Recently I drew this picture and wrote this poem –

I smoked a cigarette

And she smoked a cigarette

She smoked a cigarette

And I smoked a cigarette

I smoked a cigarette

And she said – No smoking,

‘cos we ran out of matches.


B. R. Panesar – Passing into Oblivion

What a waste of artistic talent – that too in a medium in which hardly anyone works in India…on B. R. Panesar – collage maker, painter…through memories of his former student Soumadeep Sen.

Panesar (photo courtesy: http://www.artofbengal.com)

Panesar (photo courtesy: Telegraph)


Soumadeep Sen

Soumadeep is a software professional and has spent considerable time delving into the world of fine arts. Currently, he resides in Bangalore with his family and is pursuing his interest in music with a band of his own.  

Fine arts was not one of my areas of interest. Can’t say for certain whether I still understand or perceive it but staying at YMCA, Calcutta – and the constant exposure to people that were naturally gifted to appreciate art, did raise my interest quotient for finer things in life and so I too acquired a taste I must admit.

The initial few months at YMCA were more of getting through the daily chores – it was mostly eat-work-sleep and the cycle seemed to have repeated itself over and over again. With a few exceptions of course, hitting the movie theatres on weekends, listening to music, reading books or the not so exciting…

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Mademoiselle Laocoon

Random drawing (gimped) sort of inspired from Laocoon and his sons and vaguely from Saturn devouring his son though it’s not clear who is devouring whom in this one, or if anybody is devouring anything at all for that matter.

Or, like a friend of mine commented – ‘I really like the Laocoon etc… Tho’ to me it looked like Kali ma first and was wondering why shiv is running away and looking so small!’


Mademoieselle Laocoon

After finishing this I got obsessed with Laocoon for a while and saw these various awesome reproductions based on Laocoon here, here, here and here.

Here is the rough version of the drawing and I in fact prefer this one; the upward face looks more upward-like (it was bit of an effort to get there, and then screwed it up later somehow) and in any case my sense of colour sucks etc.

mademoiselle laocoon unplugged


More probability talks last week. I’m growing to like them! For example the one on alleles, which are like stuff that make people different from each other etc. – pretty cool and all. Who knew math and bio had all these mutual applications and shit!

In many ways the talks are very liberating.

However these are couple of drawings I made during the talk.

when end up having unbiological children


alleles are as individualistic as we come

While uploading this post, I found this sweet website of cartoons on biology – specially this one on alleles. Also, here is a nice cartoon on lethal alleles that I found in a blog post by the warak warak method.


Animal Doodles with the Kid

Mica Angela Hendricks is surely one of the most delightful moms I’ve ever seen. I got hooked to her blog since I came to see this post and have immensely enjoyed every single project she has posted about. And of course what wonderful paintings! I’m a complete fan now.

I mean come on! I’m deprived, okay? Here is a glimpse of my mom for example –

Doesn’t look very friendly, does she? However I wish I could go back and do some such cool projects with her!

busy mockingbird

So we’ve been drawing animals lately, my daughter and I…

speedy turtle-e

After the post about the collaborative illustrations I did with our 4-year old daughter lit up, I was flooded with a ton of wonderful, inspiring ideas from people all over the world. Make some kid ones!  Make some happier ones!  Make one that looks like your daughter!

And we did.  And we had so much fun.  The thing is, when we made them the first time, it’s not something that was very well-planned out.  It happened initially by chance.  It was, as Bob Ross said, a “happy accident.”  We did it for fun, just because it was something we loved to do together.

But sometimes I found myself trying very hard to draw faces that I thought people would like.  As an illustrator, I am VERY comfortable working with other peoples’ ideas.  But when I try too hard on my…

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Merriments in cauldron

Again a few older drawings – based on cauldrons. The first two were originally in colour, but my sense of paint sucks.

cauldron and chinese lanterns

The above was the inception, and here is the aftermath –

my merriment in cauldron

When I was taking my undergraduate courses, the bus from the university to my home passed by a fish market. There, some days when the sellers would have just started packing up for the day, sat a most pretty girl on an upside down cauldron, smiling from ear to ear in the background of the clay platform, fish stink and yellow halogen lights. Her father owned the stall right next to the main road. I used to fight for a window seat everyday just to see her.

Couple of years later, she got married. But she would still come to the market, often replacing her father, selling fish, not smiling any more, looking serious.

Eventually she stopped coming altogether.

I planned many times to get down from the bus and talk to her, but of course I never did.

The cauldron series is dedicated to her.

cauldron, meat and fish


Windmill. But I was also thinking of calling it Mixie grinder blades screw.

This drawing is dedicated to the Dude, who complains, whenever I draw nudes I give them hanging breasts and cheerless tortured faces. Here is a cartoon of cheerful, non-hanging breasted nudes. With the upwardness of the breasts, the general flow of energy in the composition has literally gone against gravity a bit.

The windmill girls are made up like dolls – their nudity protected in plastic shells, playing little children’s games, happy at being pierced and rotated around, looking up to thank the holy brotherhood of heaven for their good fortune. Asaram Bapu would have liked them.

Travelogue 10 – I hate children

When it comes to this particular drawing, my weariness at children is outshadowed by my excitement at having drawn this with real fancy drawing pens, if there is something like that. This is the first production out of my new set of Sakura Pigma Micron pens and I am sufficiently thrilled having possessed one bundle of those – finally making me feel all pro (not to be judged by the quality of the drawing but by the leaps of my heart at uncapping each slick cylinder of ink every single time).

Coming back to the drawing…


Ettupede – for sale

Here goes my freshly made set of four pagemarks based on Ettupede (eight-legged). They are Rs. 15/- each. Since no one is really going to buy, I could have put any price on them of course. But one must be fair even in dreams!


The above is my first-born in this series and my favourite too. Here goes the rest:






















et4-smallIf you can find all the eight limbs in each of the pictures, you possibly get one pagemark free, or may be not!

Travelogue 09 – Yakshagana at ISI Bangalore

My second exposure to Yakshagana at Bangalore ISI at a Math conference – a four hour long performance, of which I sat through the first two and half hours and then left for dinner (which is slightly embarrassing judging by the huge number of people, who stayed for the whole time), but not without a few sketches of the principal villain King Raktajanga ,

the hero – technically a prince, being the son of the murdered king, who ruled before the evil one,  and the pretty princess, who was kidnapped by the prince and eventually married.

Performing “Life and times of Mr S”

Day before, there was a basement 21 book-launch of poet Vivek Narayanan – his second collection of poems named Life and Times of Mr S.  Performing poetry – the event was called.

Listening to poetry is not really my thing. If at all I get something out of a poem – it is like a one-to-one thing. Presence of anyone else, even the poet, feels like an intrusion. So I was just sitting and drawing – intending to make a cartoon out of the whole solemn situation.

The cartoons did not happen – just couple of sketches. The situation kind of grew on me. There were paintings and sculptures comfortably scattered all around and they trespassed into my sketches here and there.

Strangely, I also ended up buying a copy of the book.

The following sketch is that of the Short prayer to sound – performance of a poem from The life and times of Mr S – with Maarten at sax.

short prayer to sound

The recitation was followed by a conversation between the poet and Sharanya Manivannan.

conversation – vivek and sharanya

My sketchbook project 2013

It was a lot of fun working on my Sketchbook project 2013. Wish I had some more time, but it felt great as it is, and I’m already so eager to work on the next one, with little less sloppiness about the participation!

Here goes:



An obsessive’s treasure

An obsessive’s treasure

An obsessive’s treasure

An obsessive’s treasure

An obsessive’s treasure

Fallen angel

Fallen angel

Fallen angel

Fallen angel

Fallen angel

Fallen angel

Fallen angel

Where the evil things are

Where the evil things are

Where the evil things are


Just thrilled at the thought of being part of the travelling exhibition organized at Brooklyn Art Library!


My first formal illustration for a novel (I’m so excited that it’s embarrassing) – and rejected – due to age mismatch between the characters and the real ones in the fiction. So I make a new set for the novel and put it up here instead 🙂

Thanks a ton to author Meera Srikant.

A corporate company employee’s dream regarding her quality manager…

One of Those Brighter Days

I think I have a habit of folding my elbows whenever I am in deep contemplation.

My life these days seem to revolve around my prolonged lower back pain and knee injury. It is not that my body is undergoing a particularly difficult phase due to these mild handicaps, but it is as if my brain has taken them to be vigorous insults on itself. I just went back through some of my old cartoons made during past six months – I simply look obsessed with these anatomical discrepancies.

Incidentally I joined Padmini‘s classes few months back. In the class, my inherent ineptitude, combined with sudden familiar blasts of pain and consequential stupid feelings often result into reveries such as this:


These days I’m meeting a lot of creative people, who strongly believe in ‘alternate ways’ to make this corporatized world a better place via sympathetic collaboration and sharing ideas. Artists, academicians, administrators, administrators, administrators,…., administrators,…

Drawing description: a little frustrated, but nothing serious.

Gods Must Be Bored

These days I’m too busy trying to make myself important and useful (hence hardly any time for drawing), poking my way up through holes here and there in the layers of the professional pyramid, trying to connect and correct and what not. I’m bored.

On the brighter side, I’m still failing – to connect or correct or whatever..

Gods too must be bored, time to time, being constantly made important and useful by the devotees. They also must be in the need of peace, a private space or at least, some cheap entertainment…


Drawn on a holiday.

A Classical Disaster

a classical disaster

Kajri is a form of Indian folk music, often sung by classical and semi classical musicians practicing Hindusthani gharanas.

The word Kajri is possibly a derivative of Kajal – meaning Kohl or Black. In a country of sizzling hot summers – the black monsoon clouds bring with them relief and great joy – with a need to sing out loud. This is the moment for the Kajri to be sung. According to a folk tale of Mirzapur – there was woman called Kajli whose husband was in a distant land. Monsoon arrived and the separation became unbearable….she started crying at the feet of the Kajmal Goddess. These cries took the form of the popular Kajri songs.

Even now, sometimes the dissatisfied soul of that unfortunate woman haunts the practitioners.

I had the opportunity to experience one such disastrous performance of Kajri…

The Revenge of Mara

Mara attempted to tempt with promises of glory and pleasure only to get scornfully rejected by the young ambitious monk, who was clearly well-aware of all the weapons that the King of temptation could have thought of using against him. Mara shrugged helplessly and went on with his old tricks, appearing as a hideous demon and sending an army of likewise revolting and terrible creatures, as he did before many times, and failed once. The demons dutifully launched a volley of arrows at the trainee, but as those projectiles approached they were transformed into flowers and fall harmlessly to the ground – all the while the hideous smile of internal peace never fidgeting away from the boy’s shiny lips (it was not for nothing he was the top student of his monastery). The daughters of Mara, Tanha (craving), Rati (lust) and Arati (discontent) tried to coerce and seduce him, but he, who have had much stricter practice of not being seduced by prettier dames and handsomer men during the more vulnerable time of his life, just kept chanting, sending powerful radiowaves through the fistful of hair on his bulbous head as he turned the prayer wheel in his hand, and then …

The Revenge of Mara

(Drawn on a thin paper with pen and pencil).

Travelogue 06 – Nature’s Call

It was wild boars that were supposed be in the beautiful forest. Every time I walked through it, small rustling sounds of leaves shivering, dead branches falling, a gentle breeze – I thought I was going to see one. The biggest four legged animal that I saw, not considering thousands of mice, was this squirrel. It did not like me much I think. I must have scared it a little. It jumped at a nearby tree within a blink of my eyes, stayed still for a few seconds as if like an outgrowth from the stem. And then went up till it thought it was beyond enough my reach . Sun was setting behind the dark green hills that formed a glorious background of the silhouette of its fluffy brown tail. It looked at me with indifferent contempt, and shat…

Brennender Berg

“Do not follow where the path may lead. Go instead where there is no path and take a dump” – Ralph Weirdo Emerson

Travelogue 05 – Self Flagellation

“Of course, living is another way of killing oneself: its drawback is that it takes so horribly long” -Imre Kertesz

Few days back I visited a new continent.

It was full of friendly angels with halos around their head. I had lunch with them everyday.

I am a boor when it comes to cutlery. Besides I was nervous by the aura of their halos.

The lunch table discussions were often illuminating, but I was busy with my self-flagellation. It can be fun.

Introspecting my sorry and envious soul was as good as visiting a new continent every other day.

Time to time, when others were not looking, I would give it a shot to enhance my non-existent self-confidence.

But all of a sudden the conversation would turn my way, choking me a bit.

Everything was so VERY beautiful there. And I probably had better sleep than I ever had in my life.

Self Flagellation


Wasted Miracle

On Moses‘s plight these days: Once the unmatched commander of the Ten commandments, now pitifully stuck between Pir Aga Khan and St. Peter at a never ending tourney of alternate interchangement of Wine and Water

Drawn with a Cello Pinpoint XS, on the back of a particularly difficult-to-read paper on different myths mingling in an increasingly global culture, where symbol systems and networks of myths are pushed to the edge of chaos where they either transform or collapse (er…).