The Man Outside The Station: Portrait of an artist as an old man

A splash of green
                 A daub of black
A hair line brilliant red
                 A generous throw of blue

My eyes inspect as
my fingers move
relentlessly over
the naked earth

coarse, dark skin over
rough, dry land
creating art or
may be an illusion/imagery
which holds their eyes for

a    f  l  e  e  t  i  n  g     m  o  m  e n t.

A metallic tingle follows!

Another coin

The price of my art
The price of another loaf

The 'Shiva' finally emerges-half of him
combined with another 'half'-'Shakti'
The perfect union
Yin and Yang
'Ardhnareshwar'
pacific yet fiery, charcoal with vermilion
and cheap industrial colours-
my resources!

Someone claps from behind
more tinkles follow
Someone bends down and
hands over a piece of paper
(the piece de resistance)
taps on my frail shoulder and
wipes his hand (a moment later)
of germs, dust and
possible contagious
m i s f o r t u ne

In another hour they would be all

g
o
n
e

and new commuters will replace

n e w   f a c e s

The continuous rumble of trains will go on
a constant companion
and there would be dogs.
(outcast, sober and skeletal beings-regulars!)

at night my daughter would wake up
and fetch some food-

s t a l e    c u r ry        and           b r e a d

and we would munch on alongside

t
h
e canines

all social lepers, unfortunate ones

I might then smoke my chillum
to ease the throbbing pain
(cheap weed from Nepal-my painkiller-my vacation)

and I would crawl away to the pavement
to take my place besides my daughter,
another silent

s
p
e
c
t
a
t
o
r

cursed even before she was brought forth(Misery)

The moon would dance and rise over the sky
and a majestic tapestry of reality and illusion
(All could be attributed to the dust green weed!)

I don't ponder or reminisce -from years of practice
I just watch and I use my eyes-like kaleidoscopes,
looking at the world, taking cues for the next day
may be a skeleton over a burning globe-

t h e       f u t u r e     o f    u s ?

or may be a bright crimson monkey god-'

Hanuman

displaying his lords like

'caged birds'(prized medals)

Four hours of work followed
by another two of calligraphy
as I would write the myths-
created by and for
us

followed by my own misery-
my stumps
my daughter's
i n a d e q u a c y

my daily life-
the toiling of a hard day
and the higher revenue
and then the vacation
at night
from reality-
from gloom and

t
h
e formations

      i n    m y  
 
 m
 i
 n
 d

of a design
   a shape
   a structure for art-

on sale
on demand

for the pangs
for the recreation
for some currency notes

I am no artist
I am no celebrity
I don't have a certain
n i c h e   a u d i e n c e'

I am a legless man
a sufferer
an escapist
a 'father'(pained smile)

I am destiny's (illegitimate) child
society's celebrity leprosy!

It would be another day

s o o n

more curious faces!
more hunger
more throbbing

     harder sun and
even harder gazes!

from someone

e
v
a
luating


m y  w o r k-

if worthy of a

one
r
u
p
e
e coin.
 
 
 
*An experiment