portrait of a woman

dsc04315I did this sketch in may be one of my chauvinistic moods. It depicts the state of women today; how she has become a non-identity in the crush between the modern and the older times. Only if one could understand what I am really trying to say..

PS: Bring the brickbats ppl..

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3 Responses to “portrait of a woman”

  1. Biswajit Mondal Says:

    I don’t know; whether anybody would have told it to you before? I have discovered a new talent inside you. You can be a very good Modern Art painter…I can have a taste of the same from this picture. Have you thought of it before?

  2. axinia Says:

    Vaibhav, I like your idea, however what women do you mean?

    What is see in the West – there seem to be no crash between modern and older times…women are too modern and they completely forgot what they used to be before. At least 99% of them.

  3. vaibhavtiwari Says:

    @ biswajit: thanks, but I seriously doubt what you are suggesting – modern artist ..huh !!

    @ Axinia: No, I was not talking about the West at all. I was referring to the Indian woman; she belongs to my generation, with whom I have grown and shared spaces, with whom I changed in as many ways as she did, but having reached a youthful prime, I find myself comparing her to a very withdrawn, rather unreal image I have in mind, as if some faceless, romantic image of hers got frozen inside my head. When I compare her form today to the one I had saved for so long in my heart, I see a painful aberration. Earlier, she was less than me in some ways; she was more than me in some other ways; now she wants to become me – as fast as I am, as crooked as I am. Lack of a differential seems to diminish my regard for her new form. At most I can respect her only as much as I do myself. I’m quite unsure if that is enough, or required even.
    I know she has done well for her lot, and for the nation. As a liberalist and a feminist at heart, I feel light and proud to see her become my equal (and be recognised as one!). But despite anything, and for the reasons mentioned above, I don’t find today’s woman as desirable as I think she was in my mother’s generation.

    I tried to convey that idea, in as much as I could, in the sketch above.

    PS: All of the above is the opinionated thought of the old chauvinist inside me, who found a pen in one of his melancholic moods. He is not a very close friend, but I consider and regard him as if he were an anguished but intelligent neighbour of mine.

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