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Whencut Goddamn Classics
Acrylics on Canvas
Paintings are for Sale
Available
Price on Request
Pratima Pulls the Plug
Acrylic on Canvas, 36” X 48”, 2021 (Price on Request)
Pratima pulled over the car and it seemed like she had seen a ghost. She was bewildered. She reversed the car in fast motioned and rammed the car right into the house – as though you’d watched in an action movie. She was seen walking out coolly in slo-mo, and lighting a cigarette while the house burned into flames in the background.
Pratima pulled over the car and it seemed like she had seen a ghost. She was bewildered. She reversed the car in fast motioned and rammed the car right into the house – as though you’d watched in an action movie. She was seen walking out coolly in slo-mo, and lighting a cigarette while the house burned into flames in the background.
Inner Kali
Acrylic on Canvas, 24” X 36”, 2019 (Price on Request)
There is an Inner Kali hidden within each one of us
Once she awakens, she steers past all her demons,
All the prejudices people abreast onto her
Her eyes opened deep inward…
There was enlightening stimulation
She became whole again.
When she opened her eyes she became conscious of world of make belief,
She chose awareness.
To police her energy
Never to give away her foresight
Honor her identity,
One that was created by her.
There is an Inner Kali hidden within each one of us
Once she awakens, she steers past all her demons,
All the prejudices people abreast onto her
Her eyes opened deep inward…
There was enlightening stimulation
She became whole again.
When she opened her eyes she became conscious of world of make belief,
She chose awareness.
To police her energy
Never to give away her foresight
Honor her identity,
One that was created by her.
Day Dreaming about Drape
Acrylic on Canvas, 36” X 48”, 2019 (Prince on Request)
As she placed her gold rings into the cupboard,
Dina pretended to forget her reoccurring dream
She had been eyeing a beautiful tissue silk sari,
One that she had seen in the local magazine
Tarun despised Dina wearing tissue silk
For him, it brought back the dreadful memory
Of the sari his beloved mother passed away in
It was a material Dina didn’t own a single piece of – in her entire closet
Dina continued to cage the sari of her dreams
And continued to set the table for the upcoming guests
While she didn’t know his mother,
With the slightest whisper, she knew it brought out his most vulnerable side
Malati arriving fashionably late, came bearing a gift
It was, but of course – a beautifully wrapped tissue silk sari
With packaging that even Tiffany wouldn’t wrap itself into
Dina ogled as her heart exploded into multiple soft silk threads
As she tried it on in the confines of the room,
She swooned and twirled,
Looking deep into the mirror if this moment were really true
The most expensive perfume was whisked around the sprawling room
Flowers bloomed and butterflies appeared as she pleated and pleaded
Oh dear, never leave me
Tarun barged into the room, utterly surprised and then disheartened.
Dina packed the sari back neatly into the packaging…
Tarun was found outside – weeping, slouched against wall, tie undone
She threw the sari aside and sat beside him as they cried,
Arms intertwined and remembering bittersweet memories of Ma
As she hugged Tarun, Dina’s mind drifted right back to the sari…
The creases, the soft silk and its just its luminous presence on her body.
As she placed her gold rings into the cupboard,
Dina pretended to forget her reoccurring dream
She had been eyeing a beautiful tissue silk sari,
One that she had seen in the local magazine
Tarun despised Dina wearing tissue silk
For him, it brought back the dreadful memory
Of the sari his beloved mother passed away in
It was a material Dina didn’t own a single piece of – in her entire closet
Dina continued to cage the sari of her dreams
And continued to set the table for the upcoming guests
While she didn’t know his mother,
With the slightest whisper, she knew it brought out his most vulnerable side
Malati arriving fashionably late, came bearing a gift
It was, but of course – a beautifully wrapped tissue silk sari
With packaging that even Tiffany wouldn’t wrap itself into
Dina ogled as her heart exploded into multiple soft silk threads
As she tried it on in the confines of the room,
She swooned and twirled,
Looking deep into the mirror if this moment were really true
The most expensive perfume was whisked around the sprawling room
Flowers bloomed and butterflies appeared as she pleated and pleaded
Oh dear, never leave me
Tarun barged into the room, utterly surprised and then disheartened.
Dina packed the sari back neatly into the packaging…
Tarun was found outside – weeping, slouched against wall, tie undone
She threw the sari aside and sat beside him as they cried,
Arms intertwined and remembering bittersweet memories of Ma
As she hugged Tarun, Dina’s mind drifted right back to the sari…
The creases, the soft silk and its just its luminous presence on her body.
The Moment Anu Let Go
Acrylic on Canvas, 36” X 48”, 2021 (Prince on Request)
It was a rather beautiful life – filled with an abundance of flowers, lunches and monies. What lay underneath, no one knew. Not even Anu herself.
It was years of burden, sorrow, smiles, and poise wrapped in delicates – pile over pile, forming the pristine façade. Which flower was real, which emitted a soothing fragrance and which didn’t, didn't matter… It was all so beautifully curated that no one ever wanted to disturb it, even by mistake.
One day, while looking for her misplaced hairpin, Anu unraveled the layers, slowly, and one by one. She patiently caressed each wound, each fleeting emotion, each thing she held on so tight all through her perfect life.
She smiled as they began to fly away into thin air as she let them go…
It was a rather beautiful life – filled with an abundance of flowers, lunches and monies. What lay underneath, no one knew. Not even Anu herself.
It was years of burden, sorrow, smiles, and poise wrapped in delicates – pile over pile, forming the pristine façade. Which flower was real, which emitted a soothing fragrance and which didn’t, didn't matter… It was all so beautifully curated that no one ever wanted to disturb it, even by mistake.
One day, while looking for her misplaced hairpin, Anu unraveled the layers, slowly, and one by one. She patiently caressed each wound, each fleeting emotion, each thing she held on so tight all through her perfect life.
She smiled as they began to fly away into thin air as she let them go…
Saraswati Doesn’t Care
Acrylic on Canvas, 48” X 72”, 2019 (Price on Request)
Saraswati wondered why she gave away precious moments of her time and space to… oh wait, anybody. Like the subtle unwrapping of a beautiful present, like the blooming of a lotus stem, life is a journey of finding only her Divine Self… irrespective of anyone that is bothering her is anything but a fleeting moment, she reckoned. She simply – doesn’t care.
Saraswati wondered why she gave away precious moments of her time and space to… oh wait, anybody. Like the subtle unwrapping of a beautiful present, like the blooming of a lotus stem, life is a journey of finding only her Divine Self… irrespective of anyone that is bothering her is anything but a fleeting moment, she reckoned. She simply – doesn’t care.
Promila’s tryst with Candice
Acrylic on Canvas, 36” X 48”, 2019 (Price on Request)
Promila was a woman of few words. She smiled at parties to make her husband happy. She was a sassy boss-woman who led a million dollar company. She pleased everyone with her striking aura. The only time she pleased herself was with Candice – she trusted her with all her heart. As Candice purred, it was music to Promila’s ears for she knew she had someone to share her all her deepest secrets with.
Promila was a woman of few words. She smiled at parties to make her husband happy. She was a sassy boss-woman who led a million dollar company. She pleased everyone with her striking aura. The only time she pleased herself was with Candice – she trusted her with all her heart. As Candice purred, it was music to Promila’s ears for she knew she had someone to share her all her deepest secrets with.
Srilatha’s Apologies
Acrylic on Canvas, 36” X 48”, 2020 (Price on Request)
Srilatha apologized for everything. She apologized for the tea being too hot. For not warning Sateesh that the ice was too cold. For her washed out sari, for her silks being too rich to wear at home. She offered apologies as love notes… in the hope of being seen and understood for who she was. She was found years later, beneath all her apologies.
Srilatha apologized for everything. She apologized for the tea being too hot. For not warning Sateesh that the ice was too cold. For her washed out sari, for her silks being too rich to wear at home. She offered apologies as love notes… in the hope of being seen and understood for who she was. She was found years later, beneath all her apologies.
Oh Sunita, do you understand my circumstance?
Acrylic on Canvas, 36” X 48”, 2019 (Price on Request)
I was being interrupted, time and again as I continued speaking. I paused and asked myself, “Why am I even talking? I am just jabbering and she doesn’t even understand me!” I’ve begun to notice when I speak, I am as though a reflective TV to Sunita – she thinks I am a version of her, but I am Me. I know so because I know me.
We see people as we are, not as they are.
I was being interrupted, time and again as I continued speaking. I paused and asked myself, “Why am I even talking? I am just jabbering and she doesn’t even understand me!” I’ve begun to notice when I speak, I am as though a reflective TV to Sunita – she thinks I am a version of her, but I am Me. I know so because I know me.
We see people as we are, not as they are.
The Looming presence of Mrs Deshpande
Acrylic on Canvas, 48” X 48”, 2019 (Price on Request)
I looked at her bindi
Big, bright, it spoke a language
One which I really resonated with
It was not a man-maid consumerist product. It was self-created, by her hand.
I kept looking at her blouse – I wondered who her tailor was
How many rupees this was exchanged for
The motifs, synchronized so beautifully, I was noticing how and when the print broke rhythm
Her fingers, thick, moist, well moisturized
Clinching onto her napkin loosely as she spoke – loudly, but clearly
I don’t know about context, but her words
Were beautiful… I just wanted to keep listening to her
Just the right enunciation and the depth and the right pause
Don’t ask me to describe how the tied her sari
I don’t think even Gayatri Devi tied her sari so beautifully
The sari was draped with such fluency that it encapsulated the entire room into her knot
The creases, so powerful yet effortless that it made me question Mum
Why didn’t she ever tie her sari this well?
Her eyes were raw – untouched. No kohl lining, no dimension
They just stood there staring
Just then the phone call rang and I picked up the phone
No. Mrs Deshpande is not in town.
I looked at her bindi
Big, bright, it spoke a language
One which I really resonated with
It was not a man-maid consumerist product. It was self-created, by her hand.
I kept looking at her blouse – I wondered who her tailor was
How many rupees this was exchanged for
The motifs, synchronized so beautifully, I was noticing how and when the print broke rhythm
Her fingers, thick, moist, well moisturized
Clinching onto her napkin loosely as she spoke – loudly, but clearly
I don’t know about context, but her words
Were beautiful… I just wanted to keep listening to her
Just the right enunciation and the depth and the right pause
Don’t ask me to describe how the tied her sari
I don’t think even Gayatri Devi tied her sari so beautifully
The sari was draped with such fluency that it encapsulated the entire room into her knot
The creases, so powerful yet effortless that it made me question Mum
Why didn’t she ever tie her sari this well?
Her eyes were raw – untouched. No kohl lining, no dimension
They just stood there staring
Just then the phone call rang and I picked up the phone
No. Mrs Deshpande is not in town.
Did I make it in time for Dinner, auntie?
Acrylic on Canvas, 48” X 48”, 2019 (Price on Request)
It was just a sensual concoction –
Lalita sprinkled the white wine laboriously through the dish
As though it was a ceremonious act of sacred belief
She unscrambled the eggs, and unwhipped the batter
She kneeled and began to pray – delicately, in her silk nightgown
She toiled over the chutney vigorously, chipping her nailpaint
From the spill of the spatula, she licked it with her finger for a sampling
I didn’t know what she was doing… I screamed; I shooed her away,
Threatening to stumble away from this synergy
She pleaded me back to bed unwillingly
Why couldn’t we do it this way this time? Lalita asked.
The way she began to breathe heavily scared me by the minute, it seemed to be very pranayam-esque
The way it happened bewildered me,
I pulled up my pants and I went to the powder room
By the time I had scrapped the tissue over my face, she was there – lying on the floor
Her third eye open – I could see power that I hadn’t seen in her skewed eyes
She ran her fingers down to her waistline as she sang eerily
F’ck you, I meant what I said, she said.
It was just a sensual concoction –
Lalita sprinkled the white wine laboriously through the dish
As though it was a ceremonious act of sacred belief
She unscrambled the eggs, and unwhipped the batter
She kneeled and began to pray – delicately, in her silk nightgown
She toiled over the chutney vigorously, chipping her nailpaint
From the spill of the spatula, she licked it with her finger for a sampling
I didn’t know what she was doing… I screamed; I shooed her away,
Threatening to stumble away from this synergy
She pleaded me back to bed unwillingly
Why couldn’t we do it this way this time? Lalita asked.
The way she began to breathe heavily scared me by the minute, it seemed to be very pranayam-esque
The way it happened bewildered me,
I pulled up my pants and I went to the powder room
By the time I had scrapped the tissue over my face, she was there – lying on the floor
Her third eye open – I could see power that I hadn’t seen in her skewed eyes
She ran her fingers down to her waistline as she sang eerily
F’ck you, I meant what I said, she said.
In Roma’s Premises
Acrylic on Canvas, 48” X 72”, 2019 (Price on Request)
Can anyone see me?
Roma often wondered
Through…
the long echoes of sunless corridors
the hustle bustle of an abstracted playground
the remorseful choices which she longed to be a part of…
The internal questioning which made her step back into her cocoon
the silent smacking of her snack without creating a purr
the pacing of the heart when gawked at,
the disappearance of a smile at the sound of an interaction
the overcast scribbles at the end of each torn notebook
Hiding behind the herd when a moment was captured
Through…
the absent presence in her lineage
the inaudible cries amongst the chaos
the arguments, which were mere manipulation
the sense of pacing inward, of drowning
the disinterest in happiness, in sleep, or being awake
the murmurs – or in responding
the tight fistedness in anxious showers
the me in being me,
Through the calm when,
Roma slapped her journal, and her wandering mind
She didn’t need my pain to be validated,
Or a fairy godmother who could turn her longing into peaceful solitude
She played with the tips of her fingernails and wrote a fresh sheet.
Can anyone see me?
Roma often wondered
Through…
the long echoes of sunless corridors
the hustle bustle of an abstracted playground
the remorseful choices which she longed to be a part of…
The internal questioning which made her step back into her cocoon
the silent smacking of her snack without creating a purr
the pacing of the heart when gawked at,
the disappearance of a smile at the sound of an interaction
the overcast scribbles at the end of each torn notebook
Hiding behind the herd when a moment was captured
Through…
the absent presence in her lineage
the inaudible cries amongst the chaos
the arguments, which were mere manipulation
the sense of pacing inward, of drowning
the disinterest in happiness, in sleep, or being awake
the murmurs – or in responding
the tight fistedness in anxious showers
the me in being me,
Through the calm when,
Roma slapped her journal, and her wandering mind
She didn’t need my pain to be validated,
Or a fairy godmother who could turn her longing into peaceful solitude
She played with the tips of her fingernails and wrote a fresh sheet.
I’m not here because of you – Jaya
Acrylic on Canvas, 36” X 48”, 2019 (Price on Request)
Jaya looked up, tears rolling down her eyes. She wept inconsolably as she questioned her current circumstance. She snatched the tablecloth full of what symbolized a “perfect family” – gourmet home cooked main-course, soup and blueberry cheesecake. I had been a good girl, married a man chosen by my elders who was a right and just man. He was anything but. And I am tired of justifying to others and myself why… Here I was looped in existential crises circling through my mind. But I was here because, I gave away my power to Choose.
Jaya looked up, tears rolling down her eyes. She wept inconsolably as she questioned her current circumstance. She snatched the tablecloth full of what symbolized a “perfect family” – gourmet home cooked main-course, soup and blueberry cheesecake. I had been a good girl, married a man chosen by my elders who was a right and just man. He was anything but. And I am tired of justifying to others and myself why… Here I was looped in existential crises circling through my mind. But I was here because, I gave away my power to Choose.
Dear Mohini
Acrylic on Canvas, 24” X 36”, 2019 (Price on Request)
I thought my life would be perfect once I receive it. I ripped open the pillows, searched behind the cupboard, inside in the attic and even under the dusty doormat. I sighed as I took a sip of the finest vino in my humble trolley. It was shining bright, on my finger.
It holds no purpose of… well, its initial promise.
I thought my life would be perfect once I receive it. I ripped open the pillows, searched behind the cupboard, inside in the attic and even under the dusty doormat. I sighed as I took a sip of the finest vino in my humble trolley. It was shining bright, on my finger.
It holds no purpose of… well, its initial promise.
Renuka Introspects
Acrylic on Canvas, 48” X 36”, 2017 (Price on Request)
Accident on Pali Hill, 2005
Acrylic on Canvas, 48” X 36”, 2017 (Price on Request)
Mita Lets her Hair down
Acrylic on Canvas, 48” X 36”, 2017 (Price on Request)
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