01/06/2026
There is a specific kind of 3:00 AM loneliness that hits you in front of an empty canvas, where the walls close in and the terrifying uncertainty of the future feels like an anchorless void a heavy, suffocating weight where you have absolutely no idea what is going to happen next. When I hit that wall of total isolation, I didn’t look for comfort; I looked to Varanasi, needing to build something that could never be broken, a raw and bleeding collision of time where the past, present, and future violently coexist on a single canvas. I am painting the ancient stone steps soaked in centuries of human grief, the fierce, crackling orange of the cremation pyres burning right now in the dead of night, and a cosmic, shifting sky where the architecture outlasts the apocalypse itself, mirroring the myth that when the cosmos disintegrates, Shiva holds this city aloft on His trident as the only place left standing. This artwork is the physical manifestation of my own survival, because Shiva doesn’t sit in a pristine heaven. He is the god of the lonely and the wanderers, sitting covered in ash on the burial grounds, completely detached yet entirely aware. When you are stripped of all guarantees and feel entirely alone, faith becomes a raw, fierce scream in the dark, a total surrender to the fire that transforms your isolation into something indestructible; by locking this eternal city into the canvas, I am pouring my own chaos into the stone as a reminder that when the world ends or your own life burns away, the core of who you are cannot be destroyed.
Probably my fav piece that I wanted to share with all of you.