" Oh, who did you meet, my blue-eyed son?
Who did you meet, my darling young one?
I met a young child beside a dea
d pony,
I met a white man who walked a black dog,
I met a young woman whose body was burning,
I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow,
I met one man who was wounded in love,
I met another man who was wounded with hatred,
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall."

his name is rajendra. he showed me my future.
i met him on the beach as he made sandcastles and offered to help him
build and rebuild everytime the waves would wash our fortress away.
he is five. maybe six. He didnt seem too sure. but he did introduce me to a crab.
he gave me a tarot card. but thats another story.

Motorcycle Diaries

That's all the motorcycle is, a system of concepts worked out in steel.
~Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance


'Untrampled Footsteps
Borderline dreams
Occasion for sinners
Alive as it seems
Given to wander
Alone at the shore
Wanton to whisper
'I am no more''
jim morisson
Me taken by ganjesh meow on my Dali beach on the tamilnadu coast.
Where is it?
I'll never tell.
But I could show you if you followed me.

"Feet to the stars, and moon-skulled"
bored and intoxicated
done on photoshop.
muchos thanks to polkameow for the quote

Moon Shiva

Moon Shiva
Moody Shiva

One sleepy morning in pondi I felt randoml
y inspired to wear flowers in my hair.
A sleepier friend (who is also my blackcatganjeshmeow aka Boodi billi)
decides to whip out her camera
and capture me on film
when we saw the pictures
we realized

(shiva to be precise)
it also proved to be a documentation of the moods of Shiva
they are:

Dopey Happy------- Grumpy-------- Sleepy Bashful
we feel that we have missed out on two documentations of moods. sneezy perhaps?
after this we ate apples(non poisoned variety)

click it for exact expressionism
and then bow down to me

ps-my fathers name is Shiva.
i havent seen him in a while
but i cannot escape the irony

"Hum Bacche uske pyaare hai
Sab ek samaan dulare hai
Nahi jaath paath ke jhagde hai
Sabko rah dikhane waala
Apna Saathi Re"

Marital Bliss

a broom
two coconuts
and phallic symbolism
some would say
it was a marriage of sorts
I'm back
and can still taste the salt on my skin.
take me back to the ocean.
Please. :)
"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head)"
-Sylvia Plath
What is it?
A Skull
That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once.
Now it lays wrapped like a baby
in the dead skin of a snake.
Sleeping or Awake.
"We die.
We die rich with lovers and triumphs,
tastes we have swallowed,
bodies we have entered and swum up like rivers.
Fears we have hidden in"
the english patient

It occured to me that I never put any of my artwork online. This one is called Suleman(like me). A tribute of sorts to my ancestors in the desert. All hand-drawn except the stamp ofcourse.

"I am moved by fancies that are curled
around these images
and cling
the notion of some infinitely gentle
infinitely suffering thing"
All handdrawn save the stamp.
Clickit for details.

Close Shave

Let me tell you about Winds
There is a whirlwind from southern Morrocco, the aajej, against which the fellahin defend themselves with knives. And then there is the harmattan, a red wind, which mariners call the sea of darkness. And red sand from this wind has flown as far as the south coast of England, producing showers so dense they were mistaken for blood.
And the the samoun, which a nation thought was so evil that they declared war on it and marched out against it in full battle dress. Their swords raised.
"My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun"

les Defunts. la Foire. le Beau

Souls. Trade Fair. Beaujolais. Moons.

To the person in the bell jar,
blank and stopped as a dead baby,
the world itself is a bad dream.
again not taken with filter yadayada. i put a jute bag on a lampshade and voila! this was the effect

Put on the red light

just so you know- didnt use a filter on this one. we actually did put on the red light

Come, Mister tally man, tally me banana

Daylight come and me wan' go home

"the real twisting snake is in the mouth"
says random malaysian poet

Due to lack of prior planning and foresight my whoooole trip plan had to be...well....readjusted.
we did end up going to- hampi,gokarna and goa.
great details and fascinating anecdotes will be revealed shortlys. in the meantime pacify yourselves with pictures

Summer is dead.
Languorous days of living in my head
and thinking about the underlying structures of words...

for a while I've been:
conclusion: ENOUGH! I've been off travel mode since may and I can't handle the static. time to go on a little trip.
Destinations: Hampi--Badami--Bijapur--Bombay--Aurangabad--Ajanta,Ellora--Bombay--Goa
Leaving on the 18th back on 29th
wishey me luck

The Age of Kali
These days its getting harder for words to slide down my tongue, slip through my teeth and dance upon the air. So I've decided to let my images reign for a little while (no objections I hope)

"I cannot dance upon my toes"

September 2006

I've come to the conclusion that I want a pet tortoise.
Please suggest names. Its a hard task naming a tortoise. I was thinking Aga Khan. or Suleman (to carry on the family name) or if its a girl Begum something...
Maybe a spanish name (la cucuracha)! or something simple like alfred.
Oh I'm so confused.

Something I'd scribbled on the back of a coaster:

Take me to those woods
(they whisper)
Its all understood
(so kiss her)
Let the rain fall down
(and tease her)
She'll quench your thirst with wine
(you please her)

Aeroplanes and Dragonflies
Purple fruit and canvas skies
Meet the girl with wanton eyes
He has a pocketful of alibis
Like a paper plane made to break the moment it takes off.
Im here. A vase destined to fall.
My words.
They shatter leaking puddles of months old water staining the white floor.

Repetitive cycles, monotonous outcomes..Rereading the book I wrote the ending to.
"Hello" is losing its essense yet "Goodbye" still carries its grief.I see patterns within these blindfolds. I see the stage. I see the act.

Scribble your words until theyre written apparently stateless.
Until they are brittle enough to crumble.
Your drunken words are faceless.
So are mine.
Maps are capable of being excessively strenous to follow. Everystop had sight seeing scenery supplying serenity to my mind but ironically this serenity dwells only temporarily. I'm poisoned in the sense that emotions plague me in injections that are irreversible.
I have a million sweet nothings I'd love to connote to your ears for looking inside me.
He loved her and she loved him
His kisses sucked out her whole past and future or tried to
He had no other appetite
She bit him she gnawed him she sucked
She wanted him complete inside her
Safe and Sure forever and ever
Their little cries fluttered into the curtains
Her eyes wanted nothing to get away
Her looks nailed down his hands his wrists his elbows
He gripped her hard so that life
Should not drag her from that moment
He wanted all future to cease
He wanted to topple with his arms round her
Or everlasting or whatever there was
Her embrace was an immense press
To print him into her bones
His smiles were the garrets of a fairy place
Where the real world would never come
Her smiles were spider bites
So he would lie still till she felt hungry
His word were occupying armies
Her laughs were an assasin's attempts
His looks were bullets daggers of revenge
Her glances were ghosts in the corner with horrible secrets
His whispers were whips and jackboots
Her kisses were lawyers steadily writing
His caresses were the last hooks of a castaway
Her love-tricks were the grinding of locks
And their deep cries crawled over the floors
Like an animal dragging a great trap
His promises were the surgeon's gag
Her promises took the top off his skull
She would get a brooch made of it
His vows pulled out all her sinews
He showed her how to make a love-knot
At the back of her secret drawer
Their screams stuck in the wall
Their heads fell apart into sleep like the two halvesOf a lopped melon,
but love is hard to stop
In their entwined sleep they exchanged arms and legsI
n their dreams their brains took each other hostage
In the morning they wore each other's face
---Ted Hughes