Memories of My Native Place

CATS

Cover Page

Durga Reawakened

Drawings for my graphic novel "Durga Reawakened" going to be published on 10/10/10
Text by: Shamit Bagchi, IIM, Bangalore
Illustration: Mahan J Dutta

Silent Wish

All of us carry a baggage of memories, regrets, desires and wishes. With these entire luggages we climb a mountain; a mountain of faith that has been growing since the beginning of mankind. Its pinnacle reaches beyond the sky. We cannot see it. But we have grown up with the myth which is stronger than real, that there is a wishing tree which would listen to everyone. Does the tree have ears? We never knew. But we believe it has.
Through ages so much of luggage has been buried into the ear of that tree! We start slogging up in the mountain. All we want is someone who would listen to us, to whom we can tell all our secrets... A place where we can shed all our guilt, regrets, sins and the burden of memories. All we wish is to fly away...

Illustration Friday: Breakfast

Portrait

After a long time I revisited Vermeer's Girl with a Pearl Earring and was inspired to paint a portrait. It is an imaginary portrait. It is entirely painted on Photoshop.

Pierson Pally in Santiniketan

Every day we used to go out to different places for sketching and outdoor study. This is a study work of a village in Santiniketan.

A Moment with You

Like the way we sit sometime
Faceing each other
Like the way a tree of silence
Grows with each breath...

Jump

POEM

What a great invoking of darkness
I have enamoured.
The magical riverside, where you stand waiting
Delicate yet mysterious your breast
And the crescent moon is eager to see them...

I want to bathe you with darkness.
Your sorrow forlorn the night
Grieves of the ages reflects on your face
And the stars float in the dream

This is the secret hymn of love in void
I have kept you as a prayer in darkness.

Eyedrops

Conversation

What is there to regret?
In my thresh wrecked hut
There was never a door, nor a window.
You walked in,
Took a seat,
Resting your head on my shoulder
You sang a song,
Your tears wetted my violin.
And very quietly...

As if we told a fairy tale to each other
With pure intimacy.

the Ancient Stones

And…
Like the night, falls an ancient stone ;
Rolling across the villages and the valleys.
Spreading its roots at the threshold of a temple,
The temple of sun and the gods of all arts.
Erecting the majestic gateway of civilization…

The ships of Babylon are anchored there
Brought by the wings of the flying cranes
A murmuring crowd steps up on the stone.

A multitude of men
With bag full of words;
Crowd in the markets
Dealing in bustling tales

The world shrivels up into the womb,
And devoured into Mayadevi’s dream
Where moaning are condensed into a fossil

On the ends of my fingers
Numerous eyes have sprouted like grass
Running them through, I can see
Manuscripts of Dilbar Dosai

Embracing the towering pillars
That reach beyond the sky
I hear the Yakshi of Sanchi,
And her melodious lullaby.

Extending my palms I gather
Rain drops on plantain leaves.
A fear of the wilderness
Advancing like a mighty stream
Instilled by the monsoons

Lumps of flesh
From my heart
Crumble into the flowing stream
And the wide field is devastated
Where the bones of my ancestors germinates

My love and earth…
For numerous time I have lost my memory
And from the crux of the stone
I have excavated repetitively /insistently/persistently
Hanging them all around
I create the art of the primitives.

Here, it’s all yours, everything I leave behind
My eyes, my voice, my hands.
Piling one on another you will build
Palace, bridge, dam, roads and harbor

With your touch you will see
The faint tune from far
In a kiss you will find the abandoned road
Covered with tall grass.