A Ramachandran is one of India's most distinguished and prolific artists who has ceaselessly experimented with visual language for more than five decades. His art is uniquely both contemporary and Indian in essence. Painter, sculptor, graphic artist, designer and art educationist, Ramachandran has explored diverse mediums and scales with a dynamic personal vision and distinctive artistic

Kunal Nayyar and Neha Kapur give us a peek inside their L.A. digs

Swissnex in India, in collaboration with SwitzerlandIndia75, hosted the two renowned architects, Peter Zumthor and Bijoy Ramachandran, to discuss bilateral perspectives on architecture in an open format, on February 22, 2024.

(Painting by Shibu Natesan- All images are for illustration purpose only) ‘It’s you, oh Lord,” pouting her lips In disparage and contempt Says Ahalya to an astonished God Who was out there in his own exile. ‘It was not you whom I waited All these years for the redeeming touch. Why couldn’t he come, the one With his mighty word and sword? Benevolent as he is always asks the Lord Why the redemption of stone did not amuse her; The deliverance, a thing to cherish and nourish? He probes with his bow like eye brows. Thus speaks Ahalya her story Of Eternal love and desire that had appeared As carnal pleasures and lusty sin In the eyes of those who did not care a bit. The forest was glorious In the spring’s caress Blushing like a bride The trees brought forth Flowers on their branches. Evening, filled with the Songs of birds and spirits, A mild sun painting sky with Differing hues of orange and red Filled unfulfilled desires in her. The great sage had gone to the ghat To do his evening ablutions and prayers As a good wife it was her duty to stay Within the hut and recited mantras For the benefit of the worlds and unsure gods. Within the closed eyes and quivering lips Praises of gods and the eternal spirit She saw the paths of serenity And in the midst she saw under the Canopy of desire, her man standing and waiting. II (Painting by Shibu Natesan) He is always there, thought she Shaking off her fears and doubts And the duties of a sage’s wife Cannot wander like a fox in the bushes, She knew that for sure but how could She help herself when love defeated All proprieties of a devoted wife? She has been pushing his form away From her mind and soul for long Failing day in and out, it was just duty That took her all along with the one Who had vaulted her life in sagacious virtues. Each time he appeared as if from nowhere; She knew he came through clouds Through the eyes of peacock feathers In the wind that blew from the hills By the song that river sang to her Behind the bowers and at the top of the trees From the tip of a dream that stayed He came each time to her With passion filled eyes and an enigmatic smile. Were those intrigues enough Those bodily pulls strong To capture a woman who had spent Eons with a sage who breached no trust But never loved the way the one could have loved? She asked herself several times. Scriptures that she recited Reiterated wifely duties, Day in and day out she should be the faithful Following like a shadow of her husband In words, deeds and the killing of desires. III (Painting by Shibu Natesan) She had slept on the cold floor She had sat in the middle of five fires She had lied on the thorny bed She had spent days without food She had repeated the words That her husband told her She had sounded his thoughts To the trees, streams and unsuspecting fauns. Not even once the man asked Whether she wanted anything More than the prayers and wisdom. He left her all alone for days end When he went to give light To the kings who were waging Hopeless wars for women and gold. She remained true and faithful And each time the desirable one appeared She averted her eyes to the vast lands of Dried off dreams lay within her mind. IV (Painting by A.Ramachandran) In the form of the sage he came on that day, Say the lore and histories written And sung by those who want it to be, So that they could protect the fame of a sage Who was mired in his anger and impotency. He had not come in the form my husband, Weak, angry and complaining for Gods abandoning him always but Adamant in pleasing them by his Eternal penances and recitals. He had come in his own form, So beautiful, alluring and desirable Stood he there at the door step Without violating even an inch That the domestic sanctity had drawn. He was so gorgeous to look at And his eyes held the pain of abandoning. His lips complained and uttered the loving Words against me for keeping him long. I was dumbstruck and numb Could not say that I was duty bound If I loved him back the heavens would break And the world would fall apart in war and pestilence. They say if a sage’s woman desires a man Whom she loves and craves for union The world would stop and kingdoms would fall, On this lie they had made empires And made special jails for women in gold and silver They still remain like caged birds That have forgotten the songs of love. V (Painting by A.Ramachandran) He held my hands and thousand Forests bloomed at once Eagles flew all over the sky Spreading their shadows below As if they were the blessing hands of gods And all those women suffered for their vows. Along the spring we walked In silence but hand in hand I knew the throbbing of his veins And the blood that carried his pains. We looked at the sky that I had been seeing For ages with an angry sage But it looked so different and beautiful I thought it was a new sky. We walked in the unknown forest paths Laden with flowers, grass and moss Animals looked at us in wonder Some of them started playing yonder. Butterflies followed us everywhere While we shared our stories there. We did not indulge in carnal pleasures. But he, like a peacock of thousand eyes Looked at me as if I were the first woman Who he was looking at for the first time. He looked at me as if I was first time being looked at And I felt so happy. His touch sent me to the heavens that had not been Mentioned in the scriptures that I was reading all around. He took me to the visions that no god had promised He took me to the beauties that no poet had written. When he kissed me for the first time I shivered like a flame under a breeze When he held me close to his chests I became a wild fire under a storm. Words that had never existed or I thought so Rolled out of my tongue that was touching his Scriptures and sagacious words disappeared As if they were ghosts shying away while day break. VI (Painting by A.Ramachandran) We were like two souls walking along A river of dreams and desires We were like two story tellers telling Stories that remained untold for long. We were like two eagles in the sky Scaling heights and playing our might. We became two children caught by An innocent Game that they had just discovered. We sang songs that never existed And on my nape he exhaled a tune of love. Along my back his fingers flew Writing a pact that never broke. Writhing in happiness like a swan That about to take off from its watery abode, I held onto him as if he was the air that I breathed. Time I did not know existed, space Was nothing but him who filled all. Each pore in me thrived in ecstasy And it was not just for an evening’s Pleasure, but a pact eternal sealed by lips. Oh Lord, you may call it carnal pleasure Unbridled desires of a wanton woman History would worship me for my patience That made me to wait for your touch, they say. Call it anything, desire or bodily pleasures Love or pact or anything that you like. But it was my deed conscious and aware I knew that I was willing to surrender. It was not his cunning tactics It was not his arrogant attitude It was not his salacious words It was not his darting eyes That sent more than one message at a time It was my love and my longing And my conscious decision to be with him That led me to his arms and I am so happy That I did though I paid for it being a stone. VII (Painting by A.Ramachandran) He came in and he saw us I don’t remember it was a bad scene He might not have even imagined That his sagacious wife could be So abandoned and happy in the Hands of a man who shone like Indra. He became aware of his shortcomings In that moment of confrontation People say ‘we were caught in a Compromised position, what a fun’. We were not in a compromising position But I had taken a decision on my life It was my deed and my word and I was Fully aware of the love that I made. The confrontation for him was Like the striking of vajra, that he could not stand. He looked at my beloved With his raging eyes. I could see his impotent rage Not for his wife went loose But for he could not dam that river That he did not know flowed in her. He thundered like a wounded animal Threw curses at my beloved, who Stood almost unchallenged and daring. I will take her along with me For I will adore her as my wife I will never come to your vicinity And will never hurt your sanity. He was polite, but not desperate, For a moment I thought that Two men were making a bargain on me. I hated them both at once but then recovered As I could not hate my man, my love Who then was standing the rage of a sage. “Be a sahasra yoni”, a man of thousand vaginas Cursed my legal husband of sagacity And my man, my beloved and my only love Turned into a man with yonis all over his body. They say he was filled with shame, But I would say he should have been filled with pride For it was my yoni imprinted on him As a seal of love and my devotion for him. Why should he be shameful? How could that piece of my body Which is craved by each man on the earth And fight wars to possess it, Violate it whenever they get a chance Burn it ruthlessly for dowry Lech at it at dreams and literature, Be a shameful one; shouldn’t it be a thing of pride Worn by a man who won it by labour. But for the world, something of power Of a woman in love is a dangerous thing. One should curse someone with the Most fearful thing so that they could Secretly enjoy it and put the other in shame. What a shame, oh Lord. But what a beautiful day it was, oh Lord. My man went into exile I don’t have a clue where he has gone. Perhaps, in future the stories and histories Would say that he was rescued by other gods. Aren’t they too males, Oh Lord, like you That they want their man back and manhood restored For the peace and permanency of the world, Oh Lord. But I heard the sage cursing me: “Be a stone, an unfeeling rock Lie their abandoned like a bad memory And wait for your deliverance When in Tetra Yuga, the Lord of Lords Come in your way, still not knowing his destiny.” And with a smile I took the curse. I grew into a stone and I remember The last thing I saw then was The beautiful face of my man, my beloved With a reassuring smile in his eyes; My eyes turned into two pieces of granite. VIII (Take me Where I Belong- a painting by Shibu Natesan) Is it like that, oh Lord, in your Land You turn your women into stone If they exercise their free will And stand up for their rights? Asks Ahalya, her eyes still wandering for her beloved. The Lord, shocked by the severe utterance Of the woman who had just come out of the stone Looked at her with a sense of reverence. In a flash, history came before his mind And he knew that it was Ahalya and Releasing her from the spell of curse Was his duty which he now performed. Gods know what they should say When they redeem the cursed ones From their dormancy and bring them into life But here he remained silent Not knowing what to tell this woman Who had spent a stone’s life Just for a glimpse of her lover. “Curse me back to stone, oh Lord,” says she For she wants to be with her man Or she prefers a granite life to the one She has just got as a boon. Bewildered Lord looks around, Lakshman averts his eyes, Sages with them hang their head in shame For now their tribe is brought to trial. Trees look at Ahalya in anticipation Birds stop chirping, Grass hangs from the mouth of deer A drop of tear stays frozen at her right eye. Then she looks around, calls out his name With his name echoing from the innards of forest She walks into it, into the darkness of the unknown A furrow appears deep down there Drenched in light and fragrance. Ahalya walks into it and into a new world. And today she is everywhere In every household, every library Every street, every office, every studio Every work place and make up rooms Disparaging the touches of a benevolent lord A sagacious husband who leaves her dry She is eternally looking for a world That does not turn her into a stone Exercising her free will and desire.