He and She: A Photo Essay

A new post in the series: Things of Beauty

I found Her & Him - Them - hidden in the back in a dusty corner of a large shop in the temple town of Kumbakonam, Tamil Nadu. A Chola-style Ardhnarishvara, who now adorns a small corner in my home.

The Chola style of Ardhnarishvara form, often cast in bronze or panchaloha (an alloy of five metals -- copper, lead, zinc, gold, and silver), is unique because of three arms, two on the Shiva side and one on the Shakti/Parvati side. However, in the majestic Brihadeeshwarar temple, built by emperor Raja Raja Chola I at Thanjavur, one finds a magnificent eight-armed form of Ardhnarishvara:

When I saw my Ardhnarishvara that evening, I knew why I had stood totally transfixed earlier that morning at the Gangaikonda Cholapuram Temple in front of this:

Source

When I saw my little Ardhnarishvara I knew exactly the spot that will be His/Her abode in my home.

Why did this particular spot come to mind spontaneously? Perhaps because a contemporary form of Ardhnarishwara, framed under glass, already has found its home there. 

A painting made by the young Delhi-based artist, Bindu Popli, titled "You and Me 2" hangs on the wall just above the panchaloha Ardhnarishvara. (Actually it is a print of her painting -- can't afford all original works even though the artist is my sister and gives me great discounts!) And yes, there is also a "You and Me 1", a print of which hangs in another room.

I have always thought of this particular work as the artist's vision of Ardhnarishvara -- a totality that lies beyond duality, a non-duality that is beyond the unity of opposites, a oneness that is beyond the complementarity of the masculine and feminine principles. 

Several years ago, the artist had done another Ardhnarishvara, which she actually called by that name. This was a wall mural in her previous studio.

Small photographic prints of this Ardhnarishvara have also found home in my place. In three different versions -- coloured, black & white and sepia under the stairs. 

So yes, I do feel a special connection with this particular form of the Divine, Ardhnarishvara! Here are three that adorn my home, up close. 

May the Two That are One and the One That is Many continue to grace my inner Home too.

          

               

"Without Him I Exist Not, Without Me He is Unmanifest."

(The Mother)

Each now was a part of the other’s unity,

The world was but their twin self-finding’s scene

.......

For we were man and woman from the first,

The twin souls born from one undying fire.

(Sri Aurobindo, Savitri)

Unless specified all photos are from personal archives, taken by family members.

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

To see all posts in the series, click here.

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To see the previous photo essay on this blog, click here.

Sounds of Silence

A new post in the series - Light and Sound

When a picture searches for its music, or a piece of music finds its right picture...the result is a magical experience of Light and Sound. 

I think at various points in our lives we have all heard the sounds of silence. But have you heard silence speak like this? 

Jon Hassell,  Album: Last night the moon came dropping its clothes in the street

Tracks: Blue Period and Light on the Water

Jon Hassell, the American trumpet player and composer, gives a whole new sound to the silences in this piece of music. Don't you think so?

I was first introduced to his music through a World Music collaboration he had done about 15 years ago with the noted Indian bansuri player Pandit Ronu Majumdar and American guitarist Ry cooder. That album, titled Hollow Bamboo is a must-listen for all world music lovers. Two tracks from Hollow Bamboo were also featured on this blog, here and here.

But let's come back to the music for today. Listen to the sounds of silence in this piece of music. 

Listen to it again. And again. Can you feel the silence entering into you, deep? Doesn't it smoothly take you into that silent space where you are alone with yourself? Does it sound mysterious, hypnotic, a bit haunting even, but in a positive sense of the word?  

"...what I mean is that there is an inner condition in which the external form is not the most important thing; it is the origin of the music, the inspiration from beyond, which is important; it is not purely the sounds, it is what the sounds express." (The Mother)

What do the sounds of this music express for you? 

For me, the sounds also express what I see being expressed in this picture below: 

Photograh by Marataeman, Source

  

I can't tell you how many times I have looked at this picture in the last year or so, ever since I stumbled upon it on the net. There is something so inviting in this, something so quietly and silently inviting. Perhaps an invitation into the world of silence, into the sounds and sights of silence. 

Kind of like the music by Jon Hassell.

This one image made me curious enough to look up some more work by this brilliant photographer, and I find almost all of it so amazingly beautiful in its quiet grandeur and embracing vastness. Take a look, here and here.

I am always awed by the beauty of the experience, of the moment when sounds and sights come together in such perfect harmony. Such perfect silence.


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To see the previous post in the series Light and Sound, click here.
To see all the posts in this series, click here.

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Linking with Blog-a-rhythm, Wordy Wednesday, prompt: Shadows of Silence.

Priceless are the Moments....Part II

A new post in the series - When a Picture Leads

To read the first part of the story, click here.

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He had offered her a life of beauty, a life with nature, trees, flowers and butterflies. She had said yes, a big happy yes. That's exactly what she had wanted too.

But something changed. What? Why?  

Maybe she was wrong. Nothing had changed. They did have a beautiful life, at least that's what everyone she knew said, about their life. They had a good life, a luxuriously comfortable home, big backyard with lots of trees and exotic plants, a little pond with waterlilies, flowers of almost every imaginable colour, and yes, butterflies too. 

This last part she assumed. Because she hadn't really seen any butterflies. At least not in the last few years. She just didn't have the time. Wall Street kept her busy and busier. 

She looked again at the picture on her ipad and remembered those moments. Those moments when all she needed was to lay down with him under a shady tree and close her eyes. And she would dream of butterflies and flowers, flowers and butterflies.

She knew what she had to do. She looked again, this time at the ring she was holding, her actual engagement ring. And walked to the little shed in her backyard. 

This was his place. A photography studio he had built for himself, with all his cameras - old and new, lenses, tripods, a computer, printer and all other paraphernalia an amateur needs. He had kept up his love for nature photography, even if it meant working part-time. She envied him now, for this.

He was cleaning some old lens. She walked up to him and gently placed her hand on his shoulder. He looked up inquiringly. She just kept quiet and smiled. Something in her eyes told him. He knew that she had seen the email. He knew that she remembered. They just kept looking in each other's eyes. Silently.

And then he saw it. Dangling on the chain around her neck was the ring. 

The ring he had made for her. With those tiny little seeds that he had found on one of their walks together in the woods. She had no idea what he was going to do with those, and she didn't ask. After all it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. They always gathered dried leaves and little pebbles and seedpods and what not...and most of the times those priceless riches went to either his place or hers. She used to love these little treasures from Nature and decorate her room, bookshelves with those. She had filled up many old jars with such treasures.

But that was back then.

He now saw the seed-ring dangling on the chain on her neck. After all these years, she was actually wearing it. It wasn't really a ring that she could wear. Or anyone could wear. And they had laughed about it when he gave her that as their engagement ring. But she had loved it. Loved it absolutely. And he had loved her laughter, and joined in as he tried to place the ring awkwardly on her finger. It was a ring that spoke of their shared love, their love for each other and their love for the woods, the nature, the trees, the flowers. And the butterflies.

But that was back then.

And now here it was, dangling on the chain around her neck. Her finger casually circling it as she stood there smiling with her eyes. In silence. And he knew. He knew that their love was back. 

He stood up and held her hand. They walked out of the shed, into the backyard. Holding hands in silence they kept walking back and forth, around the trees, around the lily pond and just back and forth. 

And then she saw. After several years, she saw a butterfly. Really saw it.

Yes, they were there. They had always been there. It was she who had gone missing. 

He looked at her. She was smiling. And remembering. Those priceless moments. And he knew. He knew she was back. Their love was back.

They continued walking, in silence, making their moments priceless. Once again they were in love.

~ Photos by Suhas Mehra

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To read the first part of this story, click here.

To read all the posts in the series, click here.

Priceless are the Moments...Part I

A new post in the series - When a Picture Leads

He knew he had to capture it. That sight. That moment. For his love.  

Dangling on the chain was that beauty he knew his love would love. A thin little branch, a chain of the big tree of life, and there it was dangling on it, a beautiful brown and blue butterfly. 

 

Beautiful in its simplicity, in what it seemed to be saying.

He captured the beauty on his camera. And emailed it to her the same evening. He wasn't even sure if it will reach her, but it didn't matter. But he specifically chose to send it to her old email address, from several years ago. He thought it was more charming, more romantic. His mind worked that way - then and now.

She had however changed, and not just her email address. 

But she still checked that old email address once or twice a week...just in case... 

And that day she checked. She couldn't believe her eyes. Was it really his name she saw? Why was he emailing her? And at this old address? With a slight irritation she shook her head impatiently and opened the email and saw.

There were only two words in the subject line - For love....

And below, only four.

Remember the moment when....

And then she opened the attachment. 

She sat in silence, looking at the picture, remembering. Not just that one moment, but a lot of those moments. Those walks, those flowers, those butterflies, those moments of beauty, those moments of love they experienced together. 

When did those moments end? Why did they end? 

And she remembered that moment too. That moment when she knew exactly what she wanted. Him. A life with him.

Her left forefinger casually went up to touch something on her neck. Dangling on the chain was an intricately designed diamond pendant. She walked to her bedroom and straight to her closet. She opened the drawer and found it. The ring he had presented to her when he asked her to marry him. 

That was the moment.

The moment when they had spotted a beautiful butterfly dangling on a thin little leaf, and the passion with which they admired the beautiful yellows, reds, whites and blacks of the butterfly contrasting with the green of the leaf. And the way their eyes and hearts could see and feel the love that was all around in nature, all around them, in them.

Several moments passed. The butterfly just sat there, and so did they, in silence. They smiled at such beauty and looked at each other with smiling eyes.

That was the moment she knew what she wanted. And she knew he knew it too. And he too knew that she knew what he wanted most of all. Their love was like that, silent and beautiful.

This was the moment for which he had kept that ring carefully hidden in the side pocket of his camera bag. He gently took it out and presented it to her. And asked her the question. Simply, beautifully. Amidst those trees, flowers and butterflies.

(Pictures by Suhas Mehra)

To read the second and concluding part of the story, click here.

To see the previous posts in the series, When a Picture Leads, click here.

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Linking this post to Write Tribe- Wednesday Prompt - Dangling on the chain was....

Also linking this post with ABC Wednesday: P - P is for Priceless

Eastern Light

A new series - Light and Sound

When a picture searches for its music, or a piece of music finds its right picture...the result is a magical experience of Light and Sound. 

Photo by Hengki Koentjoro, sourced from here

There is a certain mystical quality to the above picture, something about this skyline of grand temples and pagodas that seem to be reaching up to the infinite heavens above.

A few more silent minutes of contemplation reveals that the picture also speaks of a sense of deep awareness that the real infinity lies within, hidden between or behind or underneath light and shadow, clarity and obscurity, luster and dullness.

To me at least, in its own way this picture speaks of something very specific that emphasizes the uniqueness of the East, where the deepest inmost seeking has traditionally been the starting point for most of the outer action, including the building of massive structures where inner contemplation meets outer worship, with an aim to unite the worshipper, the act of worship, and the object of worship into One that is in fact Everyone and Everything.

In their own language of melody and notes, of sounds and silences, Pandit Ravi Shankar and Friends expressed a similar sentiment in their album East Greets East. The picture above seems to find its music in the following track...  

Don't the picture and the music go together well? I think so.

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Linked to ABC Wednesday: "E" is for East.

Beauty in Opposites

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

Sometimes you find beauty and meaning when you come across two absolutely contradictory things. 

Like this ghazal by Ghalib, in the young voice of Jagjit Singh from late 1960s. The feeling of Hopelessness, Lost-in-the-World is wonderfully expressed through the words as well as the singing. 

And then, a few days later you see something like this -  

Photo by Hengki Koentjoro, via here

This picture appropriately titled Hope by the photographer captures and expresses so perfectly the essence of what Hope is  - a bright light shining through where all seems dark and dreary. 

This oscillation between Hopelessness and Hope is what our ordinary experience is mostly about. There are days we feel so full of hope, optimism and a quiet feeling of assurance that all is well, and all will be well. And then there are days when we just don't know how to let go of this persistent feeling of doubt, despair and hopelessness. 

Maybe it is this oscillation that keeps us real and grounded in this relative realm where the chaos and mess of every-day life can at times be overwhelming and over-powering. Perhaps if we can somehow grow in our acceptance of this simple truth that the length of the shadow is only as real as the movement of the light, maybe we can then learn to see this oscillation as part of the inherent beauty of this worldly existence of ours....just like the dance of light and shadow. 

Perhaps. 

Click here for the previous post in this series.

Click here for all the posts in this series.

Do Not Imitate

A new post in the series - Satyam Shivam Sundaram

A series featuring inspiring words from various sources, words that speak of  timeless truths, words that remind me of the deeper and hidden truth behind surface events and phenomena, words that shine light when all seems dark, words that are just what I need - 

for this moment and for all times to come.

There are times when all you need to do is stop trying. Stop trying to know, understand, explain, decipher, imagine, make sense of, struggle. You don't need to. 

These are times when you just need to be ready. Ready to be in the mystery, the unknown. Ready to be present, to receive when the mystery unravels itself, when the known reveals itself.

Those are the times when you actually experience. Experience Art, Beauty, Knowledge.

Those are the times when you stop copying and start seeing. Really seeing the unseen. 

Photo by Nandini Valli

"Photography is an art when the photographer is an artist."

~ The Mother

"The greatness of Indian art is the greatness of all
Indian thought and achievement. It lies in the recognition
of the persistent within the transient, of the domination of
matter by spirit, the subordination of the insistent appearances
of Prakriti to the inner reality which, in a thousand ways, the
Mighty Mother veils even while she suggests.
....
Imitation is the key-word of creation, according to
Aristotle; Shakespeare advises the artist to hold up the mirror
to Nature; and the Greek scientist and the English poet reflect
accurately the mind of Europe.
But the Indian artist has been taught by his philosophy and
the spiritual discipline of his forefathers that the imagination is
only a channel and an instrument of some source of knowledge
and inspiration that is greater and higher..."
~ Sri Aurobindo

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Previous posts in this series:

Beauty, Not a Stone on the Beach      So, What are You Working on?     Inner Truth of a Flower

On Sensitivity and Appreciation of Beauty   "No Construction Without Destruction"

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Also filing it under the series - When a Picture Leads