The Moods of Blue
This piece speaks about the shades of blue that are seen on flowers. The shades interiors and the tinted petals. The variation in sizes, textures, and patterns. How disorderly ordered they are. On a poetic note, it speaks of the emotion in blue. Subtle sorrow and a regret that keeps returning.
The Universe Within
This is an abstract piece. To my eyes, it resembles people. There is a crowd of people at the station, somewhere between late evening and twilight. There is so much within us that is invisible to others. There could be stars of idiosyncrasy, constellations of poetry, galaxies of essence, and a universe of our own within us but all of those are unseen. So, amidst a mundane crowd at the station, I’ve tried to notice something beyond what meets the eye.
This is a picture of Autumn leaves, falling from the trees. I have never witnessed autumn but if I ever do, I hope it looks just as enthralling as illustrations and films make it look.
Of violets and pinks
This is a bouquet that I had purchased from a florist, for no reason except that I loved the colours. It has a number of flowers in it amidst two bigger flowers.
Everybody found it boring because there were just a few colours in it but to me, it looked something like an orderly arrangement. As if, there was supposed to be as much of magenta as there was.
This is a scene at a local brothel, somewhere in the suburbs of Bombay, India. The colours indicate the fancy sarees and dramatic makeup worn by the prostitutes. It is a chaotic scene with women walking by, bedroom doors open, and unclaimed lingerie lying around.
The throes of childbirth
This scene reflects upon the time when childbirth used to be a household affair. Women from across villages would come down with an older female, envelope the pregnant woman, and create a makeshift hospital room in an empty nook of the house. This painting shows the pregnant woman lying down and a number of females from the village have surrounded her.
The chaotic assassins
This shows a murder scene where a number of tribals have murdered a local political leader during a festival and are in the midst of escaping.
The dancing knight
This shows a knight with his armour, dancing into the night after successfully defeating his opponent who is seen in the distance, about to collapse.
The four women
This shows four women with their hair open, looking down from their balcony. They are looking at a crowd of protestors from a neighboring village as their suitors wait downstairs. They are all about the age of fifteen.
The circus of shadows
This is a market scene. There are a number of people moving around and their shadow seems to prance with them. A child is lost amidst the crowd and his mother is looking for him, both are on opposite ends of the market. This is a normal scene in any Indian marketplace.
This is a red carnation. It was inspired by a flower that I’d observed a while back. There is not much of a message behind it. Deep red carnations symbolise love and just as this carnation, I hope we all bleed some love and kindness into this world.
When the sea meets the trees
This is a time of turmoil when the sea is stormy and the waves rise high enough to mingle with the leaves of the trees for the sea is lonely in times of peace and tranquility, forever separated from the sky.
This is inspired by a moment when I’d observed beautiful flowers growing along the edges of concrete pavements. One of the flowers was particularly blue and seemed to be a misfit, a spout of rebellion.
This is inspired by a flower that I’d seen in the neighboring garden. It had so many petals that it was nearly impossible to find it’s center. Again, there’s not much of a meaning to it.
I bought love today
This is a bouquet with flowers, all in warm colours, purchased for Valentine’s.
I bought love from the florist across my
street, settled on the concrete pavement
with daisies growing by the edges, on a
sleepy headed Sunday morning filled with
snippy sounds of local birds, newspaper
sellers, grocers, and vehicular
pandemonium. He sold chrysanthemums,
lilies, roses, carnations, orchids, gerberas,
lavenders, tulips, and some street side love.
He sold love with no price tags.
He sold love in pale beige cloth bags.
By Alolika Dutta
Alolika Dutta is a poet, writer, and spoken word artist from Bombay, India. Occasionally, she also likes to paint. She has previously had her work published in Thought Catalog, Mental Movement Magazine, Feminism in India, and Coldnoon. Additionally, she has been featured on The Medium.
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