Of People and Places

Plein Air He slowly packed up his brushes, misshapen paint tubes,rolled up his paintings,  slung his heavy bag on his shoulders and left. And as he walked, the landscape followed. It kept following him, unwilling to let him go, until all that was left of it..... was the painting.  This idea was sparked by a workshop of Prashant Miranda's that I attended ( at the Neev literature fest 2019) . It was interesting and I had a fantastic time looking at all his sketches, especially his travel sketchbooks.  His delightful travel illustrations really carry a sense of place and transport you.  I found it enchanting that he paints every watercolor from the water he finds in the place he visits - so it is like a piece of the landscape that has seeped into his sketchbook :)  This post is also dedicated to amazing artists whose plein air watercolors have inspired me - Bhargavkumar Kulkarni, Sadhu Aliyur, Kangkan Das, Milind Mulick, Prash...

It was pitch dark outside. From time to time, she peered out hoping that my father would be home soon. Summers in Koppa meant power cuts and power cuts meant letting in the deep darkness of the jungle inside the house. The noises outside became louder as the night wore on. Strange shadows lurked in places the candlelight couldn't reach.  The crickets let out their call. The silence that descends heavily and suddenly at night in the villages surrounded the house. Unlike Mumbai, where silence is a chimera and darkness is a mere memory of the womb. Moths flickered around the candlelight. She tried to go back to reading her book, but all she could think of was her fear. The fear that gripped her every evening, until my father's bike could be heard from the distance, its powerful sound announcing him before he had reached the village. She always kept a heavy stick and a powerful hunting torch close to her in the evenings. Outside, very close to the door, s...