Popsicle

Non-existent, Existence.

An old wooden chair in the verandah, occupied by an old person. Around him children running, screaming, singing, playing;mothers reprimanding them for being too loud.
Everyone talking, communicating, being vocal except for just one person whose face is a field of wrinkles. The eyes sunk deep in the soft, vulnerable, suffered skin. His eyes and mind focused on some distant memory. Remembering, cherishing, nurturing the past. The past when they lived! Not  just existed like in present, where they are non- existent in the minds of people around them.

Those eyes have become weak, the faces of their own children evanesce like smoke.The  same eyes which had seen the young ones take their first steps. Seen the first lines of tension on the faces of growing adolescents. Seen the first look of anxiety on their first day of job, now searching for a meaningful look towards them.

The strong hands which toiled day and night to bring up family and educate them shake today while holding a glass of water. Wondering if someone will help the glass to their lips.
Once they were the masters of the house; loved, feared and respected. Whose presence was enough to scare, reassure, comfort and bring security to a household. Today they sit in a corner like a well used furniture whose presence has become irrelevant but whose absence would be felt.

Nobody enjoys talking to them or ask for  their suggestions. They are considered to have reached a state when their minds are degenerating and deteriorating. The same mind which  taught the children to think, process, analyse  and argue.
They are well taken care of, healthy food, comfort and luxury bought  by money is provided  to them. Everything except for one key ingredient, communication. Speech, conversation, language. Verbal interaction, the one thing that differentiates us as humans. Something which improves the quality of life and increases longevity according to new researches.

Enemies Of Humanity

Written in 1991, everyone can relate to it today.

They are the ones, who live to spread death; mislead by enemies of humanity, their souls have fallen in dirt.

They are the ones, who kill for fun, no matter what is done; obsessed with violence, they find no other way, but do not know that their children may also fall prey, to the bullets of the guns, which bring widowhood, anxiety, sorrow and pain.

They think, they are superior to us, but have committed greatest of crimes by betraying  their nation, just in mistrust towards us.

They have till now pierced nation's heart, for those, who once were a part of this very nation, now divided by political bars.

Not only do they support those, who sliced their mother nation's food bowl but even drained half life from her wounded soul.

They who think will free the people, don't realize, are snatching right to live, in multiples.

What freedom and peace can they attain? When their own mind and body is caged in devil's fist for certain.

Which nation can they be building? When have broken flourishing homes willingly.

What joy and progress can they achieve? When their way is brutality in chief.

Whose tears do they promise to consume? When their conscience is already buried in tombs.

What life can they give? When themselves don't know how to live.

No eyes to see the truth, they are blind to the core.
No ears to hear the cry, they are deaf, filling the world with hatred.

Not that we hate them, its their deeds we despise; lets tell them they are humans and not God's alike.

Let no child become an orphan, let no mother be devoid of her child.
Lets tell them they are wrong and we may retaliate.

Lets tell them to live and let live on our land, for the day is not far when people will not accept fate's hand.

Beware! the ocean of fury may rise, among those who have sacrificed their loved ones for a meaningless cause, wiping their existence once and for all.

Chandalika

Posting the last painting of this series by Mrs. Kanak Sinha. She graduated from Vasanta College for Women,Banaras, which is affiliated to Banaras Hindu University.Her fine arts teacher was Shri Avni Kumar Sinha, lovingly known to students as Avnida. He was from Kolkota School Of Arts.The unique thing about his classes was that all the students in his class were given just a topic and every student had to  compose a painting on their own thus no two paintings under the same roof were the same, there was no copying , all compositions by every student were original.
CHANDALIKA
This painting depicts the story of an "untouchable" woman, Prokrithi who was mistreated by villagers because of her caste.She found a new life when a Budhhist Monk named Anondo requested her to give him water to drink from her well, breaking all the barriers of caste rules and told her she was equal to all other humans. This story was written by Shri Rabindranath Tagore in 1933 to bring awareness about the futility and unfairness of caste system.It was turned into a dance drama in 1938.

Abhisarika

This painting depicts a young woman in love, "Abhisarika" refers to a lady who does not care about what the world thinks or says about her, she is in love and intends to meet her beloved without worrying about the consequences.I tried to look up an English word for this particular word in Hindi but could not find one.

Santhali Folk Dance

Santhal are a tribal community ,they form the largest tribal community in India and inhabit many states of India like Jharkhand,Bihar,west Bengal. This painting depicts their folk dance  performed by women, accompanied by male musicians.

Mother & Child

This is one of the most favourite paintings of Mrs. Kanak Sinha.

 In Hindi language, the word "love" has many different names depending upon the relationship shared between two people. A mother's love for her child which is referred to as " Vatsalya" is considered second only to love for God " Bhakti".

Painting By Kanak Sinha