Kunal Kulbhushan Jaisingh AT#109||The Ascetic - Page 50

Originally posted by: abhiya_12

Hey Lekha aaj sab pae chikni Chameli ka boothsawar hain 😆

Originally posted by: butterfingers99

@Rev waise woh song ab hum sab par bahot suit karta hai!

"note hazaaron ka, khulla chutta karaane aayi." 🤣

Originally posted by: butterfingers99

@Rev waise woh song ab hum sab par bahot suit karta hai!

"note hazaaron ka, khulla chutta karaane aayi."🤣

Originally posted by: Unisha123

kya discussion chal raha he?

Originally posted by: harshu...

Mere OmRu ❤️

Originally posted by: -Lachu-

A- Ascetic.

Nataraja. The ascetic. The one who simultaneously constructs and destructs the universe with his Tandav. The one who dances the eternal dance and burns the world with his all seeing eye. Nataraja -The Lord of Dance. He descended the chisel and hammer onto the marble. A thud echoed across the studio. Focus. He should focus. He ran his long slender fingers over the slight crack on the stone. A single drop of sweat made a line across his forehead and disappeared into his brow.

The Chakra surrounding the form of Nataraja was an essential part of the work. It symbolized the universe, the realm of Nataraja where he is the primal one, where he is the creator and destroyer, the one and all, where he is everything and nothing. His experienced hands shook as he touched the marble to line the path of the chisel. It was also the difficult part, it was excruciatingly painful to render, . He caught a quick breath before he descended the chisel several times into the marble. Focus. One more cut.

He steadied himself . The sound of chisel coming in contact with the marble was followed by a slight crack, then two and then...The structure crumbled down before his feet. His shoulders slumped as the pain of defeat shot up his veins.

Originally posted by: AngelicTomboy

B - Brush

That first time. That first time he held a brush in his hand. Never the one to play with colors, the first time he held a brush was no different. Skeptical towards how he would be, he threw the brush aside only having to pick it up since it was the last gift from his beloved late grandfather. He still remembered his late grandfather's words "Use this brush well Omkara. You will be known by your brush one day"

Being just 7 years old, he couldn't quite understand what his words meant. Deciphering it was totally another thing. But just to try what that brush really did, he pulled out a palet of water colors from below his bed and dipped the brush in it for the first time.

The canvas looking expectantly blank back at him He wiped a delicate stroke that turned into a beautiful curve of red. Smiling, he dipped the brush into another color and made his way through the different curves he could make. His late grandfather's words came into his mind "Life is full of curves, my boy.. Life in itself is a painting. Except that it is you who are the canvas and the painter yourself. You paint your own way. Each curve you make turns into a path destines for you"

And as the last curve was done, a beautiful peacock made its way into the canvas

Originally posted by: abhiya_12

Harshu 🤗

OmRu ayengae iss week mein 😳