Glass bowl with pebbles - Charcoal on paper

Are we really free?

2 quick sketches. 1. The endless wait - charcoal on paper.
2. Horseride - charcoal on paper

No reflection!! Strange isnt it? Charcoal and pastel on paper.

The night that would come - bright colors in my land of fantasy.

Loss - Charcoal and gauche on green tinted paper.

My sketch is an inspiration from Auguste Rodin's work.

Crossing over - Charcoal on tinted paper.

The chill thing!!

The big cart with the sky blue rusty metal cylinder had to be dragged across three little mounds, before you signal at the door – the handicap assistance door to open. With impinging guilt of wrongfully using a handicap privilege, I continue dragging it through the long corridor and after that a right turn. The very healthy manager came there and motioned me to undo the lid of the cylinder. I did that and pushed it in front of him. He put into the light blue sky colored can, a long metal cylinder, a feeling of thunder loomed large over the blue sky.

First, there was a little gurgle, a short hiss and then a long whistling sound followed by white cloudy masses of cool air at the mouth of the can. As he increased the pressure, dancing figures took shape and came out of the metal ‘urn’. A lover’s dance hand-in-hand permeated through the room and then disappeared melting down to fill every nook and corner of the dingy, dusty room. The genie-like little forms followed next. But these were the genies that couldn’t grant a boon or bring back to life the waiting inanimate things in the room…waiting to be unleashed from the dust and the darkness and the dinginess. The genies just moved around, sniggering at their motionless yet hopeful forms before they themselves disappeared.

More shapes out of the metal urn. Hands this time. Many weird shaped hands, grew long fingers or fingernails, I cannot tell, because everything was white. Some of them soldier-like. They made a quick check of the room, to ensure everything was ‘in’ place, while some bigger ones reached up, to inspect the ceiling. One naughty one went up my shirt cooling my exasperated body at once, while trying unsuccessfully to seduce me. It ended with the endless white curls of the beautiful white witch. She had been unleashed but she stayed in the urn as if her lower body was bound to the urn. She danced powerfully, vigourously moving her long white curls, which seemed to grow and grow and curl and curl. The dance lasted a while, as her tresses grew and moved to fill the floor around two pairs of booted feet (mine and his). It was as though she had been blessed with endless flowing silvery-white hair as long as she danced. But then her dance stopped and the hair stopped growing. The witch and whatever remained of her hair dissolved into thin air slowly. I realized the sky blue container was full. I returned, back to my lab, past the three mounds. This time the can was heavier. It was full of liquid nitrogen.

The Thinker - Watercolor on paper.

Rodin's sculpture was meant to depict the Italian philospher Dante Alighiari or just a man struggling with himself.

Homeless man on park bench - charcoal on paper (18X24in)

'Tis but a fading, dying flower,
But with what bliss it dies,'

Robert C. O. Benjamin (1855-1900)

Dying daffodils in blue vase - oil on canvas. These daffodils beautifully adorn my desk though they are dying.

White Deer at Rock City - charcoal on paper. This sketch was made from a picture taken by Ullas at Rock City, Tennessee.