I don’t know how to end this article, maybe I’ll like to leave it in the middle, like all our lives are right now.
I have read so many authors since my childhood, seen so many movies of the last one century, came across so many art works as a student of Humanities but never ever I had this extent of admiration for any artist.
Did it ‘hurl headlong’? Milton? I peep in, it’s a deep pit, never ending and there they are, walking in Circles. Dante?
It feels like a process which has been going on much before my birth. This imbalanced development of the concrete.
I question myself if the concept of Bangles is Binding. And the answer, I guess is very complicated.
Take a look at the pictures of the North-Indian festival Chhath from the ghats of the holy Ganga at Varanasi.
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What Kanhari am I talking about? A hill in my town Hazaribagh(India) in whose vicinity I grew up. These pictures take the lead in talking to you, while I muse lightly,sitting on the edge. I have no plan to tell you how inclined you will be towards Nature if you grow up in its Green,…
The farther I lay my eyes, it’s the hills I see, the quieter I become, it’s her rape I hear.
If a place touches Fame you’ll have a set conventions for a traveller there, and it becomes a challenge to break free from that and look at it from a new angle.