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My paintings🦋

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You are the paint brush.
Paint is your efforts.
The painting is your life.
Dear painter!
Please Paint your life well.

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I'm a painting,
Satan made,
When he mixed his hues,
Within me.

And when I let you,
Draw your lips,
On my skin,
And breathe.

It was to show him,
That his art,
Can be remodeled,
And made beautiful.

You make me beautiful, love.
Stay.
And never leave again.

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"Flying scarf &
dripping sprinkles"
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Holding lamp in the
ocean of starts..
While boating in
The gulf of fireflies,
A magical light of
million little pieces,
to ignite the soul of
Wonder in the universe
of mystry....
A blazing blanket
all around me,
Boat full of sprinkles poetess
wants to spread all over
Flowers of lines,
Petals of dream,
Branches of happiness,
Ignited glow of flame,
Flying little wishes,
And smile of energy
Illuminating through
Glittered path...

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For days and nights,
He portrayed her face on canvas.
And when the real one became unfamiliar..
Paintbrush was blamed.

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My mother is an artist at heart whether it is origami-making or homemaking. For years, she hasn't just made oil paintings but also our lives possible. I say this not because she's a mother but because she was once the only earning member of the family. The concept of head of the family seems twisted in such times.

She's a woman who's an expert at drawing murals, warli, madhubani, portraits, landscapes, sketches and other paintings in all color media possible.

As time progressed, regressive homemaking and money-making for seemingly depressed souls took a toll on her health. Her eyes don't support paintings or art work that require precision.

Even today, I see her living her art in a way least expected. Spoons are dried every morning on the kitchen slab in shapes of different leaves, structures, crisscross and what not.

"Art keeps an artist going."

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