From my photo junction

“In nature, light creates the color. In the picture, color creates the light”. Hans Hofmann

Photo by stockresearch52
“In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks”. John Muir
“There are no lines in nature, only areas of colour, one against another”. Edouard Manet
Photo by stockresearch52
“Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.” Lao Tzu

Stunning stone carvings…That is…. Srimushnam… Bhu Varaha Swamy temple

I love heritage, art, culture and history. In the beginning of this week I visited a small village town known as Srimushnam in  the southern part of Tamil Nadu state of India.

The place provides multiple perspectives. You find new tunes in the  engraved old stunning music stone  pillar carvings and paintings. One could learn the richness of Hindu history, mythology,music ,dance,unity,relationships in the environment.

Images for 72 bhartnatyam positions……….. are carved on stones at the entrance gate and in other places of the temple premises.

It is really classic and I don’t have words to express its beauty,science and knowledge content.

Most striking special feature of this temple architectural beauty attracted me the most is ,beautiful sculptures with women’s plait of the hair done on granite stones  are very natural.  some of the stunning carvings( pictures) published here speaks oceans of knowledge and engineering skill prevalent in the history of those days.

A visit to the spot will make you realize that you need thousand eyes and good heart to appreciate multiple perspectives hidden in  more than one thousand years of history of this geography.






(As Varaha, Vishnu likes to eat korai kizhangu. Therefore, a sweet dish (laddu) made from korai kizhangu) Expand  above picture.)logolicious_20180928_121627



serene smile

photo by stockresearch52
(photo by stockresearch52-sketch by artist            Venkataraman)



You  are serene.

You are my blossoming buds.

Your smile speaks

the language Of Mona Lisa.

Your  radiance lit my life.

Your attire speaks best of

your beautiful smile.

My eyes zoom to  catch

in your smile and in expressive dimples,

the delight of colorful spring.

You are always in my

canvas of thought and mind.

You are the silent  verse  of  god’s prayers.

You are the perfect truth

circle of an artist impression.

Your innocence dimple  expression

speaks volumes of artist’s triumph.

You carry in you

rainbow of  emotions.

You add bliss to my life.

Your smile sings

the truth of wisdom

Without words and tune.

What Next

photo by stockresearch52
photo by stockresearch52


Today in silence I hear my memory. As a boy often I was a dreamer, player and sports person. I was delighted to learn cycling and motor bikes. I wrote my thoughts on a note-book. I had a lamp nearby.

Today I just crossed six decades plus of my life’s journey. I have not forgotten my cycling. Today I was riding in my bicycle and slowly recollecting my thoughts. I closed my eyes for a moment and I thought loudly how one cannot orphan their old thoughts and memories.

Over my grooming years I bottled my desires and watched hope to sail. I had a solid education and employment and clean habits taught by my beloved parents. I never borrowed a penny in my life from any one. I believed firmly in self growth and sustenance. I only mastered the art of saving and spending when it is needed and hate indulgences. I have everything today. I travelled across the globe. As the year walks on I learnt that happiness is hard work and hard work is happiness.

I tirelessly worked for the family members, helped friends and relatives whenever possible. I know gratitude from one’s near and dear and blessings from elders and other well wishers don’t come in silver boxes with golden keys.

No matter how hard and sincere you work and execute your responsibilities the weeds still keep growing and nurturing your memories.

My life’s calendar now looks like it has been machine-gunned with only reminders, rebut and no gratitude’s. I never envisaged having to undergo several times. The trauma continues and the injury is slowly recuperating. I don’t mind it. I try ignoring it. My memory fails to fade. It is very strange. I am not an expert on art of living to experience the art of forgetting the past through cosmic yoga, driving away the cosmic ‘Maya” and stuff like that.

Over the past one month, there have been times when I’ve been gripped by an inexplicable thoughts and recollections ranging from milestone life achievements and to breach of trusts by the near and dear ones.

I am in search of the art of forgetting the past. Something must be done or past thoughts would spiral and will grow ever bigger and end up as a tornado of self-pity and would reappear near a house of some poor unsuspecting witch. Even if I resist my age of sixty plus, in my head, I’ll never have to recollect those bittersweet experiences ever again. No day dreams!

Definitely my thoughts are not fitting in to the stuff like ‘The Golden Compass ‘by Philip Pullman  ,  that falls easily into the YA-fantasy bucket or Like Cornelia Funke’s The Thief Lord and J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series it was all written for young adults but definitely  enjoys a large crossover adult following known for its stuff of myth and legend. My thoughts are neither myths nor legends. It is near factual.

I innocently look into the blue sky through my balcony where some plants are captured in earthen pots curbing their freedom to grow naturally. I don’t believe in nurturing plants in pots depriving their normal growth with freedom for someone’s cheap pleasure. I am no more interested in cakes and cards. I just want to forget the immediate past and the distance past, all in one go.

I know it is pretty hard in life to know which bridge of thought to cross and which to burn. Can I fondly question that is it all there in the unwritten book on life by our society?

I would like to enjoy and watch through my bed room window a solitary grey cloud overhead and birds flying freely with their wings wide open. I heard people saying that magic spells supposedly break at midnight, but I wonder whether it may or may not be today in my case.

Hoping against hope I go to sleep by listening to the soft notes of Carnatic music from my neighborhoods and recollecting what would be next as my cycle logo wears it boldly. That is, what NEXT!  Can we say then without fear or favor that memories don’t find orphan homes and you have to live with it till your death?