tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53597673458365099982024-03-13T17:18:43.925+05:30Thats why...Nupurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15484992028941739578noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5359767345836509998.post-19578394210107360972012-12-16T19:00:00.003+05:302012-12-16T19:00:31.850+05:30Dusty melancholic roars….<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: #141414; color: white; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Dusty melancholic roars….</span><span style="color: white; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
<span style="background: #141414;">Coming from the very core….</span><br />
<span style="background: #141414;">Fleeting of a long gone soundless thunder…</span><br />
<span style="background: #141414;">A last left piece of the blue sky peeping from a
corner,</span><br />
<span style="background: #141414;">Attempting to make its presence felt amongst the
dark clouds…</span><br />
<span style="background: #141414;">Brownish green leaves relentlessly clinging to the
trees…</span><br />
<span style="background: #141414;">Tiny birds gathering all their strength to fly
against the wind…</span><br />
<span style="background: #141414;">All this stage show… without a drop of water</span><br />
<span style="background: #141414;">It reminded me of something…</span><br />
<span style="background: #141414;">As if a part of me was on display…</span></span></div>
<br />Nupurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15484992028941739578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5359767345836509998.post-80137367524295820402012-01-25T00:35:00.000+05:302012-01-25T00:35:04.625+05:30<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 28px;">अधून मधून पण अगदी नियमित पणे असे दिवस उजडतात, ज्यात आजूबाजूला घडणाऱ्या गोष्टी आणि आपल्यामध्ये एक अदृश्य, त्रासदायक अंतर जन्म घेत. खुपदा कॉम्पुटर्स, वर्चुअल गप्पा, बिलं आणि रोज उगवणाऱ्या नवीन नवीन इच्छांच्या गदारोळात हा बदल आपली निब्बरता छेदु शकत नाई... पण थोडं थांबलं, टेकेडी वर शांत बसला कि त्या अंतराची भयाणता जाणवायला लागते.. मेजर गोंधळ तेव्हा होतो ना जेव्हा हि गोष्ट अगदी गुरुत्वाकर्षणा सारखी matter of factly घेतात सगळे... पण नकोय मला असा! Detachment चा काहीतरी messed up अर्थ लावतोय ना आपण सगळे? शेवेटी हे सगळा का? छान नोकऱ्या, visiting cards वरती मस्त वाटणार्या पदव्या, कपाटामध्ये तुमच्या बुद्धिमत्तेचा दाखला देणारी पुस्तकं, Parties मध्ये उगाच telecom ministry नि कसा घोळ घातलाय यावर चर्र्वीचारण या सगळ्या मध्ये मी दुसर्या व्यक्तीशी खरी खरी कधी बोलू , मी होऊन? (in progress)</span></span>Nupurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15484992028941739578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5359767345836509998.post-18960049950040947932011-07-12T19:22:00.002+05:302011-09-13T20:33:18.924+05:30melting away<div class="MsoNormal">Then she ran… ran like no one could catch her…</div><div class="MsoNormal">Her limbs gradually got numb </div><div class="MsoNormal">like a drop of ink steadily painting the water…</div><div class="MsoNormal">all she could sense was sweat dripping from her forehead…</div><div class="MsoNormal">it was chilled for some reason… she figured, she has turned into a block of ice…</div><div class="MsoNormal">and then laughed, “I am running aren’t I”</div><div class="MsoNormal">she ran faster… “Left leg after right, left leg after right”… flashbacks of instructions in school…</div><div class="MsoNormal">(She never liked those anyways)</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Oh the pleasing wind!” </div><div class="MsoNormal">Trees, houses, dogs and cows passed one after the other….</div><div class="MsoNormal">Few thoughts too…</div><div class="MsoNormal">And she wondered how strong she had gotten; the sweat wasn’t accompanied by exhaustion… </div><div class="MsoNormal">that cheered her up, but the smile didn't come easy… </div><div class="MsoNormal">As if stapled to something… or worse, frozen…</div><div class="MsoNormal">She let out a silly, unaware glance at her feet…</div><div class="MsoNormal">And a chill ran through… (an already present one)</div><div class="MsoNormal">A puddle of water, fused into filth… and some traces of her old existence… </div><div class="MsoNormal">She discovered the sweat, the chill, the running to be something completely different… </div><div class="MsoNormal">A bundle of randomness welded together… that what she recognized as “self” before,</div><div class="MsoNormal">melted into a pool of nothingness… one drop at a time….</div>Nupurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15484992028941739578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5359767345836509998.post-70721734342664750082011-01-20T16:45:00.002+05:302011-01-24T19:01:04.713+05:30Mirror! Mirror!<div class="MsoNormal">I walk with a limp in the empty rooms…</div><div class="MsoNormal">the rooms that never seemed so massive before…</div><div class="MsoNormal">The cold <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">kota</st1:city></st1:place> floors cut through me like a sharp knife…</div><div class="MsoNormal">Or may be it’s the chill of my own feet….</div><div class="MsoNormal">the chill that I used to cover with thick layers of wool…</div><div class="MsoNormal">But somehow it doesn’t hurt that much…not anymore…</div><div class="MsoNormal">I can see the tall, pretty mirror from the other end of the house…</div><div class="MsoNormal">There are walls between… but strategically placed… precisely exposing the mirror…</div><div class="MsoNormal">I can even see the tiny carvings of rose buds on all four corners… </div><div class="MsoNormal">But then I looked where I was supposed to…</div><div class="MsoNormal">Right in the eye… and saw distorted fragments of my replica…</div><div class="MsoNormal">Seemed even more crafted and made up than the carvings….</div><div class="MsoNormal">It didn’t smile… but didn’t seem there were ever any tears either…</div><div class="MsoNormal">An unaffected mannequin…. </div><div class="MsoNormal">With no traces of what was lying inside… as if absent….</div><div class="MsoNormal">Finally I track back the trail of numbness… right there… someplace inside the imitation…</div><div class="MsoNormal">And although I noticed freckles of pain… left behind clinging to the real… </div><div class="MsoNormal">Those too were proficiently buried… right under the shiny layers of mercury….<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qisgnVrdUZ4/TT1_CTMWnII/AAAAAAAAAwM/_eu6pQg1UZY/s1600/aonr_dia_09_15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qisgnVrdUZ4/TT1_CTMWnII/AAAAAAAAAwM/_eu6pQg1UZY/s200/aonr_dia_09_15.jpg" width="190" /></a></div><br />
</div>Nupurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15484992028941739578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5359767345836509998.post-21318905194540706982011-01-19T09:56:00.001+05:302011-01-19T09:56:02.921+05:30<div class="MsoNormal">All I wish is to go back to those shores…</div><div class="MsoNormal">Where the newly born waves would take birth in my lap…</div><div class="MsoNormal">And mistake me for their mother…</div><div class="MsoNormal">Stare at me with utmost affection… which fools me too…</div><div class="MsoNormal">Sitting on those dark, rocky borders…</div><div class="MsoNormal">the bliss doesn’t overwhelm me… as I don’t fear it will disappear…</div><div class="MsoNormal">Its there to stay… oh I am sure!</div>Nupurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15484992028941739578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5359767345836509998.post-77392309916911106282011-01-09T23:46:00.001+05:302012-12-20T21:43:07.025+05:30<div class="MsoNormal">
The shivering of astonish…. senses numbing… and recollection of the long gone trail of occurrences….</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The stomach gets caught up in a permanent churn… dragging your heart lower and lower…..</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I stand right under the sun… hoping for the pessimist in me to evaporate… the sun gives nothing but the heat…..</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I secretly wish for a greater burn…. That will turn me down to ashes…. Feeling ashamed of crying over a headache…. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I see no solidness…. Waving my hands in the air… like a lunatic…. trying to get hold of the doorknob… so that it opens…. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My heart attempts to gather all the pain I have and hopes it’s greater than the one I see in you…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I can see and know…. Really know…. As I don’t as yet….</div>
Nupurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15484992028941739578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5359767345836509998.post-36758464197821370202010-12-10T16:25:00.003+05:302011-01-16T09:26:52.418+05:30<div class="MsoNormal">Sitting by the window at pitch dark AMs…..<br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Being fully aware of her non consequential existence …..<br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">A part of her wants to question…. <br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Attempts to get angry with the help of the word ‘Why’….<br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But the other part… the more prominent one knows…. <br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">That this ‘why’ is as non consequential as she is….</div>Nupurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15484992028941739578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5359767345836509998.post-77554237921569858762010-11-20T00:37:00.000+05:302010-11-20T14:15:33.630+05:30Pondicherry: The French Connection<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">After the details of my <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Pondicherry</st1:place></st1:city> trip begin to fade a little, I come out of my extreme laziness and finally decide to write about it. I open the word document on my computer and wait endlessly, slightly brushing my fingers against the keyboard waiting for the flow of thoughts to arrive.</p><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qisgnVrdUZ4/TObLe-DyR_I/AAAAAAAAAts/u4lKTF50sQA/s200/_MG_7584.JPG" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5541340124441364466" /> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>As I try to put myself in the past days, I realize how much I miss Pondi. And moreover how much I miss the way I was there. As if a different person. That’s the funny thing about traveling. You end up doing things that you wouldn’t normally do in your day to day life. Not that they are in any way drastic or extreme. In fact the most basic things. But somehow you end up being judgmental about yourself when you are in your own town. Thinking unconsciously about the gazing eye of an outsider. Where as in traveling, the eye almost magically losses its prominence. You somehow just learn to be!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The journey began on the most beautiful note. As I catch the <st1:time hour="5" minute="30" st="on">5.30 am</st1:time> plane cursing the odd timing, I look out of the window and witness the most spectacular sight. The sun was gently coming out of the fluffy golden clouds. Like an extremely humble king. Illuminating the slightest corner of the sky along the way. It’s reflection on the blue water which isn’t blue anymore but just sparkling blonde. My heart is filled with bliss. I considered it a good omen and closed my eyes only to open it when the airhostess announced that we are in Chennai.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>I came out of the tiny airport and hired a prepaid taxi. I looked desperately for my assigned driver, soon to actually realize that I am in whole new world. Rough looking men speaking an alien language which sounded kind of funny but did not fail to intimidate me. I dint let it show on my face and finally got hold of the driver. The hour long journey to the bus depot began. It was so damn interesting to see the colourfull Chennai from my taxi window. I felt like a kid in a candy store. I have never seen so many gaudy colours together yet making a spectacular sight. There were a few movie theatres I came across on the way with huge Rajanikant posters with even more elaborate garlands. Suddenly all the Rajanikant jokes viraling for the past few days seemed realistic. Walls painted with portraits of politicians, women wearing bright saris and the beautifully glowing dark skin with the smile on their faces, brought one on mine too.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>You know what? I wouldn’t want to talk about my bus journey from Chennai to Pondi… because it was far from good. people squished together with the hot sun marching in from the window and Completely alien words dashing the ears. As if the clock had just stopped and made me believe that I will never reach Pondi. No matter how much I try to put it into the category of an “experience”, sorry! That does not in any way make me feel good about it! </p> <p class="MsoNormal">But the good times were not too far. I finally reached my modest place of accommodation called the “The International Guest house” which is the Arabindo Ashram initiative with very cheap rates and a decent, spat clean room. I freshened up and sat on the wooden bed with white sheets. Wondering where have I come? With a hint of fear poking me from within, what am I going to do alone? For eight freaking days? Is it going to be as good as I imagined? And my sane voice replied without delay, “don’t worry, it always does!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>My exhaustion and insanity were both almost vanished after I woke up from a small nap. I washed my face, got dressed, tucked my newly bought aviator glares in my collar and got out. To begin with I went to the Arabindo Ashram which is just a 5 minutes walk from IGH. A beautifully quiet place with the most comforting vibe. Much smaller than I expected but falling nowhere short in beauty and magnificence. There a nice old man showed me around the place and gave me a few guidelines for my stay. The first thing you need to do is get the Ashram map along with the usual <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Pondicherry</st1:city></st1:place> city map. It helps great deal with chalking out what you want to do. As I came out feeling nice and inspired, I just started walking aimlessly taking any turn basing purely on impulse. Checking out various book stores, shops along the way. Examining each building, creating compositions in my head, I kept walking. The sun was on the verge of setting I could see the beach now. Amazing! I walked towards the Gandhi statue. Most fortunately I see that a classical dance performance of artists across the globe was about to start. It was a beautiful open air theater right next to the sea. The wind was blowing my hair as if giving me company, welcoming me to this wonderful town. I sat there observing the foreigners. Although the performance was above average and failed to truly move me,<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>its stunning setting against the sea and the creative lighting made the whole experience worth while. Giving me assurance that this was a beginning of an incredible voyage.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>The “starving me” desperately looked for a place to eat. I soon found this tiny beachside café. Le café! And oh I was charmed! I was charmed by the modest beauty, the monochromatic photos on the wall, the arches looking at the sea outside and of course, an exquisite cup of Cappuccino! I sit there reading Kamala Das, getting inspired by the brilliance of this woman’s literary capacities. As I hear the clashing dark waves of the night sea, this pleasing sense of accomplishment filled my heart. I had landed!;</p><p class="MsoNormal">Waking up in the morning was not much of a problem. In any case I would get back to my room quite early in the night considering the in time for the guest house was <st1:time hour="22" minute="30" st="on">10.30pm</st1:time>. And I must admit I too was a little extra careful since I was traveling alone and all that was responsible for me was well… me! I would sit in my room reading, meditating or watching comforting chick flicks on my laptop laughing at the contradiction. A cute little lady with multiple piercings in her nose and ears would knock on my door every morning till I wake up and ask me whether I wanted tea or coffee? My response remained the same for all eight days, No, thank you! But yet she repeated the inquiry with equal zeal and smile every morning. At times, when I wanted to sleep some more, it would get a little annoying but yet by the end of the trip I had grown very fond of her.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">My day mostly consisted of roaming around on the bike that I had hired. Arguing with the bike rental guy I realized, bargaining in an unfamiliar language can be equal fun! First couple of days with the food were exciting. French bread, sandwiches, salads… seemed all good! But by the fourth or fifth meal my body demanded some real food! I couldn’t even look at the cold, ruthless well formed piece of bread! I asked everyone…. The bookstore owners, waiters of the same French cafes, everyone! I even tried eating at the Ashram taking their one day pass… Its extremely cheap (20Rs for one day pass consisting breakfast, lunch and dinner) and serves basic yet good, nutritious food if you are willing to stand in the queue for a while. But I knew I wont be able to do this often… I just can’t eat so much rice! And finally I found this blissful little place called Surguru.. or was it Sadguru? I couldn’t even pronounce the name, yet it lovingly served me yummy Indian food for all my remaining days. Turned out, it was quite a popular joint and a lot of people vouch for its quality. Anyone who is visiting Pondi, this is the place for their regular nourishing meals. It was here that I met Lauren, Ariel and Shannon. These really warm American girls who were traveling around the world as a part of their ‘International relations’ study program. We hit it off right away and I had a great time interacting with them. It was so much fun making them eat chatanis, Dosas, Malai kofta and nervously waiting for their reactions. I can be considered guilty of showing off our yummy Indian food. But I was glad they liked it too. I often find it interesting to interact with people from foreign lands. And thing what I find most exciting? Similarities more than differences!</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Sakhi Visited me on the weekend and it was a much needed relief to see a familiar face. We had a lot of catching up to do. One thing we both were really looking forward to, was an amazing meal at <st1:stockticker st="on">NCC</st1:stockticker>. (The new creation cafe) It’s a pizza joint run by an Italian man which serves the most exquisite, authentic Italian food. The wood burning ovens right in front of you, Italian men and women serving you, add a tint of glamour to the experience. There is one thing that never fails to amaze me about us. We can have the most serious discussions about corrupt politics, complexities of art, feminism, pseudo intellectuals and without our notice with the utmost ease we switch to Gucci, Gossip girl, vogue and makeup… I love how we keep going back and forth with this… seamlessly…. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">So after a lot and lot of food we moved on to our favorite task! Taking pictures! Way too many of them. Such pictures somehow give the feeling of a chocolate cookie after dinner. You are done but there is still something to look forward to. A few hundred pictures, great meals and millions of words later I finally had to say goodbye to sakhi. which made me kind of sad and also made me realize that I will be saying goodbye to Pondi soon. I was awfully quiet that day. Driving back to the guest house I was looking around at the vivid coloured walls…. nonchalant lanes…. and was left with only one feeling… a desire to soak it all!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The night of 25<sup>th</sup> Oct, the one before I was about to start my journey back home, I was sitting…. once again on the pristine white sheets…. without any active, dominating thoughts but a muddle of varied emotions… most of it very pleasant…. I remembered the whole Arabindo Ashram family and their warm, encouraging presence…. the multiple discussions I had with them about artistic appreciation, honesty of expression. How I see myself, the world around me ….the validation of the quest to find a deeper value of life…and finally a few highlighted words…. “No one comes to <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Pondicherry</st1:city></st1:place> if they aren’t meant to be” it all appeared in my mind aligned in perfect composition… I didn’t even feel the need to put it all together and make sense of it… it all felt right!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">As I crosschecked my packed bags and tried to clean the remaining with an effort to put the room to its original self I noticed that my mind seemed empty…blank…. I instinctively touched the wooden, carved legs of my bed…. The little rack where I used to keep my cell phone… the desk where I sat late in the night writing random thoughts….I laughed at my foolishness…. A week isn’t a healthy period to get attached to nonliving things…. But somehow I allowed myself to be foolish that day… said goodbye to the bed, the floors, the desk and the white sheets… locked the door and hanged the key of room number 3 on the glass key holder at the reception area…. One last time!</p><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qisgnVrdUZ4/TObLrvVycfI/AAAAAAAAAt0/4wXNG4tOLnM/s200/_MG_7493.JPG" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 128px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5541340343828640242" />Nupurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15484992028941739578noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5359767345836509998.post-58045745410673431672010-08-22T19:27:00.000+05:302010-09-01T09:55:14.249+05:30Interview with Mr. Devdatta Padekar<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qisgnVrdUZ4/THEvVECy4YI/AAAAAAAAAo0/aBy8qdyxJGE/s1600/spring+III.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 159px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qisgnVrdUZ4/THEvVECy4YI/AAAAAAAAAo0/aBy8qdyxJGE/s320/spring+III.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508235858160050562" /></a><br />PUBLISHED IN CITADEL(MAGNA PUBLICATION) AUGUST2010<br /><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">In today’s career driven generation how few are the young minds who go after their dreams and really make it big. We chatted up with one of the brightest star on the art horizon of <st1:place st="on"><st1:country-region st="on">India</st1:country-region></st1:place>. 30 year old Devdatta Padekar is modesty personified. Not once could you make out that the person so mater of factly talking to you about his art is acclaimed and admired all over the world for his artistic brilliance. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>When asked about what is his artistic inspiration, Devdatta candidly replied “there is no fixed criterion to what I paint. There are so many things that I see around me that enter my work through unconscious ways, something that I didn’t even intend in the first place” he recalls an incident, recently after he came back from Italy he noticed a beautiful tree near his house had been chopped down during his absence. He says that even this unpleasant feeling that he gets, influences his work in more than one ways. Talking about the world art scenario shifting from representational to abstract, Devdatta’s views on it are very balanced. According to him the movement of</p><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qisgnVrdUZ4/THEvUbVGz8I/AAAAAAAAAok/SEXkbeTFIO8/s320/_MG_4898hjgh.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508235847231000514" /><p class="MsoNormal"> representational vs abstract will never cease to exist in the art world. As world progresses new experiments with art will keep taking place but the representational art form will never loose its place. “I see every form of art. </p><p class="MsoNormal">I may not like it but there could be a germ in it that may appeal to me” </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">So how do your parents who too are brilliant artists affect your style of work? “we have different studios. We may comment on each other’s work, we discuss about it, we may criticize it at times but it doesn’t affect either of our styles. Its very distinct from each other” explains Devdatta. “There has to be someone who leads you to your path, my parents played that role for me but after that it’s the individual artist’s responsibility to go deep into the subject.” </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Here comes the critical question…. Who are the artists that inspire you?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>“The list is unending. Right from renaissance to the impressionists, may it be Michelangelo or a quality new artist. The compositions, the brushwork, I am inspired by several things ” he stresses on the fact that no matter what field, one should always appreciate what is go</p><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qisgnVrdUZ4/THEvUj2nuTI/AAAAAAAAAos/PzXE2fnUWMQ/s320/a+straight+line+300.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 138px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508235849519053106" /><p class="MsoNormal">od. “When I look at art, I don’t care whether the artist is famous or unknown, rich or poor, young or old… it’s the art that matters not the artist”.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Devdatta loves traveling to different places. “New places give you a different perspective on life. It makes you rethink which helps broadening my vision towards art and life in general! While talking about the future of art in <st1:place st="on"><st1:country-region st="on">India</st1:country-region></st1:place> , the unprejudiced artist agrees that anywhere in the world, there is a blend of senior and a new breed of artists. The combination takes places only where the art could flourish and nurture. And that’s what matters the most. He sees this symphony in pune too. “The era of restricted art groups and specific art age is gone. Everything would be a blend of individual voices”.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>On the fact that there are no great art colleges in pune, Devdatta confesses, “If there is no one to help you down your path, you need to make your own way. Ultimately it’s the artist’s own interaction with himself that gives birth to art”. “We can’t forget that some of world’s greatest artists are self taught.” smiles Devdatta.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Devdatta finds pune as crowded and chaotic as Mumbai. “Chaos does not inspire me” Devdatta admits. But there are several of great artists in pune with a nice influx of young and senior ones which gives hope to the art scenario.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>The brief conversation with this artist ends up making you feel inspired. At such young age, an Indian artist holding exhibitions from Mumbai, to <st1:city st="on">Delhi</st1:city> and recently in <st1:place st="on"><st1:country-region st="on">Italy</st1:country-region></st1:place> is a matter of pride for all of us. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Nupurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15484992028941739578noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5359767345836509998.post-82327724586772016332009-10-28T14:30:00.001+05:302010-12-21T12:30:57.688+05:30For people I have lost... and for people I would never want to loose...<span class="Apple-style-span">Relationships can be so fragile! I can’t believe how dependant I am on my relationships. They give me something that nothing else in the world can. I love my people… well who doesn’t? but when I look back today and ask myself what is it that I remember the most and how do I see myself in future… the answer would be with my people. People I love the most! It’s almost unhealthy sometimes to what extent I can go to save a relationship. Ending up in realization that sometimes no amount of effort can change things or in fact get the changed things back to as they were before. Sometimes you loose friends and you have no idea why. I can’t help but mourn over such incidents. Wondering what went wrong. Wishing I would have just kept quiet or questioning my obsessive compulsion to be “honest”… why is it that everything has to reach a conclusion or given a name to? Why do we have to put some name tag on people and then we get peace. As if in a morgue with a dead name hanging to its owners big toe. No matter how angry or sad or agitated I get at times, I can’t deny the amount of happiness I got from my friends which make the little patches of tough times worth the pain.<br />
Call me negative or whatever but a thought suddenly struck me today, this uncertainty that life comes with, what if I never get to tell my friends how much they mean to me? And the vital role they played in my life at different points of time. I can’t die without telling my friends that they are awesome! I might have hated them, loved them a little more than others, lied to them, cried because of them, blamed them for no reason but when I look at the picture as a whole, I see an amazing painting… varied colors coming together and making a masterpiece. And yes, this is the last time I will be using painting as an analogy...<br />
There is no misunderstanding you can’t come over, no amount of discomfort you can’t ease out. Ya… life will go on even if we loose a few people. Seems like an affordable deal for that matter. But I refuse to believe we replace vacant spaces, we just create new keeping the empty ones bare and blank!<br />
And ff course in a while I will come over this emotional lapse and find everything written above brainless and stupid. But before it happens I would like to say this to people I lost recently and people I would never want to loose, You matter!</span>Nupurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15484992028941739578noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5359767345836509998.post-4659322624277116672009-10-26T11:03:00.001+05:302010-09-01T09:18:24.108+05:30And how at the end of the day you can’t resist the greed to try and make sense of things. How you thought things would turn out and they dint, how you seek approval which you shouldn’t have, how something hurt you which was senseless, the smiles, smirks, anger, neglect… and we obsessively try to make a balance sheet out of it, hoping that somehow it will all come together & magically turn sensible. Several times its not even “you” you are dealing with… the greed increases… you want it all to make sense to others… you Want them to call your expression ‘art’, like you for the reasons you like yourself, say things that sound good… and the senses on your body start exerting positivity… you don’t know why this feels so good… things don’t need to make sense anymore.. You are walking two feet above the ground… a thought knocks at t back of your head... “Just a second, wasn’t I trying to make sense… Did I? ” you relentlessly shut that disobedient thought out… I’m already feeling so good… I don’t need to! The process of growing up becomes faster… you imagine it’s because you shut down… you want to grow up even faster… want to know everything there is… and moreover want people to know you do! Dates on the calendar change in hasty speed… and you never realize when the line putting “you” apart from “others” looses its existence.Nupurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15484992028941739578noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5359767345836509998.post-70895933034551816842009-10-19T19:51:00.001+05:302009-10-19T19:51:58.218+05:30I just realized how everyday we wake up to “face” the day. As if we are going on to fight some war. We nag about the situation we are in and if we belong to one of the “refined” groups we try to rationalize everything. Finding reasons to know why we are what we are and how we can not be what we are and be what we never were but always wish we were. Huff! Exhausting even saying the words isn’t it? But this is what we do every day and night. I often wonder how much do we really own? How much we really know and how much can we really control? It seems safer to know as much as possible, gather most we can under our wings but to what extent is it going to change things? Are we forgetting to fly?<br /> The emphasis of the Indian scriptures and philosophers on ‘detachment’ always puzzled me. How can everyone in the world turn into saints and legends with no desires? Or may be while we obsess over the apparent, we fail to read between the lines. The truth! Imagine your beloved bike broke. The mechanic declared that nothing could be done and suggested you to take it to a scrapping centre. How angered and devastated would you feel? You would forget all about how you toured around the whole city, the places it took you and all the happiness you accumulated over the years hit the nil sum, even adding a few minuses. Foolish isn’t it? The brilliance of the word “detachment” suddenly hit me. Every sorrow, disappointment and anxiety comes down to this very point. Fear of loosing makes it all worst. A mind free from all such fears can give you an immense feeling of a liberated self. And of course- happiness! Well… still wondering… lets see...Nupurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15484992028941739578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5359767345836509998.post-5891769057840799002009-08-18T18:46:00.001+05:302011-07-13T23:35:02.507+05:30How do you deal with the superficialities around when you yourself are a part of it? I am really fed up of constantly trying to be something and I hardly notice it. There are really tiny gaps you get once in a day or weeks or may b months where you can just be yourself. I feel extremely claustrophobic when the distances between these gaps increase. I don’t want to make myself a subject constantly being examined under my own microscope. I don’t want to think twice before saying which movie I loved or hated. Don’t want to read the words again and again before putting something on my blog, don’t want to look into the mirror before I go out. It’s quite possible that this phase may last for a very brief period or there is a slim possibility for me to last in this complex jungle of social relationships.Nupurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15484992028941739578noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5359767345836509998.post-18279952783518932882009-06-17T16:01:00.000+05:302009-06-17T16:06:49.845+05:30<span style="font-size:130%;">It so happens that most of the times people are dead-on about spotting the flaws in us. But the reason for our resistance or anger is something else. We are agitated at the fact that how can this person see an error in my behavior and can’t see that he does the same mistake? And also… more importantly, our realization that same is the case with us!</span>Nupurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15484992028941739578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5359767345836509998.post-73525205216807238352009-06-01T10:09:00.000+05:302009-06-06T17:30:30.937+05:30Nupurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15484992028941739578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5359767345836509998.post-7753823964307760482009-05-09T14:01:00.000+05:302009-05-09T14:02:33.052+05:30<span style="font-size:130%;">what are we running from....<br />what are we running towards.....<br />or are we just.... Running?</span>Nupurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15484992028941739578noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5359767345836509998.post-9574107369633044632009-05-04T12:12:00.001+05:302009-05-04T12:12:38.239+05:30<span style="font-size:130%;">It’s ironic how false ideas of morality drag us down to a level where we forget the basics like honesty, compassion and fail to empathize with another person on a human level…</span>Nupurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15484992028941739578noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5359767345836509998.post-42849830882670484922009-05-02T19:46:00.000+05:302009-05-02T22:56:55.243+05:30<span style="font-size:130%;">आज माझे डोळे जरा वेगळेच दिसताएत...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">आरसा तर तोच आहे कदाचीत...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">सोनेरी किनारीचा उभट गोल...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">आरसा आणि ओळखीचा तसा काही संबंध नव्हेच म्हणा...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">गुणधर्मच असतो आरश्याचा तो...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">जवळ येताना साफ़ होत जाणारं चित्र...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">पण अंतर अगदीच संपलं तर विस्कंटून जातं मात्र...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">डोळ्यावर वारंवार पाणी मारलं हो... </span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">पण पटंतच नाहिए ओळख...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">काजळ लावायचं राहुन गेला असेल कदाचीत...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">पण आठवणींच्या ज्योतीलगत निरंतर जळणारी काजळी होतीच की...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">असो.... होतं म्हणे असं कधी कधी...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">होतही असेल...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">आकाशातले पक्षी नाही.. पण पायाखालंची जमिन बघुनंही </span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">चालावं लागतच बरयाचदा...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">चालायचंय...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">ओळखीचं काय आहे... पटेल कधीतरी...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">डोळे मिटल्यावर बहुदा...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span>Nupurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15484992028941739578noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5359767345836509998.post-4090679970804113102009-03-27T09:59:00.000+05:302009-06-01T10:12:11.275+05:30<span style="font-size:130%;">नभातील तारयांचा प्रकाश<br />मनात सामावून घेतला...<br /><br />दुर जरी असंला तरी<br />प्रत्येक तारा ओळखीचा वाटला...<br /><br />बरंच काही निसटून गेलंय<br />तूटणारया तारयाप्रमाणे...<br /><br />पण अजुनही आभाळ भरलय तारयांनी...<br />अजुनही उरलय खरे जिणे....</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">(Written in 2006)</span>Nupurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15484992028941739578noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5359767345836509998.post-59445360739874242402009-03-27T09:37:00.000+05:302009-03-27T09:41:14.982+05:30<span style="font-size:130%;">नसलेलही वाटतं असल्यासारखं...<br />मनात खोलवर दाटल्यासारखं...<br />वाटांपल्याड लोटल्यासारखं...<br />शिस्तीबाहेरचं सगळं....</span>Nupurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15484992028941739578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5359767345836509998.post-26762140392151457912009-03-17T09:36:00.001+05:302009-04-04T10:06:10.232+05:30<span style="font-size:130%;">As a random discharge of instinct I checked the dictionary meaning of the word ‘Destiny’. It defined it as the ultimate agency that predetermines the course of events. While I closed the window and moved on to my next task, I couldn’t help but wonder is that so? And if it is, why do we always fail to realize its role unless in retrospect. Any form of fiction may it be movies or books, somehow represent a world of destined realities and moments of serendipity. And if we ideally assume that fiction is an offshoot of reality, why in reality, we always need a validation for our beliefs? There comes the question of belief without evidence. In today’s day and world the everyday insecurity has made us so desperate to find answers to questions, reasons for problems and evidences for beliefs that whatever fails to fit into our logical reasoning, we immediately eliminate. If logic and proof is this important then why is the concept of God still alive? Centuries have lived with it and billions and trillions in fact uncountable number of people have lived and died with the same belief. Were they wrong for believing so? Or is it that sometimes more than documented facts and captured truth, the indications of your very own senses feel so much real and close to your being.</span>Nupurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15484992028941739578noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5359767345836509998.post-37795416427768204292009-02-08T22:03:00.001+05:302010-07-29T00:11:25.255+05:30<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">A couple of days back I saw this film called ‘As good as it gets’ staring Jack Nicholson. As brilliantly good as it is, one of the dialogs in the film especially struck my mind. Greg Kinnear who is playing an Artist in the movie says to his portrait model, “When you look at someone long enough, you can see the humanity in them”. A beautiful ornamentation of words! But how much truth is there in it? Can you really see through a person?<br />This reminds me of a discussion I had with one of my friends who is an artist himself. He was talking about how an artist likes to observe people and over the period of time gains an expertise over noticing the nuances in the individuals walking around him. How a slightest change in the crease of your eye or an arch of your back represents who you are as a person. So isn’t it a possibility that whenever we talk about getting negative or positive vibes from people, we are secretly observing certain physical traits and making a judgment of which may be even we aren’t aware of while an expert is just aware of it! </span>Nupurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15484992028941739578noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5359767345836509998.post-79077146667976525202009-01-10T20:55:00.000+05:302009-01-10T20:57:44.996+05:30Looking through the rock solid glass window<br /><br />Bolted from inside… I struggle to find the keys<br /><br />I am a part of their world but I can’t let them in…<br /><br />They say, look at you… you are jumping with joy!<br /><br />I say these are just my futile attempts to stay off the blazing ground<br /><br />They say you are sleeping on the bed of roses…<br /><br />I say, the bright red Colour is camouflaging the thorns<br /><br />They say look at the stunning beauty around you and see our ever cheery faces...<br /><br />I say, can I please close my eyes?<br /><br />They say write something to please our mind, draw something to please our eyes, sing something to please our ears<br /><br />I say, here is my life… choose whatever delights you<br /><br />They say, hey you looser, don’t submit to what others think... You understand?<br /><br />I get down on my knees, bow my head and say, yes I do.Nupurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15484992028941739578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5359767345836509998.post-56800334088983598972008-12-05T19:21:00.000+05:302008-12-05T19:30:40.962+05:30<span style="font-size:130%;">शिळी झालीएत आता चितेवरची फुलं...<br />श्रदधांजली आणि भिंतींवरचे फोटो...<br />शिळी नाही ना होउ शकत अशी अंत:करणातली धसधस...<br />रात्र झालीए आता...<br />आणि युगभरात गोठलेलं रक्त आग लावुन जाळायचय...<br />पण जंगलात वणवाही नकोय...<br />पोळतील हात..<br />आणि उरेल फ़क्त राख...<br />एक दिवा हवाय उब देण्यासाठी...<br />एक ज्योत हविए अंधार फ़ोडण्यासाठी....</span>Nupurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15484992028941739578noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5359767345836509998.post-66673334254004811112008-12-05T11:28:00.000+05:302008-12-05T11:35:03.627+05:30<span style="font-size:130%;">स्वप्नं,<br />दु:ख,<br />आशा,<br />आकांक्षा,<br />प्रेम,<br />माया,<br />आनंद,<br />स्वार्थ,<br />ईर्शा,<br />क्रांती,<br />द्वेश,<br />राग,<br />कला,<br />मत्सर,<br />हाव,<br />अंधार.....<br />आणि मी पेन खाली ठेवलं...</span>Nupurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15484992028941739578noreply@blogger.com0