Wednesday, 17 August 2022
|PC: Smitha Keeran Warrier|
I wonder what they feel about displaying their handiwork – these pieces of their heart and soul – right out there in the market. For millions of pairs of eyes to watch them and furtively look at the price tags. For as many hands to fondle them with desire, grab them at the conversion rate that's so favourable to the wallets they hold, or just flick them back and return them on some pretext or the other. By the way, who are we to speculate and haggle over the value of such priceless creations?
And what are these works of art made of anyway? Clay, wood, metal, cloth? Ropes, wires, threads, beads, stones? But they – the jewels, artefacts, prayer bowls, and all – beckon all our senses. They catch our eyes and we remain captivated. We pick them up and caress them in our hands. We breathe in the smell of their earthy newness. We listen in rapture to the prayers that swirl and vibrate within them. What are they after all? Just matter? Or, maya, as per the beliefs the Stupa stands for?
Yes. Maya. The name board confirms.
Wednesday, 3 August 2022
Tuesday, 5 July 2022
Wednesday, 29 June 2022
|Sarangkot, Pokhara, Nepal|
"The stillness in stillness is not the real stillness; only when there is stillness in movement does the universal rhythm manifest." - Bruce Lee.
I never could get the actual sense of Lee's words, try hard as I might to figure it out in the context of his own field of action. But his words made sense to me as I, along with my co-travellers, stood atop a hill at Sarangkot, watching the horizon, hoping to catch a glimpse of the rising sun. It eluded us anyway, hiding itself behind vivid cloudy folds.
Stillness. It manifests in different ways. Sometimes it's frozen and hard as a rock. Sometimes it drifts by like a gentle zephyr or a sailing wisp of a cloud. At times it's quiet like still waters. And at times, deafening like a roaring sea. Now and then, it would shed all its hues and yet again wear a vibrant collage of colours.
Stillness. Occasionally, you discover it within you. More often, you come across it around you, enfolding you, trickling into you, little by little, slowly, steadily. This stillness. This moving stillness.
seeps, fills, overflows