Posted in Photography, Poem

Kangra Fort, Himachal Pradesh

What if I tell you faith and religion didn’t go hand in hand?
What if one was belief and the other a human weaved story?
What if one was creation and the other a mere fantasy?
Dare not answer these questions loud,
But ponder and find out which is which
Or do they even exist?

Posted in Article, Photography, Poem

Colours

They split, they splatter- throwing away a bit of dirt
They tell stories when the days are lonely
Create a few when nights are mundane
They gorge upon the masochist dreams
Speaking while holding hands of the beloved nightmare
They make me cry-
That is when I drift towards something that wasn’t ever seen
And now that couldn’t be unseen.
These- these are my colours,
Fairer than any lover
Leaving me gobsmacked at every inch of canvas that is meant to be imprinted in my skin
They go deep beneath the surface
Not just incidents, they talk of narratives
Narratives that are too speculating to be known-
Even more sad to understand
Devastating to feel

Alas! These are my colours.

Posted in Artwork, Experience, Poem

The Game Called Perception

Thewomanipretendtobe7

I have an eye

A subtle and kind vision

I see through the window

And create my own stories

The gestures- they vary.

But never are they faltered,

It’s an unfair game called – Perception

Calling for chaos and havoc

Because the strengths are yet to be known

And the weak might be what we worship.

No written rules, No guidelines to abide

Yet the world is the jury-

What decisions are to be made?

No one knows

Yet unfailingly they declare the putrid.

 

-Artwork by Aakriti Thakur

-Poem by Ruchi Bhardwaj

Posted in Article, Artwork

Man Into Woman Or The Other Way Round

We are the choices we make. Let it be that way.

Courage. Only a few are able to muster enough of it to put forward their thoughts and desires. RARE- the exact number of people who are brave enough to live their life the way they perceive it. While walking in the streets you’ll come across many aesthetes but none who choose art as a form of reality. Lili Elbe was one such exception. She chose to kill the man he/she was- Einar to be the woman she wanted to be. Probably considered schizophrenic in those days Lili had the fortitude to explore and then stick to her sexual orientation. Oh no! Lili wasn’t gay. She was a ‘she’. Nature made a mistake. Science messed up the chromosomes. Talking of science, it comes with abundant exceptions. We the humans are intersections of science and art, therefore we are supposed to be a little more empathetic and understanding. Sympathy is not needed, empathy is all people wish for.

Einar was a renowned artist who was appreciated worldwide. He had ambitions and success. Lili on the other side had ambitions and a heart along with Einar’s wife Gerda, who loved Einar so much that she let him go and who was liberal enough to support Lili to be the woman of her own dreams. A suspected homosexual, Gerda did not have a career as glorious as that of Einar until she showcased her painting flaunting a woman with the haunting almond shaped eyes as her subject. The woman was Einar dressed in an unusual and unacceptable manner. Strangely, he fell in love with the stockings, the camisole, the corset, the heels and every other bit of it. He further explored what a woman thinks, how she walks, the way she chatters and the way she spreads an aura of elegance. From that point onwards Einar decided to be Lili. The repercussions, both social and medical were hostile. But, Lili had made a choice. Her choice was not ordinary. It had infinite constraints. She was a wreck and her choice was chaotic. Yet! I admire her because we are the choices we make and let it be that way. It’s alright if we want to be whoever or whatever. All we need to do is take a stand of our own and also of people with dwindling trust in their own selves. Just push your boundaries. May be your story won’t be as interesting as Lili’s, but your life is your artwork. Paint it with the colors you choose!

Posted in Artwork, Poem

The Woman I Pretend To Be..

colours and hues.jpg

I pretend to be calm in the ocean of tremors

I pretend to smile listening to the rumors

Trapped in my own colours and countless hues

I pretend as if I don’t know the real you

I keep away from probing-

Scared my  fears shall be affirmed and true

Aware of the apprehensive depths

Alas! the shallows I fear.

Dread it when shallows are deep

And depths no more obscure.

I have nothing to hide; No need to conceal

Yet I pretend to leave behind an aura of mystique.

Drenched in my own thoughts, soaked with imagination

I pretend not to think the queer.

I know it all- Pretend to be a wandering soul

I pretend to stay in one place

When my world had traversed the entire universe.

I pretend to stay quiet

Listening to my own silence when it makes the never ending creaks

And it hums a little song amidst the bleak

My heart filled with music; A tune ever repeating

The same rhythm just different lyrics

I pretend to stay still not dancing to my own epiphany

I pretend, pretend and pretend- a game that never ends

Not to merge, not to camouflage- but an urge to never blend.

-Ruchi Bhardwaj