That strange feeling

you know it when it is coming
that strange feeling

in the throat
in the back
in the heart
in the stomach
in the womb

covering every inch
of my clarity
sobriety and
strength

Breathing
growing
invading
every tissue and every molecule
spreading like a virus
dripping like blood
rising like sun

slowly but steadily
it is coming
that strange feeling

you know it darling,
it is the same feeling
taking your mind
taking your heart
taking your reason
taking your emotions


you wait
to breath
in and out
again
breath in and out
one last time
as


droplets of sweat
trickle on the spine
and the flooding of lights
blind you for a while
one moment
you begin to see in the pitch dark

it is the same strange feeling

Having to believe!

We all believe in something. Most of the times our beliefs are reasonable. We believe in things, ideas, objects etc, etc. For instance , you believe that this life is finite because you see people around die. So it is reasonable to believe that life is finite. You believe the trees are immobile because you see them standing in one place all your life. You believe water is fluid and not solid( when not turned in to ice) because you see it flowing . So believes are mostly formed by some experience , generally verified by some proof or other. And most of the times we as humans generate consensuses of these beliefs and we call them truths.

But not all beliefs can be verified or generate consensus. They remain on the liminal spaces of personal experience. And when you cannot reason these experiences you call them 'magical' or 'mythical'. Does that make this experience untrue? Do you discard these beliefs because you cannot explain some one what your experience is real?
I call it "having to believe". Having to believe is a choice you make to believe in something, in spite your reason tells you otherwise. You just 'choose' to believe because you want to it be true.

Let me tell you a story to explain this. A story my mother told me when I was young. I have no idea why she told me this tale. May be this was very important to her and wanted to share it with her daughter. I never forgot it.

"One day me and my friend went to the river side to play.River was located outside the town and girls were generally not allowed to go there. But we were tempted to gather some smooth polished stones that were found in the shallow river bed. So we sneaked out without telling our elders where we were going. We got so carried in gathering stones,that we forgot the time. And it suddenly gotten dark when we realized we were all by ourselves. The river was located outskirts of village and there was no much habitation on the way. As we realized we were marooned in that place, we were very petrified. Even to trace our steps back was impossible because it was not a paved road.

I just dropped all the stones I had collected carefully in my skirt, and stood frozen with fear. Speechless with thoughts crowding my mind that knew spooky tales of ghosts and spirits.By now my friend had begun to cry .

Just then we heard a voice in the pitch darkness... a thick raspy voice."What the hell you two are doing here at this hour" voice asked in angry tone. "We were playing and did not realize the time" - I said in barely audible tone."This is not the place to play games " the voice retorted back in booming voice again.

I tried to orient myself to the direction the voice was coming, but I could see nothing. Nothing at all. I could hear sounds of his sandals, rough leather sandals worn by Shepard in the town. He must have carried a staff because he banged it hard on the ground as he spoke angrily. Staff had some bells that jingled sweetly as he moved the staff.

For a moment we all stood in silence.

Then the voice emerged again."I will drop you home . Just keep following the sound of these bells. And if you want to remain alive, do not turn back and look.I mean what I say.Just walk" the Voice boomed in a ruthless command. We had no choice but to follow his command.

We hugged each other tight and walked. Walked in that pitch darkness. I can't tell you what road that we walked. I Don't know how long we must have walked. We kept walking at the sound of the bells and creaking leather shoes. My friends house came first. So he stopped and asked her to go home. I could see some people moving in far distance . He again warned her not to turn back and look.

As I watched her run in distance towards her home, I was alone besides that man. Fear was paramount, as I walked. All could hear was my heavy breath. I could not see or hear a thing around me. Even the sound of his staff bells had ceased. I kept walking, till I saw my house in distance. I did not wait for the man to tell me to go home and ran towards the lights that were dimly lit. My body refused to turn around. Even when in my mind I wanted to see who he was . I just ran for my life.

"Where had you been?" my mother admonished me as she saw me running in house. I said nothing. In fact I spoke nothing to any one for few days. But I was very curious to solve this mystery. Me and my friend kept this as secret mission and tried to investigate on our own. We knew some man had helped us , and we wanted to know who he was. We checked out among the farmers in the village who lived on the outside the village if they had known anyone who had helped the village girls in the night. But no one knew it.

After some days we just gave up our quest.

After sometime I revealed this story to my grandmother and my mother. When they heard story they brushed it as casual event by saying "oh! you just met the village god. he is know for helping people who loose their way!". I abandoned my quest to find a reasonable answer to this event.

My mother stopped her tale abruptly. She never explained this tale to me.

She just narrated it and left it for me to accept or reject it. To make my own judgments. But I Know that from that day onwards she chose to believe that someone will be always be there for her when she looses your way in her life.

I believe this is her tale of "having to believe".
This is her personal myth she lived by.

Today I just shared it with you.

Look out India! Anish Kapoor is here!!!

There is so much of art happening around these days that one hardly responds to the art that you see, hear or read unless you know the artist, or the artist happens be known. Anish Kapoor belongs to the latter category. He is known all over the world as most important and famous living artist of our time . Ironically he is not so known figure in India at least to its masses.

In a recent article dated, 27th nov., Rebecca Tyrrel, wrote an article in The Gardian on Artist Anish Kappoor's first ever exhibition in India, the place of his origin. Article titled "Anish Kapoor: Look out India Here I come ", raises many issues including the one why he wants to show his works in India.

This is my response.

Anish Kapoor is here!

So why did Anish Kapoor come to India? What is the significance of Anish Kapoor to Indian art world and its people on the street?

According to the sponsors and organizer it took 10 years of planning, blood- sweat, pain disappointments and millions of pounds to get Anish Kapoor's works in India. So you can image how important it was for the organizers to showcase Kapoor in India at this point of time . And it is again Kapoor's own personal interest in getting the works to India has finally succeeded in bringing such an exhibition. Kapoor proclaimed, “ I don't think people in India has seen anything like this before”.

For those who do not know, Anish Kapoor , was born in India to a Sikh father and a Jew mother. After spending his early years in Mumbai he left India and the Indian citizenship to identify himself with more sophisticated British people and their art..

What happened after is history . He won the the golden Lion at Venice Biennial. And later the coveted Turner prize( meant for British artist) . Such an achievements made every one sit up and take notice of the artist who had quintessentially an Indian name . Indian media, who is quick to claim ownership on any semblance of Indian-ness of an expat ( irrespective of the person who may or may not intend to associate with India or Indian-ness. For instance Kalpana Chawla, Freddy Mercury or Nobel winner Chandrashekhar.) was eager to claim the artist's success to his Indian origin just to strengthen the brand India on global map. . But ask Kapoor about India and his past, he conveniently brushes the issue aside by saying he does not believe in ” national allegiances” and his art is “beyond boundaries”, only to emphasize that he is a British Artist.

So why is Kapoor so keen on showing his works to the poor man of India who lives on the streets in 'shit homes' and barley makes ends meet ? Or is he keen to show his art to Indian art world which he believes is “not sophisticated” enough by international standards. Or is it the government of India who was keen to bring him here more than Kapoor wanting to come? ( as one of the official bragged that how hard he had been toiling for this show for past ten years) .

Certainly more questions than answers .

Anish Kapoor is a man of few words. He does not believe in “artist as celebrity”. Instead prefers his works to speak for themselves. Again he says “ As an artist I have nothing to say”. He insists on calling his studio as laboratory. And he is always smiling, as Tyrrel observes.

Kapoor might be ignorant of art world in India or the poverty that exists in India. But he is certainly not ignorant of who He is. He is not introvert, and certainly not shy person as you assume to be. He is very aware of his stature and power that he commands on the global art scene. He is aware of the price that his works fetch and he is aware that only the rich and famous can afford his works irrespective of whether they mean anything for them. Above all, he certainly knows how his funds for the next mega project will come from.

He does not shy away from fame, money and glamor. ( why should he?)He certainly does not shy away from the photo ops with netas ( politicians) and natis ( actresses) or turn away from small time a page 3 wannabe celebrity, who wants to capture the moment .( Again why should he?)And he knows one thing, he is here for the people of India to come and see his work and recognize his brilliance.

Look Out India:

Anish Kapoor has arrived. Indeed there has never been a show of this magnitude of a living contemporary artist held in independent India. Split between two 'spaces' and cities Delhi and Mumbai, Kapoor tries to make a statement by spreading his oeuvre to bureaucrats ,politicians, artist, celebrities, industrialists, journalists and the public at large to decide if he is Indian artist or not.

Bureaucrats and politicians are humbled by Kapoor's presence, and the glory he has achieved on international scene. Industrialists are simply humbled by the price he fetches in auctions. Artists are humbled by Kapoor's scale, perfection and precision with which works are executed. Journalists are humbled by Kapoor's inaccessibility maintained by him in spite of limelight. But men who are untouched by Anish Kapoor's fame, glory, success, and presence is people of India.

This is the irony that Kapoor is here to solve. Kapoor's succes as an contemporary artist is not just through his collectible sculpture owned by who is who of rich world. But the public sculptures that have created huge impact on the masses in America and England where some of his major works have been installed.

Kapoor is the only artist people know off after Henry Moore in England. This is what Kapoor loves and wants to live for.He knows his works will live longer than the celebrity fame that he gets in his lifetime. Recognition from the people. That's what he want to achieve by connecting to man on the street who lives on 7 Rupees a week earnings, and builds 'shit homes' in India.

This is not about Indian- ness or British- ness. This is a simple business proposition. Can he get a commission for a mega public sculpture?. He knows that with Indian economy booming, India CAN. All he needs is a simple invitation and a pay cheque. Is anyone listening?

Look out India! Anish Kapoor is here!!


Anish Kapoor says, art has no boundaries.

Indeed art can be without boundaries but there is no art without politics.

All that glitters is greed

Living this lie

"I have longed to move away
from the hissing of the spent lie
And the old terror's continual cry.
Growing more terrible as the day
Goes over the hill into the deep sea...
I have longed to move away but am afraid;
Some life, yet unspent, might explode
Out of the old lie burning on the ground,
And, crackling into the air, leave me half blind..."

Incept -ing New York

"This is the bridge. Do you remember this bridge?" Nick was showing me an old bridge in Brooklyn. Nick had come to pick me at the JFK airport along with Baiju, and was pointing to the bridge as our taxi slowly rolled under. I had just disembarked at New York's JFK airport after 18 hours of long flight. I had slept most of the time on flight even skipping the meals served on board. So when I approached the immigration officer who was going through my documents, scanning my finger prints , greeting me in typical American accent "how you doing?' I had sheepish answered "very tired sir."

I always land in New York, experiencing this dream like condition, not knowing if you are still dreaming in flight or you have actually landed in NYC. Only way I can explain this condition is to my jet lagged state of mind and body which is trying to adjust to a new time cycle.

Nick was obviously pointing to the bridge where a dream sequence form the movie Inception was shot. Yes, it is the same bridge where Cobb is explaining Adrian about complexities of dream world. Baiju knew my predicament so he pointed to the huge painting creating the illusion of crumbling buildings; a scene painted from the movie Inception. "That's the hand painted billboard. Isn't it fascinating" He was saying as we slowly navigated through streets of New York. You begin to experience uncanny experiences amidst massive structures looming over you. And you know, city is spinning a dream for you.

It was 10am. Sun was burning hard as Newyorkers were trying to beat the heat with skimpiest shorts and over sized shades. Honestly, I was not in my best state of mind when I arrived to appreciate bright and hot New York. I had been struggling to pep myself up on various fronts before I boarded flight and was not sure what I want to do here. New york grows on you moment you hit the streets, subs and museums, as if waking from a good dream. But I was not sure this time, if New york can spin a good dream for me.

Every city is a dream and every dream makes a city. Like a dream you can live in a city through its complex layers. Every layer will show you how the city exists in deep layers. It is up to you how good a dreamer you are. How deep you can dream. NYC is certainly a dreamer's city. A Dreamer's dream!

Often I have tried to analyze why I love being in NYC? Is it the Union square where we have spent hours watching people pass by or watch them perform some of the strangest acts. Is it museums, or endless galleries at Chelsea( unfortunately this is disappearing rapidly with art market crash) absorbing a visual feast, is it the sound of good jazz music you hear amidst rushing crowds in subways? or is it the quintessential fire alarm vans zooming past the city at any given hour of the day and night. Is it the jazz performance at one of the many clubs that come alive on Friday nights. Is it the many hours you spend in pet shops pampering those strays cats or those book shops that let you read books even if you spend a day siting in a corner. Is it the huge malls, fashion label houses,huge electronic billboards, mega technology shops that never stops flirting with your eyes. It is hard to say which way NYC seduces you.

People trust you .. even if you are a stranger.People make direct eye contact and smile when they make sales and greet with their quintessential Newyorkian "hi...howyoudoing?" When you get on the bus and give a $10 bill for $1 ticket , trust me bus driver won't bark at you to get out of bus. Surprisingly you might get to hear, "Its ok. Pay me next time". Even when she knows you are just visiting the city and never see her again. Compare this to Bombay bus conductor who will make sure you will be embarrassed before hundreds of passengers as if you have been caught red handed. Even the museum staff, who knows you are a visitor in this city will give you that extra minute to linger around an art work even when the closing bell has been announced for closing gallery. No rules are shown to you.( as long as they are not broken) No one doubts you. No one fears you.In short New york does not bite, you Just because you are a stranger.No matter which nation you come from , which religion you belong to, which race you are born in. There seemed to be an acceptance for what you are. City embraces and celebrates diversity. You feel free, for you don't have to answer any questions to any one for who you are.

But New york is not America, as the Newyorkers proudly claim. They believe they are a world in itself. As they say, if you stand by Times square for fifteen minutes you meet the whole world. And how true it is when you enter the subways when you see whole range of racial profiles boarding and exiting a metro train in unison. This sight never stops amusing me. As if next moment they might bust singing " we are the world..."


Yet again New york managed to spin a dream for me. By the time my short visit ended I felt refreshed and energized. Like a good dream. Or is it another clever inception?

Who knows? I am not going to spin any more totems to check if this is real.

Everytime

every time I mince this meat
I still believe in love

every time there is a war
I still believe in peace

every time there is hate call
I believe in understanding

every time I die
I believe I will be born

every time...
I believe I understand
You

Alas!