Diving into the Cosmic Ocean

Your being is just like the sea. Seemingly endless, inconceivably deep, and merging into the larger Oceans of the Cosmos. The waves might seem perilous from the shores, especially in the monsoon of life, when they rise and fall like giants, crushing even the hardest stone, creating a beach flooded by the sands of time. So awesome and powerful is the tide, that one cant help but quiver as it threatens to engulf everything in its tidal pandemonium. But the sea of the self, merges into the Ocean of the Cosmos, and only those that dare to dive into its depths realize the tranquility that sits in its infinite depths. Down here, it churns the entire ocean using warm and cool currents, sustaining all of existence. It passifies even the massive fires that sprout from the belly of the Earth, transforming it into lands that flourish and resonate with life.

In its dark tranquil depths, it performs the divine dance of creation that stimulates and vibrates all particles into the cosmos. Whales sing with ecstasy as they dive into its depths, diving deeper and longer each time, always returning for more, for another taste of its divine bliss. For the whales were once creatures of the land, but their wisdom helped them transcend the chaotic waves of the stormy sea, as they marched through evolution towards the call they heard so longingly for centuries, rising from the depths within. Now they dwell for ever, in the infinite depths, surfing its currents, drunk on its nectar, singing songs of bliss that resonate for hundreds of miles.

The hardest part for us standing at shore, is to over come the fear of these treacherous waves. But the seasons of life change, and one day, you will stand at the calm shores of realization. In that moment, fear not the impressions of the stormy past. Walk boldly and fearlessly into it as the sea gently washes your feet with its ebb and flow, saluting the divinity that dwells within you; inviting you to come and taste its sweetness. Embrace it like you would your long lost lover, for even the rage of an angry Earth melts at the compassionate embrace of love. Such is the power of love. For love seeks not to conquer; but to embrace, and merge; all into one, one into all, and that is the nature of the Universe itself.

The Future of Visual Arts

In the world of Visual Art, we are standing atop a cliff, over looking a sea of infinite possibilities, but we are too overwhelmed by our inability to see beyond the horizon of what we already know. Still firmly rooted in the past, like in other walks of life, we are unable to let go of what we're so used to. The future awaits, seducing us to make the plunge and dive in and begin our tireless swim to the shore of infinite possibilities.

All is changing as painting, photography, film, animation, architecture, the performing arts and science & technology are becoming more and more integrated, blurring the lines that divide us, erasing titles and previous notions. To all the traditionalists who question the integrity and quality of these new media as Art, i say "F**k you and your myopic vision!" The canvas of creation dwells far beyond the realms of oil, acrylic and gouache, and cannot be comprehended by the bulging egos of artists, critics and gallery owners. The process of creation and the creation itself is all that matters. Even artists are just an expression of the  collective consciousness, so there is no need to put oneself on a pedestal.

The works of art of the future will talk, move, touch and feel. They will jump with joy, squeal in agony and radiate with bliss that will slide into the experience of the viewer. The future works of art will not just be heard, seen and touched, they will be felt, within. The wall between the viewer and the creation will collapse and combine the observer with the observed. People will take home with them in their minds, more than just a mere sensory experience, and the need to ask the creator "what does this mean?" or "what are you trying to say?" will vanish. Art of the future will go beyond the need for words and commentary to supplement for lack of creative expressiveness.

But, will we accept these changes? Will we make the plunge, and begin our long swim towards the new shore? Or will we continue to splash in the ponds of what we shat out so long ago?

Only time will tell, but for some reason that i can't quite put my finger on, i'm feeling rather optimistic.

Numbers

Numbers are the trignometry through which we understand the arithmetic of life.Numbers are important to:
the mathematician- lost in the struggle to code the universe,
the astrologer who maps the movements of the celestials,
the stock broker who has had to sell his house, car and even his wife,
and the gambler who lives by the roll of the dice.
The only true number is Zero, which is greater even than infinity.

Karma Yogi Series: Red light Vigilante

Morena, Madhya pradesh

September 2010 Courtesy: Harmony, The Magazine

The sickly old woman came running across the courtyard of the dilapidated dwelling, and began to sob. “I am suffering netaji. You are our only hope. There is no money, only news of a pension and my health is getting worse!” She prostrated before him, as if he were some kind of a God, and continued to lament at his feet. He comforts her, reassuring her that things will be better. The Netaji, the woman was lamenting to is Ramsnehi. A tireless vigilante, who has been rescuing women and young girls from the evil of prostitution in the region since 1952.

Ramsnehi, was born to a farmer in 1933 of the Bedia community, in the notorious Chambal district, famous for dacoits, prostitution and drug trafficking. Since the time of the Mogul Empire, prostitution has been the Bedia’s traditional occupation, after which they have fallen down the ladder of high society, from catering to the zamindars and now even truck drivers. The women have been the breadwinners, while the men are lazy drunks who pimp them. Snehi’s first real experience and understanding came when he visited his aunt, a prostitute, in Meerut, in 1953. The apathy he witnessed amongst the women of his community moved him so much, that he vowed to devote his life to abolish the flesh trade from within his community. So acute was the problem, that till 1957, no bedia had married, as it was strictly forbidden within the community, and girls were ceremoniously initiated into prostitution as soon as they hit puberty. Those who refused were forced into it, and the often streets echoed with the screams of young girls as they were beaten up for not earning their allotted quota for the day or refusing to solicit clients. A Bedia soliciting truck drivers on the highway earns any where between 15-50 rupees a customer, while those who’s relatives are more ambitious are sent to Metros such as Mumbai, Kolkata and Delhi, and from there on, the girls are often sold in the Gulf and other parts of the world. “All these women are my mothers, daughters and sisters. How could I just watch all this and do nothing?”

The Game

From the most awesome love making you've had in you're life time, or being stuck in traffic for an hour and a half or the death of a loved one, its all a scam. Maya. An illusion. a view of the world that you you are projecting onto your self, and the people and things around you. Its all a game. And in this game, there are no winners, no loosers. Just the game and the players. Even those, pretending to sit on the sidelines, without any interest or concern, are playing the game. Their role, in a reel of infinite takes and retakes and retakes. And much like bollywood, we dance, sing, cry, scorn. But in this film, we each can take up what ever role we want. You can choose to play the Hero, and i the villian that tries to slay you or the hot goddess of love that you've come to encounter after many life times of being apart. Whether you slay me, or make love to me, dosen't matter. But it also matters, coz the way you slay me, or make love to me, is how you will be slain or made love to in another movie, on another set, maybe in some other galaxy. At the end of it, we all pack up and call it a day, moving on to another set, another role, another set of characters, another world.

But illusion does not necessarily mean no fun. You can use you're illusions to make you're world what ever you want it to be. Whether its being King of Tumbak Tu, or driving a Ferrari with a hot blonde in the passenger seat, groaning all along the drive coz she's dying to navigate you're dick right into her pit lane; or simply inventing a eco friendly substitute for paper world wide. You can choose what you want to do. But myfriend, it is now that i ask you the question, do you think you know what you want. If yes, go ahead, satisfy that desire. That and the countless others that come you're way, for In the dominoe of your desires, will the pattern of reality unfold, and the meaning of truth will assimilate into you. A desire that pinches the mind is way better satiated than shoved under the carpet. But, whether you feel good about your self depends on how pure that attempt to satisfy that desire is. For all desire is pure. It is the darkness that works behind the scenes, so that we may bathe in light. for we are all the light, projected by the darkness into itself.

The Game- 2

It is i who plays the game

that moves that moves through

this oblique spheroid

chess board and beyond it.

i am the rook

the bishop, the queen

and i am the king

who sacrifices the pawn

that is also me.

i am the black

and the white.

i make the rules

that i follow,

and it is i who breaks them.

i am the looser and the winner

but i can never loose,

for i am the game.

Orange meets purple

to explode into an infinite spectra of transmuting colours

that rain upon my mind,

washing away all that was, is and will be,

revealing the blackness that shines through

the very fabric of everything.

I awake in an amaranthine chamber of emptiness

that is so harmoniously full.

In here, there isn't even the sound of silence.

सवेरा

आएगा

Black Label

Just the other day, Raju the businessman saw an open manhole on the street right outside his home. It was stolen under the snoozfull watch of the two watchmen of the buildings on either side of the manhole. They work 3 eight hour shifts a day at less than 1500 rupees a month, and expecting them to do anything other than opening the gate after they are awoken (often violently) is being too optimistic. To out smart the thieves, the BMC has resorted to layering manhole covers across the city, with tar. But we all know who's smarter. The manholes go missing in spite of this stupefying idea.

Frustrated, and concerned for his children, Raju the businessman decided to make "theft proof" manholes. An advanced yet very basic and cheap solution, that allows BMC to safely cover these portals to Mumbai's choked underworld, without worrying about them disappearing. But as he began to dream about the profits of such a long term, lucrative contract with the Government, he ran into the catch. There has to be a catch! That is an essential part all the brilliant ideas of our reality.

"Over my dead body, will i work for the government!" he grumbled. "I’ll never be happy. These babus are the worst type of clients.

Let’s assume i fill the tender.

The BMC will then invite more contractors to bid for the same project. Mine is the cheapest, most efficient, environment friendly and viable solution. Yet i will never receive the contract. They will pick the 3rd or 4th highest bidder.

Why?

Because his bid is inflated, taking into account, their bribe.

Say, it’s a 10 crore project. They will demand 7-10% for allotting the contract.
I, with my lowest bid, will not be able to provide any sort of "Gift Hamper".

Fuckers used to drink tharra! Now they're too used to their daily doze of scotch.

But... even the fellow who bags the contract is screwed. No one can be happy doing business with babus. The bottom line with them is "mere ko kya milenga?"

This contractor will now struggle. He pays taxes as per government regulations. He even pays tax on the bribe money! He's running a completely legitimate business (barring the bribe of course). Yet, even after that, he looses 10% to these babus.

So where will he get the 10% from? He's working to make money after all!

He'll use substandard material, and delay the project, so he can capitalize on inflation, and make more money.

I tell you, we should all just stop bidding for government tenders.

NO ONE!

Not a single firm should pitch for anything!

Let the allotted money for all projects rot with the government. It’s our money after all, and it’s not going anywhere.

Let’s see how these madarchods they pay for their Black Label then!"

Sabse Khatarnaak

Mehnat ki loot sabse khatarnaak nahi hoti,

Police ki maar sabse khatarnaak nahi hoti,

Gaddari, Lobh ki mutthi sabse khatarnaak nahi hoti.

Baithe Bithaye pakde jaana bura to hai,

Sehmi si chhup mein jakde jaana bura to hai,

Par sabse khatarnaak nahi hota.

Sabse Khatarnaak hota hai murda shaanti se bhar jaana,

Na hona tadap ka, sab kuch sehan kar jaana,

Ghar se nikalna kaam par, aur kaam se lautkar ghar aana,

Sabse khatarnaak hota hai,

Hamare sapno ka mar jaana.

                                       -Pash (A Punjabi Revolutionary poet)

Living in the womb of time

Living in the womb of time, 

is like sitting in a rickshaw. 

You just tell the driver where you want to go

and everything around you changes.

You reach where you're at,

without moving at all. 

????

all is nothing

nothing is everything 

everything is nothing

everything is everything

nothing is nothing. 

The Ghosts of Ballard Pier

To my non existent lover II

From all that there is give

and all thats left to take,

There is nothing i can offer,

nothing i can stake my claim on.

So i wander in this pneumatic world.

trying to make sense of it, one day at a time. 

But time is incompetent,

and there has to be a better way of measuring 

our existence.   

What can we measure, really?

Nothing.

We cant even measure nothing. 

so who am i

to measure how much you love me.

i must now let go

and dive into this nothing.

For there is nothing i can offer

and nobody i can stake my claim on.

not even you. 

To my non existent Lover

I dance at your finger tip,

to the music of your eyes,

giving and giving up

all that i have.

what worries me is that i do not want nor ask for anything in return.

i smile as you scorn and fret

breaking down the blocks of my being

to the last decimal. 

there is nothing to forgive

and all is forgotten.

I must be your pet,

that sleeps by your side ,

waiting for your command

at which i release and withhold my lust,

faithfully, truthfully. 

You say you love me more than i can imagine,

but i can only imagine

for it never manifests on your tongue, your lips, your hips. 

so i faithfully watch,

as my invisible lust,

ravages through your non existent body.

They say i'm your mistress,

but i must be your pet.

A mistress after all is the baron of secret affection,

and not the guardian of trust. 

The Great beyond

Angels fallen from above

plummeting into the sea of delusion.

Broken wings born from a broken will

lost in the shallow waters of infinity.

Close your eyes and look into the darkness

there you shall see

there u shall free yourself

from yourself.

Call upon your brothers and sisters

drowning from within in the wetless ocean of creation.

Let your cry resonate

through the gyration of the earth,

there you shall find each other.

together you will drink the sea of delusion.

Rise my friend,

for you shall never fall from grace.

The time has come,

to rise from the undertow

And embrace the great beyond!

Each day i climb the mountain of joy

to plant my ego at the summit. 

The earth trembles as i bellow victoriously,

only to bury me in an avalanche of the disparity of my being. 

As i tunnel through the snow it melts

into a whirlpool of thoughts,

funneling faster than the speed of light

i'm sucked into the wormwhole of existence

and ejaculated into the tranquil waters of the Ocean of realization.

i swim through fractions of its infinite depth

only to surface to the perception of my breath.

Behold! Another mountain

another summit.

Untitled

12 clove cigarettes, 4 pegs of mediocre whisky,

A twenty four year old virgin,

And someone else's fiancee.

" The only way to get rid of temptation

is to yield to it."

At the shores of the cosmos,

its so much easier to bathe

in a puddle of maya.

So, i open the Pandora's box

and unravel the secrets of the universe

one puff of ganja at a time.

Some one's always waiting somewhere

and there's always time for one more.

after all, cosmic contemplations

are much more important than worldly chores.

With one foot on the earth

and the other in my mouth,

i parade my ignorance

in a desperate attempt to open my third eye.

But i see with my eyes

smell with my nose

and fuck with my dick.

Boobies!!!

shoe polish on handmadepaper

2.5ft x 3.5 ft (approx)