Take aim.....fire!

A Pakistani pilot writes a letter of apology for shooting down a civilian plane in the 1965 Indo-Pak war. As I watched the program on television I was once again swallowed up by the memories of my childhood, where from a very young I was never comfortable with the idea of "hired killing" in the name of nationalism. My father was an Indian Air Force fighter pilot who has fought in that battle. For me, as his daughter, I always have this deep conflict of pride and sorrow that I carry till today over the fact of my father was obliged, by his commitment to his job, to kill in the name of war.

Images of Hiroshima and Nagasaki are not easy to forget. The scars of the long drawn out Vietnam war that the Americans embarked upon in the 60's,  are visible till today in both countries as a stark reminder of the futility of making GI Joe's games become a reality.  Nobody wins in a war and yet it prevails as the chosen option of settling panga's across borders.

For any nation to sanction human destruction is a strange concept for me. That duty to ones nation then binds you to murder as a heroic action for which you are rewarded with medals of decoration, becomes equally painful an idea to comprehend.

Yet concepts of peace become merely idealised notional spaces that only transpire as great "treaty signing" photo-opportunities, that never translate into implemented modules of co-existence. Perhaps it is because human-beings have so much suppressed anger and violence that  erupts from small provocations, that war becomes an excusable exercise in settling scores. 

I have lived in close proximity of the heroic belief of military passion.  I do not know that I can ever feel the stirring of  such national pride that demands of me to take up the call of arms. Communication can always lead to negotiation if the will and desire prevail.

Up in smoke and cinders...

I studied in London for two years and have always said that this city will forever hold a special place in my heart. So it is a personal sorrow for me to watch the news and see arson and looting occur in the name of "frustration" and the supposed "venting of anger" in this historic city;  and see very little control being established by the law enforcing agencies to put an end to these  riots. That the British police are racist is no big secret, and most certainly the death of a person from police firing would certainly have triggered a response of outrage and protest; but to run amok and destroy the property of innocent people, and steal with blatant disregard for what the consequences are for those whose livelihood depends on these businesses, is down right criminal.

Buildings are gutted and cars lie burnt in the streets of Birmingham, Liverpool, Manchester, Bristol  and  Nottingham, as hoodlums take advantage and use social networking sites to fuel the rampage-parade with a vengeance; and display an ugly opportunism that is horrifying. On a recent television debate on this subject,  a panelist from the UK jokingly made fun of the history of English thuggery and said it came as no surprise that such incidents occur since this is part of a cultural tradition since many centuries! I suppose British humour will be the only tide to ride in the wake of such a dark period in British history.

It is well established that the Asian communities in Britain are hard working and contribute significantly to the country's economic growth. This often causes deep resentments with the African-American community and those from the Caribbean. So the fear in such times is that such riots can turn communal.

Theories of these riots being pre-planned and a conspiracy are now doing the rounds. Whatever maybe the case I do believe quick and firm action needs to be taken by the prevailing British government, and order restored as the first priority; with the culprits booked for vandalism and rioting and stringent punishments meted out to act as a deterrent to copy-cat scenarios. If local goons can stir up such havoc and continue to inflict terror over cities over a sustained period of time, without the police being capable of quelling this delinquency, then one truly wonders what will be the fate of the people of Britain  if a terrorist attack of magnitude occurs.

My London holds memories of the smell of paint in my studio, visits to the museums, dinners in Soho, cursing the rain whilst dashing from one tube station to another (!), cycle rides over the bridges on summer days, and walks in Hyde Park with conversations that centered around art and dreams, all folded together; amongst many other things that youth and optimism nurtures.

That people have to guard their localities themselves against rioters is sad to hear. I hope that this mess ends quickly and that better sense prevails. I hear that people are coming out in London to clean up. After all to destroy what is yours must mean you have very little comprehension of who you truly are; so it is heartening to know that human courage has begun to triumph in England,  and peace and normalcy may soon be accomplished because  the will of the people  desire this to be part of their  existence.

Happy Friendship day!

Apologies for my long absence from this space. Ill heath, house guests, the Collective Studio management, and travel, along with long hours in my studio put my blog on the back burner for a while. But hopefully I shall be back to my writing with less ruptures from this week onwards.

Happy Friendship day!

I feel really blessed with the friends that fill my life. Each of them add so much to who I am as a person. Their long phone calls, their daily concern, their attention  for details that bring delight to my life and their constant vigilance to see that my life is always full of the energies that best nurture my spirit becomes a cyclic gift that is seamless in time. Thank you my friends for all the love.

Mithun and Samera drove down for a days visit yesterday with the agenda to take Surendran, Aditi and me out for dinner! Next weekend will see my favourite "couple" back at home for a longer weekend that holds the promise of a picnic (!!) which needs me to muster my enthusiasm for  flies and the lack of  clean toilets(!!), but soldier on I will because it will be loads of fun with the jing bang lot of us doing masti and regressing in age, with sandwiches and cakes as comfort food !

I am aghast each time I put the news on these days. Land grabbing and custodial deaths, ministers with triple murders as their achievements and over played cricketers hounded by the media for loosing a game which causes  more furore than urgent national problems like illegal poaching of tigers or mining or the suicides of farmers.

I caught a strange debate on TV, hosted by Arnab Goswami that seemed truly bizarre and quite farcical with Mahesh Jetmalani and Anumpam Kher extremely being personal and rude to Teesta Setalvad, who despite the hostility held her own and was the only voice that was informed and rational. Arnab is a rabble rouser who held such potential when he was with NDTV. What a slide down to become this pontificator who does little else except wind people up, interrupt them and use air time in such a pedestrian way. Nidhi Razdan and Bharka Dutt remain anchors who have kept the quality of interviewing very high. They bring out points of view and positions that allow for issues to be examined and for debates to hold relevance. Maybe it is time for Tarun Tejpal and the Tehelka gang to start a TV channel. I would certainly be a subscriber.

One dark cloud too many.....

I have been walking around with my head in a dark cloud and tears that come too quickly to my eyes since the last two days. The idea of never knowing when the destructive tendencies of others can destroy the life of another, weighs heavy on my soul. Who will be the victim, targeted or accidental, in a world that today holds no explanations that make any logical sense about the "whys" of  these occurrences  leaves me weary; scrambling around inside of my head for the lifeline of optimism to keep me afloat.

The weight of love is difficult to express, especially if you have cultivated a philosophy where this is central to your ideas about life and existence. Perhaps such choices make ones emotions too tender and raw; but then for me it would be difficult to know any other way because this is the membrane by which the osmosis of  my comprehension occurs.

One of my best friends is at a crossroad in his life. A divorcee who had a terribly scarring experience ten years ago; today is desiring to remarry. The anxiety  he carries within him  not to make a mistake a second time round, floats into my orbit of concern; and I lug about this weight of worry in my heart, wishing that I could promise him a fairytale future.

It is not always the big and visible acts of violence that hold terror for some, but equally those private spaces of hidden pain or memories you chance upon in the lives of others, that can cloud the light and direction of purpose in personal journey. In the Collective Studio there are many times that a heart is heavy, and the spirit weary. It is at moments like these that the comfort of reassurance, the reminder of belief, the light of another or merely the silent understanding of a situation, makes it possible to fight another day and win.

Up in my studio....

I have four  paintings lined up against my studio wall, each one sort of clamouring for my attention like pesky kids sometimes do; and I catch myself sneakily peaking at them (like an over anxious mother does!) on occasions when my concentration and focus is meant to be else where! Pinks and greys and oranges and blues....all seated in confidence with the belief that they alone command the most delight of all; whilst objects and figures jostle together, elbowing and nudging one another to hold their rightful place for my consideration.

I know when a painting is finally finished because it sort of doesn't allow me to fidget with it any more. It rejects even  my surreptitious attempts to gain re-entry into its formation; and on those few occasions of stubborn insistence to impose and not heed what the painting quietly suggests, I have maimed and destroyed their inherent energies irrevocably.

A finished painting holds a space of it's own. You interact with it something like the way you engage with your adult child: in the knowledge that it comes from you; but often within a space where it turns back to teach you something from it's separated existence.

As an exhibition date nears I also love the swelling up of my studio with the work that fills its space - like a pregnant belly, ripe and ready to yield something you know; yet full of nuanced surprises that hold you equally in awe and anticipation.

Different friends hop off the shelves of my library and whisper different things to me. Manuscript paintings and favourite images become animated in the passion of mingling my senses into their intoxicating vibrancy. I strut around my studio wrapped these days in colourful sari's and bling bindi's, with the excitement of a performer preparing for my deliverance.

My studio reverberates with music these days. Joan Baez, Miles Davis, M.S Subbulakshmi, Indian Ocean, Zila Khan....three angels hold a new born infant on a pink background. This is the painting that calls out the loudest to me today. By this evening it may become quieter and need me less. 

Up and down and turn around....

With a viral that has left me with sea legs and a lurching tummy for the last week, I have occupied myself with the finishing details of two of my current paintings. I always find that in the concentration and focus of working in my studio, even the most damning of headaches quietly creep into the back spaces of my consciousness, leaving me able to exist in a suspended state of  a "perfect" existence. That in my opinion is called Luck in the time of Viral!

The Collective Studio has had its share of ups and down in the last few months. The up factors start with a wonderful group show of Lee Hayan, Kim Seola and Schon Mendes to be hosted by Sakshi in the month of August. A great result for N. Divya who came second in her painting batch in her undergraduate program, and Kim Seola who was truly he toast of her M.A class with a display of water colours that stood on par with the work of those who were her examiners. Karishma D'souza has just been awarded a residency for 2012 at the Rijksakademie in Amsterdam, and Malavika Rajnarayan has been invited to the Can Serrat international artists residency program situated just outside of Barcelona in Spain. And perhaps most excitingly, Sonatina Mendes will soon be moving into her new studio-home built as a project by the Collective Studio. From the family in Bombay we had Mithun act in his first Bollywood movie Daana Paani and our Samera invited to be a jury member for the Print Week Awards.

The down side at the Collective Studio is that Kim Seola's father is critically ill with a long suffering health disorder that puts him in and out of hospital frequently. Lee Hayan's father too has a long standing kidney ailment that requires daily medical intervention and has just undergone an emergency hernia operation. N. Divya's mother in Chennai has been diagnosed with a spinal injury  that is giving her considerable pain, and needs a two week rest period. Malavika's maternal grandfather has suffered a stroke in Bangalore. Not to forget the recent hospitalization of our adopted granddaughter Aditi and Surendran  who currently is with a bronchial congestion that would put a wheezing bus to shame! All in all not the best health bulletin to report. Begum of course looks cool in the "pre-monsoon-kill-the-lizard-and-put-it-under-mama's-favourite-chair-to-frigging-freak -her-out" season!

But with all this happening, the love and care and consideration in the Collective Studio brings together energies that otherwise alone would not be there to tide us through the sometimes exhausting aspects of emotional worry, and physical health issues that need attention. However the see-saw of life in an interesting thing to encounter with ones eyes wide open. The views from up or the bottom are in fact really the same landscape of life; it's just a matter of how we guide our perception, and whether we want to hold the entire vista of what the vision of life truly entails.

* Standing: N.Divya and Lee Hayan. Middle row:Sonatina Mendes and Malavika Rajnarayan. Seated at bottom row: Kim Seola and Schon Mendes.

Gathering my own sea shells....

A lot of my "thinking" occurs when taking my shower in the morning. Stray thoughts from almost the entire universe of my being invade my head, like juggernauts from outer space; and I close my eyes and allow them to settle into my consciousness before attempting the process of sorting and analysing the whys and what's of all that is in my head. I really value this special time that welcomes into my day, people and thoughts that index where my mind will lay itself, to contemplate.

In equal measure, I need to often empty my head of the load I carry, and the time I spend coming back from the gym (on those days where this routine is not ruptured), I once again consciously empty my head by another process of random associations that work in the opposite manner. I take from my mind and place outside of myself the connection and conjunctions that almost "leave" the idea or thought pinned elsewhere;  outside of me. I often let laughter invade my being when I am on my own, letting the actual physical act of laughter be released through  humorous associations that I make up within my head.

This filling and emptying of my inner self is like a distilling process. It filters and releases, and allows for new spaces of energy to be examined; sometimes by allowing the sense of control to be abandoned and drifting in a space of complete nothingness or lightness.

My spiritual intoxication has never come from external substances but has been realised from this internal well that can produce a sensation of sublime fulfilment from self discovery. Whether from the strand of a memory, a location of recollection, the strains of music revisited, or the stillness of my head as I paint ......... all this and more; like the ebb and flow of the sea brings energy to the shoreline of my life.