When?

When did I learn to look and why?
How far did I learn to see and how much farther have I wandered?
Have I found rest in the seas and their vastness
or in the depth of the winds?
Have I looked deep enough into faces with a million stories?
Have I felt at one with the tiny stir of a new born leaf?

When did I learn to pause while I look and why?
How long do I pause and how silent am I?
When did this sorrow and this joy seep into me?
How long have I been looking?

When did the mountains stop growing!

When did the earth stop changing!

Wondering still!

Quite often I wonder at my obsession with visuals. It is a strange kind of obsession, almost negligible in its necessity and yet very pronounced in its impact. From cracked and textured walls that I notice while walking down streets to the brilliant blue of a kingfisher, visuals leave me with diverse stories. Some stories grow within me and transform my perceptions, some stories stay with me and delve into my silences. Sometimes I wonder how I would construct my world if I were visually impaired.

Infact music has left me searching for strange lands, deep within myself. What would I have visualised if I had never been able to hear. Very often i hunt for music that touches me most and in exchange I find lines, strokes, colours, words, illustrations, paintings , dancers. Then, when I hear a piece of music it has a whole new meaning, a whole new world. It has perhaps taken me a long while to figure out this whole sense of integration of the human body with life around it.

When one is aware of one world, another world awakens by itself and with each little gesture, the whole earth stirs...

Where I search for visuals, how strange! I always end up finding poetry...