Monday, November 9, 2009


the real sun is within you it's called Wisdom ,
compassion it's rays and intelligence it's light,
look inside and you would find me.



Long long time ago, there were grey giants with blue faces and moustaches which changed color by seasons, they were cursed to walk eternally, and to never stop. They had been walking for eons, devoid of any sensation or feeling they just walked and walked, until one day one of them stopped. He looked down as the first flower bloomed out of natures womb, he stood mesmerized by this blissful experience, he felt that the joys of life entered his soul once again, he felt alive, he kept looking at the yellow flower, which looked like the rising sun flecked by dew drops.
Others looked at him and paused, they all looked at the flower in bewilderment, the blooming flower never thought he would get such a reception, after all he was the first out of the womb, they all stood still rejoicing the idea that the flower was looking back at them smiling, they have never moved since that time, they became the mountains.

(Chronicles of the eternal yak: 02)

My trip to Ladakh was more like visiting an ancestor who's on his way to leave this mortal journey, all I intended, to the best of my patience,was to listen to the vibe of his life, the stories of wisdom he possesses.

Rustic and physically enduring the place had a temperament of a story teller, each rock and grain had a story embedded in it, the faces of the old world still smiling through those clouds which seem to be shimmering and scattered like pearls around the cobalt blue sky.

As much as you embrace the landscape you can't ignore the change taking place there, the trucks coughing thick black smoke and murky spots growing around the place where it'll be hard to distinguish plants from polythene wrappers, swamps of our own greed have engulfed nature enough and one day it'll eat us too.

Change is a positive entity, if one embraces it like that, if Earth is an organism and if we all are connected by an eternal force, why isn't this the premise of our plans, by not acknowledging this fact we are just making our future more bleak. If change is inevitable, one has to examine the possibilities of a optimistic future by looking back and noticing these wonderful ways of co existense, man wasn't born without a role , he was the voice of nature, the one who will sing it's song, lost and forgotten this voice is caged in the void of pretense and one day it'll diminish.

If nature has a consciousness, it's us, and that's what one should attempt through his endeavors,to intend to connect with a tree as much as you connect with a friend , to draw what it really says will a sketch worth while, and sometimes when you are listening closely, the wind will whisper the muted tales of love and change.

All the sketches presented here are incidental to my trip, I just wanted to go there and not be tempted by the idea of drawing what I see but rather absorb the ambience and inculcate patience,observe!, a place devoid of sky scrappers , most of the time I dwelled in the vastness of the place finding hidden clues to stories

As I made any of these silly sketches they made me look deeper, they were my gateways to a world unknown to a digi cam, monasteries, monks, mystic deities were all sources of deep philosophies and stories, though I shot many photographs to understand the representational quality of the place , the clicked form of experience assured me of how the real geography looked like.

Drawing in lines and washes of color gave an emotional motive to my trip; I did not get any time to do more detailed stuff. As we walked and trekked mountains, I did not get more then a few minutes to draw, and sometime later at night I would give them a color wash while my memory is fresh of the location.

There are people who find their voice through a view finder and some who sing to express , some who walk from place to place telling tales , some who just read a book about Buddhist psychology sitting in a cafe, some who volunteer for work with the locals, the one's who have become hermits in their two years of continuous travel, some out of their college exploring the world. I met them all, and I had great conversations, I am inspired to travel more and find more stories.

One dinner we guys were sitting on the terrace of a lovely home stay in one of the villages, watching the sky sprayed with innumerable stars, shinning bright, staring along my friend asked, “Have you ever seen so many stars before?”
And I said, only in my dreams.