Several Half Moons

"Disappointing I was; Like rain on a funeral pyre."

Mon, 12 Dec 2011 20:39:26 +0530

“Disappointing I was;
Like rain on a funeral pyre.”

"Jazz. Backache. Boredom. Cognac, ice swirling clockwise. Pleasure in disguise."

Sun, 11 Sep 2011 02:40:07 +0530

“Jazz. Backache. Boredom.
Cognac, ice swirling clockwise.
Pleasure in disguise.”

- a haiku

"The fishes, they died each contemplating suicide. Let the guilt subside."

Sun, 11 Sep 2011 01:35:19 +0530

“The fishes, they died
each contemplating suicide.
Let the guilt subside.”

- a haiku

Field notes

Thu, 08 Sep 2011 06:47:40 +0530

Waiting for ‘Waiting for Godot’ movie to download.

Discussing the purpose of suicide.

Mistaking betel juice stain for blood.

Mistaking a bleeding wound for a watering hole.

Thinking mosquito nets are bulletproof.

Window shopping for a leash for your neck.

Crying when you don’t find one that fits.

Confusing an anchor with a fishing hook.

Going fishing with it

and coming back with a big catch.

"This is one of those with nothing between the lines. Like life; I suppose."

Thu, 08 Sep 2011 03:20:00 +0530

“This is one of those
with nothing between the lines.
Like life; I suppose.”

- a haiku

Taste of Iron

Fri, 19 Aug 2011 23:19:00 +0530

I stuff my mouth with rusting iron nails
to know what the horse must be feeling.
But I felt nothing.
Perhaps I should nail my tongue with them
then only I can taste it.
But then I wont be able to taste the rain.
So I left it at that.

I sucked the coldness out of those nails
and spit them out, one by one.
Aiming at every other passerby.
They nod at me and leave with a sigh
one said “ yes, this is
one of those things life is made of”

I swallowed the last one with a gulp of breath
If life be made of these,
I need some of it in me.

Korou Khundrakpam 2009

Death Cycles

Fri, 19 Aug 2011 23:18:00 +0530

With every breath, I inhale death.
A whiff of the
soft velvety heavy luke-cold smell of death.
I let it roll inside my body for a while.

I exhale.

A somewhat more sizeable death,
a softer velvetier heavier whiff of breath.

It left me a little more Deathless.

Korou Khundrakpam 2009

Like a jackfruit

Fri, 19 Aug 2011 23:17:11 +0530

Life is like a jackfruit.

He squinted his eyes hard
and looked at life.
At all its intertwined veins
Trying hard to decipher an order.
Hoping with all he is, that he find a reason.
A purpose. A course. An excuse at least.
Life gazed back at him.
Dilated pupils. A blank stare.
Like a paralysed dog. Like an empty well.

Also,
Life is like a jackfruit.

Korou Khundrakpam 27-11-09

Reeding a Pom

Fri, 19 Aug 2011 23:16:04 +0530

He chewed on the extinguished butt of his biri
And preached, perched on a banana tree:

There is a proper way to reed a pom.
It is, in itself, an art form.
Make sure you have a pom healthy and fit.
So that its juices are intact when you reed it.
First bend the spikes along the hole, and see
It needs to be done slow and affectionately!
Now hold it by its wings
And run your feet along its hinge.
Then press the switch beside the roe
With your middle or little toe.
A handful of light will then
Erupt from the tip of its pane.
Store it in a jar till it reddens, in fact
An empty bottle of Old Monk will be perfect.
There you have a pom nicely reeded
It will last you another decade.

And if you think you know of a better device
Please, let me convince you otherwise.

Korou Khundrakpam 27-11-09

"Say the sky is red Say even the fields are red; It’s your blood stained eyes."

Fri, 19 Aug 2011 23:12:04 +0530

“Say the sky is red
Say even the fields are red;
It’s your blood stained eyes.”

- a haiku

A plea

Fri, 19 Aug 2011 23:10:36 +0530

Dear Who,

Lift me up from this senseless heap.
Lift me. Abduct me. Like a UFO
The streets are all knotted together
All the roads leads to the dry well
I have been etching circles on the ground
with my dragging feet

I have traded my skin for sandpaper.
Have dived inside the earth.
Have spat out my soul flying in the air.
I could not hide. nor could I flee

Therefore, please erase me
So that it makes some sense.

Korou Khundrakpam 2009

Betrayals

Fri, 19 Aug 2011 23:09:00 +0530

A brief silence. Music.
Why now?
Yes, I wish I had done it long before.
And all these time, it was all a pretense?
Maybe. But not to you, to myself.
And me? Was I even there in your mind?
You were in my life. In my mind, I wish I knew what is.
You betrayed me!
Reason betrayed me.
A long silence.

Korou Khundrakpam 27-11-09

On how computers get hung up etc.

Fri, 19 Aug 2011 23:07:49 +0530

“See, it’s like this..”
she rolled over and faced him
and went on..
“its like fucking with a condom on.
You are not actually fucking me,
technically you are fucking the condom.”

“So, you don’t really live in this world.
You are not a part of this meaningless arrangement of things.
This playroom of an amnesiac God with an OCD.

You exist inside your own bubble.
You are a matrix of memories and songs and whispers and nostalgia
floating around inside this bubble.

But of course you interact with the world.
You can still see the aforementioned God at play.
(like I said, fucking with a condom on,
but fucking nonetheless.)
A born spectator.

So sit back and relax.
And don’t worry about taking God to a shrink.”

He nods.
Looks at a lump of air somewhere behind her head,
then asks, “and you? where do you live?”

She kept still.
Like a hung up computer.
He waited for her answer.

Still waits.

Korou Khundrakpam 3-11-09

Dreamt

Fri, 19 Aug 2011 23:05:22 +0530

Fled from
the kiss of the wrong.
And I ran down the road.

Past the streets of creation.
Where the houses
open up their walls
and let me peek
at the painters paint.

Along asphalt paths
slippery with my sweat.
Lit by the black sun.
Along treadmills.
Through hamster’s wheels.

Till the black air
tore open
and bled light.

And it rained light.
A pillow. And curtains.
And smile. And guilt.
And everything else.

Korou Khundrakpam 5/01/09

An Ending

Fri, 19 Aug 2011 23:02:00 +0530

Standing at her doorway
you looked down the rainy yellow street.
That once lively, once mellow, and now yellow street.

You placed your ear on your head
and heard your heart open up like an umbrella;
That soft heavy heavy sound.

You have always liked umbrellas.
Specially the black worn out ones;
Like the one you left behind
hanging beside her bed.

And it reminds you now
that you will never get it back.
And it reminds you now;
all else that you will never get back.

Some things in life ends so abruptly.
Things end, but the ending goes on.

And with a throng of umbrellas
opening up inside you,
you walk down the rainy street.

Korou Khundrakpam 18-1-09

Roadwidener

Fri, 19 Aug 2011 22:31:00 +0530

A Roadwidener does just that. It widens roads. I was only six when I first saw a Roadwidener myself. I was walking along the east-dyke when I saw it lazing around sprawled on top of a mound of earth. It was lying perfectly still. I would have thought it was dead if not for its grin and the tongue slipping out from between its blunt teeth occasionally to lick the damp earth beneath. A single lap every five six minutes. I stood there slouched against the earthen wall for about an hour observing it, so I know. In those days they were few in number and very hard to find. So it was natural for a six years old child to be intrigued by an actual sighting of the beast. Far from the uninspired picture of the Roadwidener in my school textbook, seeing this huge beast in real was very overwhelming, what with the rows of booted legs and the perpetual grin on its face. And it was not that it was grinning at me. It didn’t even notice my presence. They are extremely shortsighted creatures, a thing I learnt later on, and its other organs of perception are equally blunt. The grin was a permanent attribute of its face, it remained so whether it was grazing or walking or drowsing off. And it had these long rows of horns sticking out along both sides of its belly. Like the kind of huge ships you see on TV with oars sticking out from both sides of its hull. They looked dirty and worn out, with mud still dripping off from it. It is just back from work perhaps. After quietly observing it for some time I thought I would let it let it rest in peace. Also, I had to reach home before it grew dark.

This is how I first saw a Roadwidener. That was almost twenty years ago and since then, their population has steadily kept on increasing. In fact, since the last few years some people have started voicing their concern about the alarming rise in their number and the impact it may have on our lives. I was never too interested in the validity or even the nature of their concern. But all these years I have been fascinated by the sheer enigma of the beast’s existence! I have spent a fair share of my idle days scouting for a Roadwidener and observing it at length when I found one. It is only since the last three years that I stopped doing so on account of my weakening ankle. I even used to maintain an exclusive sketchbook where I made sketches of the beast from observation. These sketches, now yellowed, are strewn with notes I made on its behaviour. It is again that time of the year when you can’t take a walk around the neighbourhood without passing by at least three of them on the way. They are often seen idly basking in the summer sun. Not that I claim to be an expert in the physiology or behaviour of the beast, but I learnt a thing or two about it from my observations. They are solitary creatures and fiercely territorial. While on the move, and terribly slow they are, it makes a peculiar rattling sound from its huge belly. One would think its rib bones are all broken and hanging like wind chimes inside. Some say it sounds like drum beats, and some like a hailstorm.

How they first came to our village is still a conundrum. Some say they were brought with the influx of migrants from the west. Some discern they have been here since the beginning of mankind, citing primitive charcoal drawings found in the southern caves that vaguely resemble its form. Recently, a rumour is doing the rounds that they are in fact reincarnation of our Gods. And that they are here to save us from our predicament.

The most fascinating of all idiosyncrasies regarding the beast is the Roadwidening Parade. However it is not as much an aspect of the beast as it is of us humans. It is a ritual carried out with much furor and an almost religious zeal. It takes place when the Town Lord decides a particular road needs to be widened to let in a free flow of good fortune. The Parade is led by the Town Lord wearing a grin on his face as a reverence to the Roadwidener. He holds a long barbed leash in his hand. The length of the leash is equal to three fifth of the width of the town along the path of the sun. Next in line is the Roadwidener led by the barbed leash. But the length of the leash is such that there is a span of several days between the times the Beast and the Lord reach a particular place. And by the time the beast arrives, the road would have been properly dug up by the barbed leash like a freshly tilled field ready for sowing seeds. The beast then goes down to work, widening the road like it was born just for that. Its movements brisk and economic, as if guided by an instinctive impulse vital for its survival. One of the fourth cousins of the Town Lord rides on the back of the beast. It is often someone with a tongue black from frequent contact with the leather of black polished boots. He lashes his tongue at the beast in an effort to either push it on or slow it down. I was never too sure about it.

Believers from all over the town gather to witness this ritual which, they are convinced, will bring them great fortune from beyond. They follow eagerly behind the beast as it advances forward. Those who were standing along the path of the Roadwidener either runs off to a safe distance or joins the crowd behind the beast where it is both safe and hopeful. Those who somehow happen to be on the path of the beast are either crushed by the horns on its belly or trampled upon by its rows of booted legs. But it is a rare incident as people themselves are cautious of their life and the Town Lord takes special care to avoid such mishap. At times when such cases arise, it is the general consensus that it be deemed a sacrifice necessary to bring in great fortune to the town.

It is customary for new creatures from outside the town to join the crowd as the parade advances. The people of the town reckon them to be symbolic of the fortune promised of the Parade and, with the consent of the Lord, build shrines all over the town where the creatures are shown reverence and gratitude with offerings of fruits of the town.

Today, after a few years, I am spending a few idle hours again observing a Roadwidener. I am getting a rare chance to examine it closely while it is performing in a Parade. I have taken out an old sketchbook with a few blank pages for the occasion. I am scribbling this on my sketchbook over a cup of red tea sitting on my porch as I watch the beast approaching me with its slow but sure movements, widening our street. From where I am seated I will get, for a few minutes, a view of the beast as close as can be.

To a Three Days Old Child

Mon, 22 Mar 2010 00:16:00 +0530

Little child
Little you know,
That the air you breathe
Is but sighs of thousands.

Shut your eyes tight now,
And don’t yet be fated to see
What we all are fated to be.

But it won’t last long:
You’ll soon see mama’s smile
And her love-wetted eyes.
Then soon you’ll learn to see
The feeble fear in her eyes.

Soon enough, baby will know
What getting scolded is,
And she will wail aloud
In an empty room.

Then our cleaver girl goes to school,
With a big satchel and a running nose,
And she’ll learn to hate
Some jade face iron heart Miss Mem.

And as the sun and the moon
Are busy in the sky;
We’ll find baby is in love
And she’ll be baby no more.

Mama will love her more than she needs
And mama will expect more than she heeds.
And she learns that mama can be harsh.
But baby wont cry now:
Instead, she’d learned
To smile with a sigh.

Then a day comes when
Someone breaks baby’s heart,
And she wont smileAnd she wont sigh.
She gazes at the moonAnd sees a crack in it.

One sunny afternoon,Back from the college,
baby findsSome loved one had died somehow
And baby recalls
The old art of wailing aloud.
As the stream of timeTwists and turns and bends
Around one bent we’ll see
Our baby’s smile
And her love-wetted eyes

Yes, our baby have got
A baby, to cry for
To fight for
To live for

Then her every breath will say a prayer
As mine does now for her:
May it all be different for you.

Korou Khundrakpam 21st dec 2002

"Life is a sunshower. Everything else is just a four letter word."

Sun, 21 Mar 2010 21:52:00 +0530

““Life is a sunshower. Everything else is just a four letter word.””

Proposal for MFA 2009

Fri, 19 Feb 2010 01:31:00 +0530

(~~unrealised!~~ ~~realised at last! anyways it makes perfectly no sense~~ quit!*)

Born in the so called ‘terror’ infected, chaos ridden, pleasant smelling State of Manipur, I was always accompanied with a certain perplexity concerning identity and the ideal. I started questioning the ‘reality’ and purposefulness of our existence since early age. And this has been the driving force of my very life. Art has been like a laboratory where I perform my own personal experiments with truth. Art being a medium, a very apt one at that for me, not only for expression but the very process of synthesis of many of my notions on existence, I started on my quest for the answers to my questions. The most important question being, is my quest even valid?

Having led by my own intrinsic affinity to the visual art, I moved ahead in that direction. However as I questioned the established structure of the art practice I realize the absurdity of the situation. An impasse in which art is enjoyed by only a small elite class. And I started thinking of ways to steer art away from the elitist structure of the present in my own way, towards a more meaningful practice wherein the purpose of the act is fulfilled.
This stand of mine was enhanced considerably by a recent involvement in the publication of a book written by my father. I could not help drawing analogies between the two very refined communicative medium of literature and visual art. An interesting point to be noted here is how literature too was enjoyed by the select privileged few. But the advent of technology brought the printing press which revolutionized the way humanity experience literature. The printing press, along with advanced modes of publication, made it possible for the whole humanity to experience the beauty of literature and instill it in their lives. However, unfortunately visual art didn’t see such days. The very basis of evaluation and perhaps appreciation of visual art is based on an induced scarcity. We have to question the established association of value with scarcity.

Having spent four years of the BFA course mainly in exploring the possibilities of the medium of visual art, I wish to focus on the application of all the knowledge I acquired on understanding and analyzing the potentials of the relation of art with the other facets of human existence. And perhaps see in what ways art can contribute in solving (but first of all understanding the nature of) the varied prevalent modern existential dilemmas. In order to achieve this, I believe we must first bring art out of the “white cube” and into the lives of the people and build a circumstance wherein art is freed from the elitist structure and restore its purpose of communicativeness.

During the MFA program, I would like to experiment with the various techniques made available with technology without compromising the artistic integrity of my works. Moreover I would like to research on; and experiment with radical ways of exhibiting and “publishing” art, the prime motive being to bring art closer to the public and bring about an intimate inter-involvement between the artist and his/her audience.

Thematically, (in fact very related to the technical aspect of my work) I would like to focus on the nature of existence – human and otherwise. Examining the nature of existence both from an anthropological scale and from a very intimately individual point of view. It would be an endeavor to decipher the puzzles of the nature of reality in my own small way.