Tuesday, February 23, 2016

Thoughts on Attending a Literary Symposium


Last week, I attended a conference organized by the university and partook of the intellectual pleasure involved in basking in scholarly ideas propounded by a line of talented academicians. Although several papers presented at the conference unequivocally deserved an elevated seat, there were others which were not only inferior, but also downright pitiable in their academic capability. Ambiguous, self-contradictory and lacking in intellectual depth, these papers presented at the conference failed to struck a right chord and abraded the mind generally mollified by unembellished intellectualism.

While the conference offered the way to composing a well-edited and well-documented research paper bolstered by arguments; on the other, the contrapuntal exposition of dismal writing was only too evident to ignore.  As I sit at my desk on this early spring morning of the first day of the week imbibing the cacophony of mechanized quadrupeds and millipedes, my mind wanders and settles itself on thoughts of the conference and the papers that struck me by their merits and demerits.

A talk on the importance of literature and how literature is never neutral despite an artist’s apolitical, asocial stance was an important, albeit hackneyed, premise that began the academic proceedings for me. The speaker of the early session, a noted academician, spoke at length about literature being imbricated with elements of social realism. According to him even the most esoteric tokens of a creative mind are an effort to consciously manipulate language and artistry so as to communicate a certain ideology directly or indirectly to a reader. The modernist texts, the transcripts laden with abstractions, the works of Joyce, Chomsky and Eco, all share a similar purpose: they all strive to communicate with a reader. And in this process of communication, an author’s latent ideology, her frame of mind, her intellectual propensities all evident or hidden under layers of conscious or unconscious literary mysticism find expression in the text she composes. A denizen and an integral element of her society, the society’s fictional refraction or non-fictional reflection inevitably occupies a fundamental space in the writer’s work. The scholar noted that neutrality in a creative work is unequivocally the most undesirable element, since it’s a departure from the embryonic purpose of literature: to heighten human consciousness and to sensitize it by unleashing the tidal wave of catharsis.

Another paper that touched base with one of the leading talking points in Indian English literature: the importance of incorporating the Bhasa texts in the study of Indian English was exceptionally well-presented and was intellectually invigorating. The paper incorporated the critical imperative to canonize the tokens of Indian literature into a significant and compacted category. It proposed that the nuances of Indian writing, the myriad contrapuntal tonalities of Indian English, the social scenario that daubs the writer’s psyche, the elemental influence of the spatial-temporal element in a writer’s work all need to be considered from an indigenous point of view when critiquing a work of Indian English literature. Here, the hybridized tropes of western literary criticism falls short of adequately deracinating the qualities of a literary work psychologically and socially ingrained in the ethnic soil; hence, a distinct categorization of Indian English writing is indispensable.

On the second day, I savored the flavorful mulligatawny of children’s lit, young adult literature, the absurd nous of nonsense poetry, eco-criticism, and post-colonialism, etcetera. Having surmounted the acclivity of enthrallment, aversion, torpor, insouciance and finally, illumination, I came back home my head full of ideas and my mind filled with newfound admiration for the art of literary communication. An initial discourse on the popular fairy tale of Little Red Riding Hood talked about the overt sensual cues impleached within the thread work of the story. The implications of the color red, its intrinsic association with sexuality, and the primeval suggestiveness of the leitmotif of the big bad wolf in fairy tales were some of the interesting points discussed.

A critical study of the story of Snow White through the psychoanalytic lens of Carl Jung was the central thesis of an excellent paper presented by a research scholar from IIT Roorkie. The intrinsic merit of her work, coupled with her excellent presentational skills abridged time for me. I sat in awe of her subject wondering how the seemingly innocuous genre of children’s literature is thickly laden with inner meaning. Another presentation by a graduate student from Viswa Bharati, the intellectual ryokan of the East of India, was illuminating as well. Her work featuring popular fairy tales in Bangla talked about gender, readership, the idea of male impotence as a recurrent theme in several of the stories and the motif of the “antur ghar” (in-home labor room) as a gendered space that held in abeyance the laws of patriarchy governing a feudalistic Bengali household were interesting points of conversation.

The intellectual bouillabaisse was further flavored by a talk on Thoreou’s Walden, a favorite text I often go back to when the need to connect with the inner self suggests itself. The Transcendentalist’s deliberations on solitude, thrift, the honing of the skill of self-sufficiency, the need to conserve nature were all part of the paper. Though mediocre in content and lacking in originality, the speaker’s attempt to play a beautiful video of Nature speaking to her children smoothed the irregularities of her presentation for me. Here, I couldn’t help but wonder why nurturing is still regarded in popular culture as the domain of the materfamilias. Although it’s time we deconstruct the trite impression of the nurturing mother and consider her as a human being imbued with several other characteristics apart from her tendency to nurture, we must agree that attempts by Feminist scholars alone cannot invoke a tectonic shift in the outlook of the all and sundry. Change is never a linear process.

Having convinced myself as to the overall intellectual impact of the papers presented at the conference, I found myself wholly unprepared for the consternation I was destined to receive in the guise of a paper that dealt with the Harry Potter series and the Twilight saga. Full to the brim with enthusiasm as to the intellectual treat I thought I was to receive, I found myself shell-shocked when the self-contradictory arguments of the research scholar hounded me like time’s running chariot. An uncompromising aficionado of Rowling’s Harry Potter series, a self-confessed magic loving muggle, I have spent many a happy hour gloating in Rowling’s world of fantasy, conjuring charms, wondering what my Patronus would look like. The glamour of the presentation topic weighed heavily on me as I listened to the content proposed by the scholar. Arrhythmia set in with unusual severity the more I sat and listened to the presentation. The scholar made it a point to malign my favorite series by blatantly declaring that many adults in her country (she came from a neighboring nation) look down upon the Harry Potter series. She further defaced it by saying that it is read specifically by teenagers and young adults since it lacks any link with reality. Here, I wonder, if it isn’t an erroneous gesture to cast aspersions at fantasy literature because of its apparent disconnection with reality. Can we be so audacious as to disdain such mighty tokens of literary merits like the Narnia series, the Discworld saga, the Alice Stories, Harry Potter and many more as artless works of fiction unfit to occupy the bookshelves of our kakotopia? Aren’t they the measures to provide respite from the pains hurled by political bludgers (READ: Sedition, dissent, nationalism-anti-nationalism debate: I hate you all) in our dystopic reality? I think they are. Also, I believe, any student of literature who adopts the monotheistic attitude of accepting a book by its face value without interrogating its intrinsic assets and disadvantages, once who could easily relegate a text based on its genre is a simpleton clearly unfit to study and appreciate the depth that humanities offers. I never got a chance to question the presenter as to why, being an agnostic, she chose to work on popular tales of fantasy. Can you really progress with your research work if you are convinced by your topic’s latent solemnity?  A line of vociferous arguments disarmed our young scholar and she found herself utterly baffled when confronting the questions of several teachers and students. I did not add to her woe.

A subsequent presentation on the nonsense literature composed by Sukumar Ray began with a list of interesting arguments. The author of the paper, in spite of his serious lack of presentation skills and a paper that traversed a belabored path, pointed out with great incisiveness how Sukumar Ray’s poetic renderings were in reality acerbic criticisms directed at the imperial masters and their loyal servants, the Bengali Bharolok, indigenous gentlemanly characters imperial in spirit. The author’s critical investigation of several of Ray’s poems was insightful in rekindling a renewed respect for an author every Bengali girl indisputably adores.

The fascinating final note of the day was provided by the presentation on the orientalist cartoons published in the Punch magazine. The penultimate paper, the award winning submission of the year, was an excellent intellectual document that studied a series of cartoons featuring in the Punch magazine and pointed how they propelled the imperialist cause, propagated the orientalist myth of a regressive and uncivilized orient that needs the masterful occidental potentate to survive, thrive and lead attain the basics of a civilized life.

The proceedings of the day concluded with a lecture on the postcolonial novels pf our day, their nuances and their unique creative focus. The academician presenting the paper talked about the postcolonial tomes as conscious raising artistic attempts focusing on the composite postcolonial environment for its creative prompts and often deconstructing the orientalist myths propagated by the imperial gaze during the protracted period of colonial incubation.

As I came home that day with mind filled with thoughts and ideas, I couldn’t but congratulate myself for being a perennial scholar of the humanities and for having the leisure and the opportunity to allow myself to marinate in the intellectual juice of academia and imbibing some its creative and critical insights in the process.

Monday, March 2, 2015

Parabaas_Publication_March 2015

My translation of Bibhuti Bhusan Bandyopadhyay's short fiction, "Puin Mancha" has been published in the latest issue of Parabaas, Here is a link to the story:  The Climbing Spinach Trellis










Wednesday, October 8, 2014

Jubilant Jaipur: A Blog on our October Trip to the ‘Pink City'




One early morning during the inception of the festive season when all of Delhi slept, we made our way to the railway station with the intention of catching the New Delh-Ajmer Shatabdi Express. The station was bustling with activity even in that early hour, and except for a series of people sleeping on the floor on mats and newspapers, there was hardly any somniferous sign in the vicinity. Passengers waited for the early trains, the customary mechanical female voice narrated the arrival-departure notifications in Hindi and English respectively, while the coolies with brass amulet like badges carried their usual tonnage. The newspapers of the day having freshly arrived at one of the bookstalls, we helped ourselves to a crisp new sheet and a couple of magazines.Our luggage at our heel, we waited for the train to arrive at our platform. 


Presently, the train slithered its way into view. The arrival of a train is always an exciting sight to watch. The beacon of red light and the boom of the engine horn are the first suggestions of its arrival, and then come its massive body and its undulating tail. Even in these modern days when many people prefer air travel over long-distance commute in railroad trains, the appeal of the train as a quintessential mode of transport is far from exhausted. Being an economical and easily accessible means of travelling, apart from that vintage-appeal that it inevitably ensues, many of us desiderate railroad travel to air-travel when time is not an issue.


 Our train commenced on its journey on-time and puffed its way out of the station. For the next few hours, we viewed an ever-changing landscape outside our windows. After the initial quarter of an hour, when we saw backs of houses, dumps of garbage, there burst into view the hillocks, meadows and agricultural fields rich with the fruits of the season. Bathed in the morning light, the green of the fields were soothing to the eye accustomed to the pollution laden scenery of a metropolitan city. 



Presently, when we saw pink-washed buildings and structures, we realized we were nearing the ‘Pink City’. The train reached Jaipur station fifteen minutes later than its scheduled time of arrival and we made our way to our hotel. The taxi cab ride from Jaipur station to our hotel, which was near the Jalmahal, took nearly an hour because of the awful traffic jam caused by the metro rail construction in the city. After a late lunch at the hotel and a spell of much needed siesta, we made our way to the City Palace. The pink city with its pinkish splendor spread its charmingly warm and sunny carpet of welcome for us.


The city of Jaipur is a most perfect confluence point of our eclectic Indian culture. Steeped in romance and marinating in royal heritage, this well-planned, antiquated city, built by Sawai Jai Singh II of the Kachhwaha Rajput clan, is a traveler’s delight. Planned by the Bengali architect Vidyadhar Chakravorty, Jaipur is divided into nine blocks and encircled by a formidable wall. In this walled city, you will find the juxtaposition of the old and the new in a multihued canvas that accommodates the myriad colors of India with rich flamboyance. Here, you will encounter ostentatious palaces, stunning astronomical instruments, royal armory on one hand, and modest shops selling delightful tchotchkes, pagdi-donned commoners, ghagra wearing females on the other. Our three-day holiday in the city offered us a great opportunity to dive into Jaipur’s rich culture and imbibe some of its pink richness.

 City Palace, Jaipur 

 City Palace, Jaipur 


Our first stop on our first day of touring around Jaipur was the royal residence complex or the City Palace. Like the city of Jaipur which offers a concurrence of the old and the new in the same canvas, the City Palace, one of its principle architectures, too is a medley of two different styles of design: Mughal and Rajput. This extensive regal complex is complete with courtyards, gardens, museums, temples, etc. The royal family still resides in a specially allocated portion of the City Palace. A fluttering royal flag abaft the building occupied by the imperial family suggested the presence of the present king in the building. When the king is absent from his royal seat, the flag is not hoisted. 



The entrance tickets of City Palace are modestly priced for Indian residents. Having my graduate student card with me, I successfully availed myself of the discount that you get if you have a valid student identity card with you. Upon entering the royal complex, you find yourself accosting the Mubarak Mahal, or the reception centre. When Sawai Madho Singh built the palace, this area was used as a royal guest house. Now it houses the Maharaja Sawai Man Singh II Museum which displays a glorious collection of royal memorabilia, weaponry, paintings and costumes. The most memorable among this memorabilia is the voluminous dress worn by Sawai Madho Singh I. He was a king with unprecedented adipose deposit: he weighed about 250 kg!


Making my way through a group of bewildered onlookers who stood gaping at the king’s mighty dress, I found myself face to face with the royal attire. Since visitors are not allowed to take pictures in the museum, I mentally captured the image of the cloak impleached with gold. In breadth it is so extensive that it could very well clothe a full family of four individuals. As I tried to imagine the king wearing the same costume and standing before me in his full height, I found a few stray drops of perspiration on my forehead and so decided to amuse myself by concentrating on the other finery.


Our next stop at the City Palace was the Diwan-i-Khas, or the hall of the selective audience. Located on a raised platform, the ceiling of this marble paved pavilion is decked with beautiful chandeliers. However, the most exquisite items on display in the Diwan-i-Khas are the two mammoth silver water containers mentioned in the Guinness Book of World Records. Sawai Madho Singh II used these gigantic silver vessels to store drinking water from the river Ganga when he went on his trip abroad. 

Diwan-i_Khas at City Palace, Jaipur 

Diwan-i_Khas at City Palace, Jaipur 

Diwan-i_Khas at City Palace, Jaipur 

The Maharani’s Palace or the Sileh Khana is the power-packed chamber of the City Palace, it being, ironically, in my opinion, the abode to some of the most exquisite Rajput weaponry you’d ever see. Upon leaving the Diwan-i-Khas, we headed in that direction of fearsome beatitude. An ostentatious “welcome” sign on the wall made by arranging several daggers and knives overwhelmed me with their presence. The Rajputs were evidently fond of their toys as wherever I looked I accosted glass-case after glass-case of fierce weaponry. Knives, swords, some with engraved, stone studded hilts, some simple in appearance, bucklers and shields, guns and other armory filled every corner of this massive chamber. Being a non-violent individual, I wasn’t at ease in that chamber of arms; nevertheless, I couldn’t but admire the zeal of the Rajputs who must have taken great pains in collecting that massive array of armaments. Be that as it may, I decided to leave the gallery of weaponry and all thoughts of war and death behind when I descended the stairs and headed for the Diwan-i-Am.

The chamber for the general public or Diwan-i-Am is a breathtaking gallery of royal collectibles and curios. From a handwritten copy of the Bahagavad Gita to copies done in miniature form of other noted sacred Hindi texts, the Diwan-i-Am displays it all. The hall itself is a poem done in masonry. It has exquisite chandeliers, marble pillars and many more. You will be drenched with beauty inside this extraordinary hall of ordinary people.  


Upon exiting the Diwan-i-Am, we felt a strong urge to savor some royal tea at the Royal Café in the vicinity. Apart from the fact that the restaurant was inside the City Palace and their crockery had the royal emblem, there was nothing especially royal about the café. The prices of food items in the menu were modest and the quality of the tea they served was good.



Puppet Show at The City Palace, Jaipur

Some gratuitous Rajasthani decor shopping later, we went to see the Hawa Mahal, that exquisite palace of the wind located a few yards away from the City Palace. The Hawa Mahal is the unequivocal crowning jewel of Jaipur. Such is its design, its distinctive architecture, that standing in front of it, even among the jostling peddlers and honking traffic of Jaipur, you will find yourself transported to some romantic land of dreams. Maharaja Sawai Pratap Singh who commissioned this building had originally intended it to be a gallery for royal ladies to view the processions of the city. Nowadays you don’t need to belong to the royal family to climb the stairs of this exquisite five-storied marvel and enjoy the ever-changing kaleidoscope of life in the Pink City. 


Hawa Mahal, Jaipur 

Hawa Mahal, Jaipur 


The second day of sightseeing around Jaipur began with a chance of adventure for us. We decided that instead of booking a cab, we would travel by auto rickshaw and take in the flavor of the city, which we did, literally, since pollution is the main ingredient of the Jaipur air.


Our first stop upon leaving our hotel was the Jaigarh Fort. Of the three forts in Jaipur, Jaigarh is now known exclusively as an artillery warehouse. Located at a strategic point, this hill-top fort offers a breathtaking panoramic view of Jaipur. Maharaja Jai Singh II built the fort in the 18th Century with the aid of the architect Vidyadhar Chakravorty. 


Jaigarh Fort

The most exquisite item on display at the Jaigarh Fort is the behemoth Jaivana Cannon cast in 1720. It is a humongous object that speaks of the sheer power of the erstwhile Rajputs. Our guide informed us that the Jaivana was test fired once and the impact of the cannonball was such that a lake had formed in Chaksu, the place where the cannonball had landed. It is mythically held that the range of the cannon is around 40 km. 

Jaivana


The museum at the Jaigarh Fort was fascinating as well, being well equipped with royal photographs and artillery; nevertheless, it was the ancient temple dedicated to Kal Bhairav, the protecting deity of the fort, which interested me most.


From Jaigarh we headed to that famed structure of Jaipur: The Amer Fort. In Jaipur, Amer is the only one where you’ll encounter royal luxury in full. It has an exquisite Sheesh Mahal, fabulous gardens, a beautiful Diwan-i-Am, and is in one word a perfect erstwhile royal seat. Located about 10 km north of Jaipur, Amer was the capital of the Kacchwaha Rajputs for nearly 700 years. The fort was built in 1592 by Raja Man Singh 1, while the subsequent rulers added to its majestic charm. 









Garden at Amer Fort, Jaipur


Sheesh Mahal, Amer Fort, Jaipur



 To reach the fort you can either take a jeep at the car-stand or take an elephant ride. We opted for the former and reached the rear portion of the fort in ten minutes. The lovely sandstone Diwan-i-Am and the twenty-seven pillared scribe-hall or Sattais Kacheri are some of the attractions at the Amer Fort. In fact, every section of this fort, be it the mirrored Sheesh Mahal or the royal bathing hall, or even the faded murals on the interior walls, will overwhelm you with its beauty. A visit to the exquisite royal seat is never complete without a stop at the sarangi player outside the fort. The musician is an undoubted virtuoso and entertains the crowd with the melodious notes from his sarangi. I had listened to him in my previous visit to the Amer fort and enjoyed his music this time too. He wields myriad kinds of music from his Saringi and that day he even played a snippet from “Baby Doll” the latest Bollywood item song.



The Saringi Player at the Amer Fort, Jaipur


 It being four already, we rushed to see the Jantar Mantar, which closes at five in the evening, from the Amer Fort. Jantar Mantat was built during a time when kings received especial epithets for being extraordinarily intelligent. Apparently, the sire who built Jaipur was in the eyes of the Mughal emperor Aurangzeb sawa, meaning a quarter, more intelligent that most people. And this extra-intelligence earned him the soubriquet Sawai from Aurangzeb himself.




Jantar Mantar, Jaipur

Jantar Mantar, Jaipur


 The Jantar Mantar observatory was built by Sawai Jai Singh II, who was renowned for his astronomical interest. It features an extraordinary array of complex astronomical instruments and is a treat for the eyes. This observatory is the best preserved of the five observatories that the king built in India.


Delicious Rajasthani Thali at LMB, Jaipur

 A long spell of shopping later, we next headed to the famed Lakshmi Mistanna Bhandar, or LMB, as it is called in Jaipur, at the Johri Bazaar for dinner. Being an avid traveler I have been to several restaurants that serve Rajasthani food, but the exquisite Rajasthani thali of LMB beats all my previous Rajasthani food experience by a wide margin. Delicious is an understatement when speaking about the magnificent meal we had that night at the eatery. The food was the cream on top of our perfect Jaipur get-away. The cherry on top of it, however, was experienced by us the following day when we boarded the famous double-decker train from Jaipur to Delhi. The train not only started and reached its destination on time, but also offered us an opportunity to view the landscape outside from an upper level compartment.


Thus our fabulous getaway to Jaipur came to an end and we returned home refreshed and bearing a luggage of new memories to please us in the coming months. 






P.S. A caveat: if traveling by the double-decker train, avoid the lower compartment. You will know why when you see it in person. 




Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Mahalaya: The Dawn of the Festive Season



This morning, I chanced to stumble upon a gorgeous article  by Tanya Basu among the dregs of social media updates and shares about Mahalaya, the auspicious day that marks the exordium of the Durga pujo season. The reading of the same got me thinking about Mahalaya and I couldn’t but post a blog on the topic. (Here's the link to Tanya Basu's article in the Atlantic: An 83-Year-Old Song Dominates India's Airwaves Every Year)

Mahisasur Mardini: The Full Radio Program 

For many of us Bengalis, Mahalaya unequivocally starts with the All India Radio program Mahisasur Mardini. From childhood upwards, we have been getting up with the pigeons on the morning of Mahalaya to sit before our radio sets and listen to the mesmerizing baritone of Birendra Krishna Bhadra. The aforementioned AIR program is for us the official herald of the festive season, the sonorous clarion call of happiness that resounds in our ears the prospect of glorious days to come. The velutinous morning air is penetrated by the canorous notes of the radio-piece which incorporates both chants in high-Sanskrit and religious songs dedicated to maa Durga, the fiery-eyed, demon-slaying, evil destroying mother goddess.

Mahalaya is that time of the year when you may behold in all Bengalis a feeling of nostalgic stillness, when, thanks to this old radio program recorded in 1931, we lose, albeit momentarily, ourselves in the spell of music and let a sense of unmistakable, and absolute peace fall over us in the early hours of dawn like a sheer silk curtain impleached with golden threadwork. Year after year, the tradition of listening to the inimitable voice of Birendra Krishna Bhadra continues without a speck of rusting in the machinery.

What is it, I wonder, in that eighty-minute program that stirs us to the very depths of our souls? Why, as we listen to the Sanskit slokas, our eyes well up and we feel a distinct lump in our throat when in the climactic moment of the tale the oratorio’s voice trembles with emotion? The thought leads me to the power of music. Since a time out of mind, music has been granted one of the highest seats of creative art form that moves you like nothing else. Be it the tribal song and dance rituals performed in the open, or a classical music performance unleashed in an auditorium, the power of music is potent everywhere.

On Mahalaya mornings, we Bengalis form a music-loving claque of our own as each of us, even those of us who live in distant lands, unite with the other under the canopy of music for over an hour and become a microcosm of the humanity at large. Every year, an invisible alarm-clock announces the hour of partaking of the musical ceremony when for a stipulated time we bid adieu to the changes of society, to our medical marvels, scientific spectacles, and social flux to engage in a changeless limbo of our own in a harmonious ritual when Birendra Krishna Bhadra’s voice booming with life presents before us the saga of the our beloved maa Durga.

In the early hours of this day of Aswin (the sixth month of the Bengali calendar), like the tintinnabulation of a pair of anklets, we hear the sound of the advent of the mother goddess, says Birendra Krishna Bhadra in the opening of the program. This line laden with poetry is for me one of the most favorite literary lines I have ever come across. In our society where women are shamed, raped, killed, abused and destroyed every day, the recitation invokes the spirit of the goddess in us. Although maa Durga, like Eve created out of Adam’s rib, was born out of the united strength of the great Hindu trinity of Brahma, Vishnu and Maheshwar, she single handedly slew the demon Mahisasura, a Satan like character who was granted the boon of immortality by Brahma, without the aid of the patriarchs (the male gods). The section in the radio program where Birendra Krishna Bhadra narrates the battle between maa Durga and Mahisasur is breathtaking. When the former vehemently cries out that she would destroy the demon, we see Durga, not as a matron, but as an all-powerful woman. We need to draw inspiration from this holy feminist who teaches us the need to take a stand for ourselves, to be ambitious, and not to be restricted within the boundaries of traditional domestic roles. 

This year, like all the previous years, when I finished listening to the radio program yesterday, I found myself brimming with new life. I felt rejuvenated by the antiquated musical program which gave me a new perspective on my life. It is possibly because of our need to jolt our somniferous muses out of their torpor in the subconscious strata of our minds that we cluster around our radio sets and listen to Birendra Krishna Bhadra’s invocation of the mother goddess. May be it is our identification that transports us to our childhood when we listened to it with our parents and grandparents on similar Mahalaya mornings. Whatever the reason is, the octogenarian radio-piece is  a quintessential part of our Bengaliana, and in this era of westernized Indian culture, it is indeed refreshing to see this rite continue and thrive in our cultural crucible. 



Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Home is Heaven on Earth: Part Uno

Sharing with you all some pictures of our home in Delhi. I love eclectic organization; I also have a knack for monochromatic palate. My home, therefore, is a mix-and-max space of both eclectic, multihued decorating style wish a dash of monochrome thrown in here and there.




My favorite corner in my home. This nook houses two of my favorite pieces: the miniature painting from Udaipur, and the antique brass lamp. 


The Dinning Area. The lamp of the table is a traditional brass lamp from Nepal 




The Living Area. The star attraction of this space is my huge framed wall hanging depicting Durga, the mother goddess and her family. 
A Colorful Corner


  





Pictures of our guest room. The thanka is from Nepal.