पावसाळ्याचा अवखळपणा जाऊन वातावरणातील रुजलेली थंडी. हालचाली गोठविणारी निळीशार पहाट आणि नदीवरती पोहणारी धुक्याची अजून एक नदी. सूर्याच्या पहिल्या किरणासोबतच वितळत वातावरणाशी एकरूप होत आसमंत पवित्र करणारे जल त्या मंदिराला साक्षात स्वर्गरूप प्रदान करते. काळ्या पाषाणाला जिवंत करणारे ते हात पंचतत्वात विलीन झाले तरी रोज सूर्यकिरणांच्या रूपात पुन्हापुन्हा त्याच्या सर्वांगाशी खेळत त्याला जल स्नानसोबत सूर्य स्नान देखील घडवितात. आणि एके दिवशी अचानक हेमंत ( हिवाळा ) संपून शिशिरात संक्रमण

Kāma, as the third पुरुषार्थ ( Puruṣārtha ) is a strong pillar of society, yet it is mistaken as lust. When pushed into secrecy, it deranges us silently and creates a crippled, damaged society. Kāma is the original expression from Bindu a potent and powerful seed that bursts and creates an entire life ( स्फोट ).

She is a river of bliss, flowing eternally. She glows as she twists and turns, taking even the hardest souls on her wild currents and smoothing them with the gentle brush of time. She is sensual, curvy, soothing, and at times ferocious according to the moment. Yet this eternal flow often rises within beings as the feminine itself. She awakens what has long been still, stirring what is capable of blooming but afraid to move. She arouses you in mind and body, and the ancient se

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.

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.

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.

What we’re making is not just art to be “looked at” — it’s something to be felt slowly, like poetry unfolding. We want to bring you closer to a time when love, dance, poetry, and celebration were a natural part of life. A time when women were honoured as sacred, when festivals like Vasant Utsav filled both villages and palaces with joy, and when beauty was not the tool of capitalism but seen as something sacred and beyond the physical.

Can we celebrate life without inhibition? The cold wind wrapping around the body as fabric, the delicate designs of water droplets drawn by clouds, each drop trickling down the spine—this is the thrill of living each moment fully in the present. To be part of divinity like a baby who knows no shame, no guilt, only trust in the arms of nature.

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...

The earth is not mere soil; she is Prithvi, Bhūmi Devi, mother, healer, womb of fertility. To coat the body in her clay is to surrender, to remember our origin, to feel her warmth press against the skin like memory itself. Washed clean, the body glows with a radiance no artifice can imitate. Mruttika Snan is love upon the body, a sacred, sensual surrender—a celebration of raw, divine beauty.

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.

Photography is the younger sibling of sculpture and painting.What the eyes have seen, what stirred the heart, what awakened a feeling, all of it is captured through this medium, woven together with science and art.

An ancient rock looks like dragon egg on the bank of the ferocious ocean and dark skies is all a terrific combination. It was tempting to create a visual art through body movements and fabric.

A tribute to the forest enchantress NEELA who is still alive in the minds of millions across India. Villages where she is mentioned in bedtime stories or by the fireside. The seductive, beautiful and powerful demigoddess who rules the interior of forest where no one dares to venture.

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.

The flow of the universe comes to us in the form of various states of the objects. Some seen others that can be felt. The senses makes things to be felt. And the things from which we derive pleasure become sensual. The play of life happens through ancient primordial sound. We call it Naad. The interaction of the Bindus ( dots / atoms ) and their dance creates the magical sound. 

A continuous stream of energy flows down from the mountaintop into the valley. She is gentle yet incredibly powerful—an elemental force both sensual and fierce. Refreshing, cold, and full of life. She cannot be owned, yet she lives within all of us.