a group hug as a team building exercise, including this man here, who looks like he could use another hug.

The doctor seemed like a nice enough fellow. He greeted me cheerfully and asked me what the matter was with me and I looked him in the eye and said I was having a having some sort of an existential crisis and I had no idea what the hell I was doing and what was the point of it all. Instead of asking me about my problems, he started talking about his own. He said he had no idea what he was doing either and he was supposed to be a surgeon and everything and this morning he had opened somebody's belly and couldn't remember why and what the hell he was supposed to do with the opened up belly, and what was the whole point of it anyway.

This cheered me up at once. I felt like a new man. He is a very good doctor for existential crises, but perhaps if I am in need of some surgery, I will go to another fellow.

topology of the physiognomy

This is a man I have known for a long time. But only when I looked carefully at his face for a long time did I realize the most peculiar nature of the topology of his physiognomy.

The ears are the most peculiar, closely followed by the nose and the lips, and the whole architecture seems a little improbable. In addition, there are all sorts of peculiar planes and sub-planes and little bulges in unexpected places, and concavities and convexities.

These are some of my thoughts on topology of the physiognomy.

उठे सब के कदम

फिर कहीं कोई फूल खिल

मौसम बीता जाए

सारंगा

losing their heads

These are some Kwain women who have lost their heads.

Headless Kwain women appear to do quite well for themselves. They turn out nattily dressed and strike stylish poses, but can a sharp sense of fashion truely compensate for a missing head? How necessary are heads?

These are some of the thoughts I have about headless women.

सोलवा साल

चलरी सजनी अब क्या सोचे

modern weather systems

These are some of the popular sights in Kwai. The sun shines in Kwai. Clouds are frequent visitors and sometimes it rains. It has a completely modern weather system, with temperatures in Celcius and Farenheit, humidity in percentages, expected rainfalls in mm and everything. Kwai's weather system is comparable to any other town in the world. The natives even warn with a hint of pride that inches of snowfall are not unknown in winter.

When it rains, it is the custom in Kwai to wear a raincoat or carry an umbrella. Visitors to Kwai are often charmed by this Kwaint Kwain custom.

French citizens

These are French citizens who will storm the Bastille after their siesta.

some French I know

Last week, I snubbed the British, with a little help from the Americans.

Admiring Whistler's Mother at the museum, an Englishwoman standing next to me said breathlessly to her husband, "English, wasn't he? I remember reading about him!"

"American!" I said, calmly, because at moments like these, it is easy to make the mistake of overemphasis. "You can read it here, born in Lowell, Massachusetts" I said pointing.

The woman looked unsurely at me first, then her husband.

"I used to live in Lowell" I added modestly, administering the coup de grace. That's French for the final blow.

'Oui' is another French word I know. It means 'Yes'. Other French words I have learnt from a French film dubbed into English are 'Voila', 'O0lala' and 'Yes Yes Yes More More More'.

Kwai building

This is the local pub where the locals gather for fun and games. Men and women come decked in their gayest clothes. They drink with great enjoyment and then they seperate into teams of men and women and dance the traditional Kwaian folk dance, which is a very elegant dance that involves clapping bamboo sticks together and jumping over them.

Behind is the tall structure of the pub. After the dance, people climb to the top of the spire and jump into the river Kwai, taking care that they don't fall on the Bridge on the river Kwai.

Glass half full

This is the old town Kwai on the banks of the river Kwai on which the Bridge on the river Kwai stands. The town is completely red from head to toe, but at least nobody tries to blow up the town. In the corporate world, this is called 'I'm the glass half full kind of guy' thing to say.