Death and all his friends

Tanmay Nawar

The following drawings are made inspired by the surroundings and people around me. no harm was caused to the surrounding or the people during this process.

death and all his friends

on a tree standing with time and lonliness grew the magic beans and cunning leaves the beans had ecstasy and the leaves had its own smell

On a deserted land filled with silence whispering stories of its past there was a tree out of nowhere only surrounded by tall grass

the snake devouvered the smell and so did the creatures around but the prey werent the beans and the creatures werent the predeators.

. the cunning leaves did its magic attracted the travellers passingby beans worked its escatsy the prey was lost in the night sky

magic beans and the cunning leaves . micron acrylic paint . . . . . .

the story is inspired from a tree at my native place which is believed to house a snake inside it’s trunk the tree and the snake is worshipped by the villagers there is a yearly sacrifice made by the villagers for the snake even though no one has seen the snake they say it slithers the streets of the village at night warding off the evil the snake is called ‘vadhval’ in marathi.

and I keep writting these songs over and over as I keep getting older, with you.

Acrylic paint Charcoal Micron.

.

finding asthetic tics in this absurdity

finding asthe

s in this absurdity

these lines confine my thoughts these bland colours don’t understand...

I have grown up around alot of women as many of us have. Some strong some not so strong. Working women. Housewife’s... sorry Homemakers. My sister. My mother. My uncle’s daughter who was more of a mother to me when my mother wasn’t around. And my aunt who I called “Aai” which means Mother. Aai married my Baba(uncle) when she was very young as many of the girls at her age did. Baba was into Army and was away most of the time. Aai busy taking care of the household and her two daughters.

We use to live almost next door to Aai Baba. Close enough that I would throw a tantrum every night and my dad use to carry me to their place so I could sleep next to Aai. And no night was complete without a bedtime story. Most of them being Mythologies. Either a excerpt from Mahabharata or Ramayana. Stories about love and betrayal. Maybe too mature for a five year old but interesting enough to fuel his imagination. She was a story teller and her stories have stayed with me even though we moved out to a new place. Now we don’t meet that often and I guess I don’t need stories anymore to put me to sleep. But that’s the beauty of these storytellers I guess. They have their stories with them when noones around. I guess they were there when Baba wasn’t around. They are a part of her no one can take away.

empty 14x23.6cm pencil acrylic

mom 14x23.6cm pencil acrylic

meh. .

18x11.5cm handmade paper photoink pencil

meh. .

18x11.5cm handmade paper photoink pencil

meh. .

18x11.5cm handmade paper photoink pencil

all about last night

Call me friend but keep me closer And I’ll call you when the party’s over

Call me friend but keep me closer And I’ll call you when the party’s over

he left the tap open. . micron

Do you touch me the way I think you do?

Do you undress me to only see what lies beneath this skin...

Do you play with my hair to only understand the way I think...

Is the kiss on the forehead to comfort those haywire thoughts Who are afraid of the darkness around them..

Do you run your fingers on my spine to feel the scars... The way you bring your face closer to my chest...to listen to the silence of this empty soul...

Do you? The way I feel your breath

When it’s closer to my lips, Read them without me saying what I want to...

Do you just look into my eyes or stare in the depths of its sadness...

.

A5 sketchbook micron ink soft charcoal.

take off your clothes get naked fill up the tub, keep the water running say your final goodbyes hold it in your right, put your left forward slit mine, i slit yours make the cut deeper over and over again don’t look down look into my eyes breathe.... over and over again make the cut deeper.... let the tub overflow don’t look down look into my eyes breathe....till you can.

.

A5 sketchbook micron

our minds distort our mirrors...

.

A5 sketchbook micron. pencil.