feminism

Hiranya is the golden womb, the fierce tenderness, the cosmic fire, the immortal glow. She is the beginning of stories and the reason stories continue to be told. She is the one who teaches us that in every atom, every breath, every heart, there is a small, unbreakable piece of gold waiting for its fire.

When we learn to see the beauty in everyday women, their strength, their softness, their resilience the world becomes brighter. We no longer crave external approval to feel worthy. Instead, we find power in our own unfolding, and we honor the gentle triumphs that shape us.

The return is not because you are lost, not because you are scared or alone but because something ancient inside you remembers the calling.The darkness humming with the breath, the stone walls curved like the first womb you knew deep inside.

In everyday life, in our daily struggle to survive and thrive, there are a few moments worth pausing, relaxing, and appreciating. What are those? When we are younger, we are eager to grow older; when young, we chase something; and when time slips by, we make failed attempts to remain young.

She is not down to earth — she is the earth herself.She lives by the cosmic truth, connected to the pulse of creation, breathing in rhythm with the soil and the stars. She bleeds with the waxing and waning of the moon, gives birth, nourishes, and transforms seeds into beings that walk this sacred plane. She is the most beautiful manifestation of the five elements — earth, water, fire, air, and ether — fused into a single, breathing cosmos. She is SuraSundari — bold, beautiful

Freed from toil, her body becomes a temple, her senses awake to every touch of water, wind, and sun. The bath is an offering, a dialogue between the self and the cosmos, where every droplet reflects light, life, and possibility.

She walks in the shadows, merging into the forest. All of a sudden, fog descends upon the meadows and hides her from view. She moves like a small rivulet flowing unseen, hidden from everyone’s eyes, deep inside the forest.

She is not down to earth — she is the earth herself. She lives by the cosmic truth, connected to the pulse of creation, breathing in rhythm with the soil and the stars. She bleeds with the waxing and waning of the moon, gives birth, nourishes, and transforms seeds into beings that walk this sacred plane.

प्रश्न कला बोल्ड आहे का नाही, तो नाही. प्रश्न आहे  स्त्रीला स्वतः ठरवण्याचा अधिकार आहे का नाही. कारण जेव्हा ती ठरवते, तेव्हा ती केवळ कला निर्मित नाही करत ती इतिहास घडवत असते.आणि इतिहास लिहून ठेवतो आपण तिला गप्प बसवलं, की तिच्या सोबत उभं राहिलो.

A reflection on art, culture, and the feminine form The Question of “Bold” “Why do you do such bold work?”“Don’t you feel shame in...

There was a time when life was not measured in hours or wealth, but in the rhythm of the heartbeat and the pulse of the earth. Humanity lived naked before the elements—facing hunger, storms, the vast unknown.

What is a fabric or a costume or a fashion ? Names, colours, texture, design changes but the soul remains the same. Just like the primordial mycelium network expanding, communicating and covering the whole earth like a carpet, the grass that covers the bare rocks and decorating them with its green design.

They say — change is one thing, acceptance is another.Life flows endlessly, like a river finding its own path.Yet we hold on to things long gone,Echoes of the past that no longer exist in the present.

A sky darkened with clouds,A wild wind roaring through,And the sea, raging in its own stormy rhythm. In that moody afternoon,The poet...

Whenever I watch paintings or  sculptures from the masters  of medical or ancient Bharat a sense of calm enters into my mind. My gaze travels across the artwork in a rhythm that they have found in nature and poured it into their artwork.

 The world awakens from the sleep when she greets them with her smile. She is the messenger who breathes life into everyone. She is Usha.

She is the one who sings her own tune irrespective of your opinions. She exists on her own vibing with the cosmic music.

थक कर, हार कर, एक दिन तुम आओगे, सब कुछ छोड़, सब कुछ भूल मेरी गोद में विश्राम पाओगे।

I always question beliefs or ideas whenever I feel there is something wrong with what people say and my intuition speaks. We are taught...

दिवस आणि रात्रीच्या सीमेवरती घुटमळणारी ती वेळ. दिवसभराची लगबग संपलेली आणि जरा कुठे उसंत मिळाली असताना सायंकाळ हळुवारपणे येते. कुणाचा तरी जीव