A Sketch A Day

Making memories

All the buds and flowers that I pick up
get crammed into one space occasionally
Each day some new elements
Are picked 
and
The old,
Discarded
Together they form 
An assorted album
Of beautiful memories

Fruitless Pursuit

One half-eaten pomegranate fruit
Greed for taste
Plucked in haste
Thrown as waste
I thought
Birds knew better
Than us…

A Morning of Leisure

Mornings are so beautiful!
Surrounded as one is
With pencils pens colours
Fallen flowers and leaves
Articles to read
It’s a gym for the mind and hands
Deciphering colour and form
Line and light
And of course,
The chai helps, so much!

Free Floating Joy

Amidst the complexities
Of life
I try to keep things simple…
A morning walk
No small talk
Eyes on the road
Searching
The debris
Of a tree
That’s shed
It’s petal load..

Morning walk treasures

I don’t have to look far
For inspiration
Sometimes,
It lies by my ked-clad feet
At other time
It circles
Leisurely
From the sky
Petals, Feathers, seeds
Bidding adieu
To their tree….
Finding refuge
In my sketchbook and me…

Of Words And Visuals

I open my journal to write my thoughts.

The lines, instead of falling into a neat cursive hand, elongate themselves into birds and flowers and animals… It’s like my language is finding a different story… It’s not interested in what happened yesterday, or other long drawn out tales of living, like a good journal should be.

It is more interested in what fills my heart.

I question its timing… Like, can’t you wait till I get better paper… Better pens… A well-thought out composition? But it doesn’t care… So a scene pops up on ruled paper, I know it’s not going anywhere, I know it’ll stay within the folds of this diary to be forgotten soon, like the hundreds of others that have pushed the words out of the way and grabbed hold of the visuals… Quite like an erstwhile Charlie Chaplin movie.

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