Hare Krishna

A new post  in the series: When a Picture Leads

A Krishna Janamashtami Special

For the last couple of weeks I have been reading and thinking about a few things on Indian Art, especially focusing on the theme of spirituality in Indian Art. It has been a wonderful learning so far, and someday hope to go deeper into what is now a very preliminary study. 

So naturally on this special occasion of Sri Krishna Janmashtami, what else would be on my mind but Krishna in art? Krishna, whose Divinty as well as Līlā, whose Heroism as well as Love, whose Yoga as well as Pranks, all have inspired great art, music, poetry and literature in India. For thousands of years, and to this day.

Sharing today three of my current favourite 'Krishna' paintings, from three different artists, representing three different generations and genres of Indian painting.

The great revivalist Bengal School of Abanindranath Tagore is represented beautifully in Chughtai's Dream, combined with a delicacy unique to Miniature style; whereas the bold and free strokes of a globally inspired but a culturally rooted modernism is the hallmark of Hussain's Krishna Lila. And the one in the middle, Shiva's Flute, is by a young artist from Delhi, Bindu, whose work though inspired by several different styles remains a personal search for the invisible behind the visible, inviting the viewer to join her in this sacred journey.

Three out of countless different ways to express Love for Krishna. To express Krishna's Love.

Let the pictures now do rest of the speaking...

Artist: M. A. R. Chugtai

If the artist cannot put into his work what was in him…his work is a futile abortion. But if he has expressed what he has felt, the capacity to feel it must also be there in the mind that looks at his work. 

Artist: Bindu Popli

...it is the spirit that carries the form

Artist: M.F. Hussain

Each finite is that deep Infinity 

Enshrining His veiled soul of pure delight.

All quotes are from Sri Aurobindo.

Want to experience more of Krishna love, this time in music? Click here for another Sri Krishna Janamashtami special post. 

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To see the previous post in "When a Picture Leads", click here. 

To see all the posts led by pictures, click here.

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Linking with ABC Wednesday, H: H is for Hare Krishna

Untitled Meanderings

A few weeks ago, a friend and I had a brief exchange of thoughts on Facebook about Raja Ravi Varma's style of painting. I had said to him that I don't really care much for that kind of artistic work, and an interesting discussion ensued about Indian art, the inner and outer dimension of art, personal aesthetic preferences and a few other things about culture and human motives in life.

That exchange sort of inspired this post. I was hoping to go deeper into some of the points my friend and I had briefly touched upon. But as I started writing, the post took on a life of its own and it has now become something totally different.

That's okay, I go with the flow.

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Antaryatra (Inner Journey): Painting by Bindu Popli

Like I said in an earlier post, I am not an artist. Unless one considers writing that I do on this blog as some sort of "artsy" work. I highly doubt that. But I deeply admire and respect the artistic process that artists, sculptors, poets, creative photographers, writers experience - from that first inspiration to the final work of art they consider as done.

At the same time, like everyone else I know, I have my personal preference and taste in art or what I consider artistic. I am not fond of what may be called as realistic art or art that captures reality as is. For me, that piece of art doesn't say much if the only thing it says is an imitation, no matter how good and perfect, of what is found in nature or life. A perfectly done portrait of a person or an inanimate object is not really my preference in art. Where is the mystery, my mind and heart ask. Where is the hidden, my mind and heart search.

All bad art comes from returning to life and nature, and elevating them into ideals. Life and nature may sometimes be used as part of art's rough material, but before they are of any real service to art they must be translated into artistic conventions. The moment art surrenders its imaginative medium it surrenders everything. As a method realism is a complete failure, and the two things that every artist should avoid are modernity of form and modernity of subject-matter.

-- Oscar Wilde

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Over the last few years I have also come to a realisation that realism in writing also doesn't do much for me either. I am discovering that I don't care much for the kind of writing that is merely a documentation of what is observed or heard or experienced. I used to do such writing as part of my social science research training and professional work. Such writing serves an important purpose in advancing our collective understanding of outer human experience and I know from experience it isn't easy to do.

But that was then.

Now I am more inclined toward writing that doesn't merely reproduce the various 'facts' or 'realities' of life and nature as experienced by the subject(s) or character(s) in question. I am touched by the writing that makes room for the unseen, the invisible, the 'un-real' almost. No matter how enjoyable the turn of the phrase and how masterful the wordsmithing, a piece of writing that is only about 'what is' doesn't really move me. I am moved by the writing that seems to invite me to explore 'what isn't but could be', the writing that compels me to 'see' the invisible behind the appearance, to 'hear' the silence between the two audible words, to 'experience' the stillness behind all that is in motion.

That's the kind of writing I aspire to do someday.

No, not fantasy. Not science fiction. Neither fiction, nor non-fiction. Not abstract philosophy. No, no.

O Poet, O Artist, if thou but holdest up the mirror to Nature, thinkest thou Nature will rejoice in thy work? Rather she will turn away her face. For what dost thou hold up to her there? Herself? No, but a lifeless outline and reflection, a shadowy mimicry. It is the secret soul of Nature thou hast to seize, thou hast to hunt eternally after the truth in the external symbol, and that no mirror will hold for thee, nor for her whom thou seekest.

-- Sri Aurobindo

I hope to write of life and about life, but life that isn't only lived on the outer surface. I hope to write about nature, but nature that isn't only seen with the outer eyes. I wish to engage in an experience of writing that tries to seize something that is only vaguely expressing itself, or hiding itself, through the outer expression of words, sentences, paragraphs. The writing that engages with the invisible behind the visible, the eternal behind the temporal, the spirit behind the form.

If I had the Midas touch, that's the kind of writing I would like to do...



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You may also like a few more posts on writing - On Writing in English,  Blank Pages No More, Light is All You Need, Why Should I Write

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This post has been picked as a WOW post by BlogAdda. The topic this time is - "If I had the Midas touch...."

Song for Sunday

A new post in the series - A Poem and A Song

It is actually quite amazing when you find the same thought being expressed through a picture, a poem, a song, or even a gesture. Perhaps it happens because the thought has sunk deep into you, at least for the time being, and you just view a certain picture, read a certain poem and hear a certain song as expressions of that singular thought. 
Or perhaps they really are conveying the same thought, but in different shades and hues. 
And it just so happens that when that very thought captured your attention, certain pictures, poems and songs also appeared before you allowing you to delve deeper into the thought and let it reveal its deeper essence to you. 
Regardless of how it happens, it is always a moment to relish and cherish the beauty. The beauty of the picture, the song, the poem. The beauty of the experience. The beauty of the moment.

If you have visited this blog often or even only occasionally, you know music gets its due share on this blog. In fact, a few of my recent postings (see here and here) have been about some of my all-time favourite songs.

So go ahead, ask me. Ask me if there is a particular song that I am enjoying today. Ok, don’t ask me. I will tell you anyway.

Yes, there is.

After a long time I listened to one of my favourite songs today. And of course I listened to it many times, over and over. Don’t know why I hadn't felt like listening to it for so many days, weeks. But today being my first Sunday back home after being away for three weeks, this somehow turned out to be a perfect song for the day. Lingering, melodious, captivating, almost compelling the listener to slow down and go with the flow, flow of music, flow of the words, flow of the heart. 

Listen and you might agree. 

Singer/Composer: Jagjit Singh, Lyricist: Gulzar

And then to make the experience of the song even richer and fuller, I was reminded of the following lines by Rumi:

When I am with you, we stay up all night,

When you're not here, I can't get to sleep.

Praise God for these two insomnias!

And the difference between them.

So if the question for the day would be - Is there a poem and song for the day for you? My answer would be - yes, there is.

How about you, do you have a song for the day?

Image: Painting by Bindu Popli

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To see the previous post in this series, click here.

To see all the posts in this series, click here.

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Linking this with Write Tribe: Answer a Question

In Praise of Form

A new post in the series: 

A Poem and A Song - XIII: A Series to Celebrate Art in All Forms

It is actually quite amazing when you find the same thought being expressed through a picture, a poem, a song, or even a gesture.

Perhaps it happens because the thought has sunk deep into you, at least for the time being, and you just view a certain picture, read a certain poem and hear a certain song as expressions of that singular thought. 
Or perhaps they really are conveying the same thought, but in different shades and hues. 
And it just so happens that when that very thought captured your attention, certain pictures, poems and songs also appeared before you allowing you to delve deeper into the thought and let it reveal its deeper essence to you. 
Regardless of how it happens, it is always a moment to relish and cherish the beauty. The beauty of the picture, the song, the poem. The beauty of the experience. The beauty of the moment.

Painting by Bindu Popli

What is in a Form? Everything. If we could only develop that vision which sees the Form as a manifestation of the Spirit Within. It is the Consciousness that creates the Form. 

As grows the Consciousness, so evolves the Form. 

Must learn to identify with the Eternal Spirit within; the Form is temporal and must adapt and renew.

But do not reject the Form, because in Form dwells the Spirit.

A rishi-poet expresses the truth he has seen. A painter brings down on paper her imagination through lines and  colours. And a musician sings of the eternal love story of Radha and Krishna...a Form bursts forth as the Consciousness within moves.

And through fumbling words trying to weave these Forms together, this blog-post takes a Form that expresses an inner search.

From Form to Formless...

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FORM

O worshipper of the formless Infinite,

Reject not form, what dwells in it is He.

Each finite is that deep Infinity

Enshrining His veiled soul of pure delight.

Form in its heart of silence recondite

Hides the significance of His mystery,

Form is the wonder-house of eternity,

A cavern of the deathless Eremite.

There is a beauty in the depths of God,

There is a miracle of the Marvellous

That builds the universe for its abode.

Bursting into shape and colour like a rose,

The One, in His glory multitudinous,

Compels the great world-petals to unclose.

~ Sri Aurobindo

Singer: Ustad Rashid Khan

Previous posts in this series:
Love, the Beautiful          
What Might Have Been?               
Fly Away             
Which is Sweeter?             
Life, a Song of Love and Memories   
Diwali with a Modern Indian Poet and a Legendary Indian Musician
Of Temples, Poetry and Life     
Remembering the Mother      
On the Road       
Who is that Presence?           
Only You       
Reckless Lovers

Linked to ABCWednesday: "F" is For Form.

Those Quiet Memories

A new post in the series - "All Music is Only the Sound of His Laughter"

Painting by Bindu Popli

A quiet, lazy summer afternoon.

A mother and a daughter sitting side by side on comfortable chairs. Sitting quietly. The daughter is idly browsing through some files on her cell phone, looking for nothing in particular. The mother is meditating with her eyes closed. Or at least trying to meditate. A nice, warm feeling prevails in the room. No sounds, except the slight hiss of the airconditioner, mixed with their quiet breathing.

Out of the blue, the mother opens her eyes and asks the daughter what she was doing. Nothing, she says, and stops fidgeting with her phone. Turns toward her mother, wating for her to speak.

"Do you have any old bhajans on your phone?"

"I don't think so, but let me check. I may have a couple. Do you want to hear some bhajans?"

"No, not really. I just asked because your sister has a lot of bhajans on her phone. The other day, when she visited she played some for me."

"Well, I only keep a few old songs on my phone...here, I found this old song, I think you may like it. Do you want to hear it?"

"Ok, play it."

Voice of Manna Dey, who died yesterday, 24 Oct 2013, Music by Salil Choudhary

As the song plays, they both listen quietly. The song ends. The daughter plays it again. A few tears begin to swell up in corners of their eyes. The song ends. They sit quietly. Just with each other. Just by each other's side. Nobody says anything. Only the silence speaks. Speaks of a quiet love, a quiet longing, maybe a quiet fear of what is to come.

They both know the inevitable can happen any day. The daughter may never have such an afternoon again with her mother. The deadly disease could strike its final blow any day. The memory will always remain with her, of that quiet afternoon, those few minutes spent in her mother's drawing room...listening to the lines...

maa.n kaa dil ban ke kabhii siine se lag jaataa hai tuu 
aur kabhii nanhii.n sii beTii ban ke yaad aataa hai tuu
jitnaa yaad aataa hai mujhko utnaa taDpaataa hai tuu
tujh pe dil qurbaan 

Sometimes you cling to my chest as my mother’s heart,
and sometimes I remember you as my little daughter.
The more I remember you, the more you torment me.
I shall sacrifice my heart for you. 

Motherland. Land of her mother. Her mother's home. Her motherland. What will it be like to visit that home when she is gone? Does a mother's home, a mother's land remain so when the mother is gone?

The daughter may never know the reason why she chose that particular song to share with her mother that afternoon. May be she will.

Click here for the previous post in this series.

We Pray that It will be Done in Beauty....

It has been a while since my last post...critical matters of heart, matters of life have become the sole occupation. And while that still remains so the following words on my Facebook feed this morning resonated deeply.

To pray, you open your whole self

To sky, to earth, to sun, to moon

To one whole voice that is you.

And know that there is more

That you can’t see, can’t hear

Can’t know, except in moments

Steadily growing

and in languages that aren’t always sound

But other circles of motion

Like eagle that Sunday morning

Over Salt River

Circled in blue sky, in wind

Swept our hearts clean with sacred wings

We see you see ourselves

And know that we must take

The utmost care and kindness

In all things

Breathe in knowing we are made of all of this

And breathe, knowing we are truly blessed

because we were born and die soon

within a true circle of motion.

Like eagle, rounding out the morning inside us

We pray that it will be done

In beauty, in beauty

Poem by Joy Harjo

And whatever remains to be felt and expressed and heard beyond words, art does it all...

Prayer by Bindu Popli