The smell and feel of colors seeps and soaks me in my own drawings.
What a pleasure it is to be able to draw and express.
A Gods gift indeed.
Drawing a human figure inspires and gratifies me like nothing else.
I do compose poetry in Hindi on and off. But like drawing poetry does not flow very often.
I have traveled to varied destinations and thus got exposed to art, craft and literature of different countries and lands.
It helped me to collect lots of experiences and
in sight into different cultures and living styles.
Stories of lives being played out can be told in long essays or, as I choose, in sketches and drawings.
I have sought to express on paper with certain shades of dark and light charcoal and ink, a few strokes – figurative, architectural – to offer a glimpse into the lives of people I saw. Whether it was during long walks in Vrindavan or Gwalior or in the fast-paced Mumbai, I became aware of the many stories that people's lives tell.
I realized the strength and survival instinct not only of people but also of places I came across. Even a peeling wall or a broken door could tell details of survival which I would never have heared or I would have knowingly missed.
Extraordinary people – these survivors - were speaking to me through their clothes and the contours of their bodies; an old and ragged bag or a worn-out slipper told me a lot about what life had done to their owners and how these people had coped with the events, with dignity, in their lives.
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