I began these mindful drawings in a fragile, unsettled state of mind. My thoughts felt scattered, restless, overlapping, too many at once. So I picked up colours and let them move without planning, without forcing sense or structure. I didn’t try to control the flow; I let the flow carry me. As the colours settled, so did parts of me.
While doing this, a thought stayed with me: Is this even anything? Later, that thought came back through others. Some asked, “What kind of painting is this?” Some said, “It has no meaning.” Some looked longer, trying to extract logic, trying to name it, trying to make sense of it. Others simply found it beautiful.
I noticed how familiar this felt. How people always want to define, label, approve, or dismiss. How art becomes a mirror for their own need to understand or control. And I realised, this is not new. This is human nature.
But this wasn’t made for explanation. It was made for survival. For breathing. For letting my scattered thoughts land somewhere gentle
I don’t need everyone to understand it. I don’t need to defend it. People may say so many different things. They always will. And what we need to do is to continue to do what we do, quietly, honestly, and with care! That’s enough!
And somehow, in the midst of all this, these paintings reside in a foreign land, resting there with a grace that still surprises me!
Toruna walks almost every day with her son. These walks are special for her, a time to breathe, notice, and listen to the stories unfolding around. Every face, every moment on the street seems to whisper something to her heart. Walking makes her more thoughtful, more aware of life’s small wonders and struggles …
One evening, on their way to the park, Toruna noticed a tiny woollen cap lying on the road. She stopped and told her son, ‘Maybe a mother was carrying her sleeping baby on her shoulder, and while walking home, the little cap slipped off without her noticing. And then when she reached home and saw it missing, she must have felt sad, that cute little cap of her dear child is lost!’ Her son smiled and said, ‘You’re such a storyteller, Mom.’
They both laughed and kept walking.
But Toruna’s eyes continued to wander, always finding small stories hidden in everyday life …
Near the park gate, she saw twin toddlers quarreling over lollipops, their mother watching with an amused smile. One of the twins looked a bit grumpier, & Toruna observed the mother gently scolding and laughing at the same time ….
A few steps ahead, a woman in niqab (a veil on her face) walked alone on the footpath. She seemed quiet, almost wrapped in her own thoughts. Perhaps she was returning from a long day at work, thinking about bills, groceries, and what to cook for dinner. Her steps were slow, her shoulders slightly bent, as if she was carrying more than just the weight of her bag. There was a sadness about her, the kind that comes when life feels heavy but must still move on. Watching her, Toruna remembered that she would be going for Umrah soon, and wondered if she might wear a niqab then too. The thought lingered as she walked on …
Near the park bench, Toruna saw a dead butterfly, its wings still beautiful, though still. She picked it up gently and showed it to her son who looked at it with curiosity, helped her to put it on the height of the side wall!
As they were walking, Toruna observed that two elderly men walked slowly side by side, leaning on their canes and talking as if the world belonged to only them. Their laughter carried softly in the air. Toruna thought about how friendship, even in old age, keeps the heart alive, how sharing stories can make time feel lighter … she wondered what might be the topics of their laughter!
Then, not far from them, a young girl crouched near the edge of the grass, feeding milk and biscuits to a few stray cats. The cats purred and brushed against her legs. Her sweet smile warmed Toruna’s heart, a small act of kindness in a noisy world …
A little further ahead, a young mother struggled with her two small children, one crying, the other running away. Toruna smiled at this sight of this young mother, remembering her own early days of motherhood. How young she had been, and ever since then, how her children had become her entire universe …
She and her son walked side by side, sometimes talking, sometimes silent. These walks had become their little ritual, good for both their minds and hearts …
That evening, they noticed a young boy walking slowly around the park. He looked a bit overweight and tired. Toruna said, ‘I’ve been watching that boy for a while.’ Her son nodded, ‘Yes, he comes here often. I’ve seen him too.’ Toruna felt a sadness for him. ‘I hope he feels better soon,” she said, ‘Life gives everyone some struggle that other people can never understand’ ….
As the sun began to fade, they left the park, stopping by the nearby general store to buy a few things before heading home. Toruna smiled to herself, ‘Tomorrow we’ll come again,” she thought, and surely, the path would have more stories waiting to be found …
#roksanatales
.
.
Have you ever wondered, how many stories pass by us each day, unnoticed?
She no longer fears missing out, for she has learned that what’s meant for her will never pass her by. While the world rushes to chase trends, gatherings, and noise, she finds peace in her own rhythm. Her joy isn’t borrowed from what others are doing, but born from the satisfaction of being present where she is …
She doesn’t measure her life against anyone’s timeline. She knows that every soul blooms in its own season. She would rather miss a hundred fleeting moments than lose the one that truly belongs to her …
For her, the real richness lies not in being everywhere, but in being whole, right where she stands …
#roksanatales
.
.
.
When was the last time you felt at peace simply by being where you are?
Blooms glow … Hope is in petals bright Nature promises in breeze …
#roksanatales
Part of my morning rituals are spent in my little varandah garden! It refreshes me …. Love the sound of the chirping birds, the warm light, smell of the wind and greens and flowers … Some days I read here with a glass of warm honey water and some days a cup of tea … with a little conversation … These days are Ramadan days, the most blessed days and I’m healing from my broken finger …. I hope it’ll be alright soon … and everything too
Ma Belle! Live upon the moonlit skies, The place of hope and butterflies …. Be well pleased with your passionate eyes; Be right there…. And stare at the Gods with proud gaze Be praised and praise …
Ma Belle! You roundly speaker, When you see any betrayal, Don’t you shed tears ….. You get going, keeping head high Without any fear …
Ma Belle! Let all the new faces play, With the tricks they sure will; Let all those pass away… You be calm, quiet and still; If these be right Of day and night, You be chilled and chill.
Ma Belle! Those images that may Gather all the talk of doom, But you think not of a single evil chance; Play out all of your dream so fair, With the host of the air You be heard and hear and dance …
Ma Belle! Until imagination brought It was only a thought, But keep your integrity … Let it be for what it is; They were dead and of a different kind, You be weighed lightly and just don’t mind …
Ma Belle! Pull down the blinds in pride, You be in your country-side; Where the sky falls kissing the earth, On the balance of the wind….. You take a lovely ride Like a new smiling bride ….
Ma Belle! My sweet little Belle! You be known for the care you give And discover the forgotten truth; Your heart is your heart what it should be, That hasn’t changed in years from youth …
The cosmos is within us The dance is absolutely amazing Abundantly fabulous …
Imagination is great For the knowledge we possess The inner child returns to find A new era of time … Becoming a wild free soul, fabulous …
The soul has the rhyme From the time it’s born … Listen to the Talisman of your own, Daydreaming in this cosmic energy, Travelling to the worlds, fabulous …
Let the universe find The questions you have, The answers you need – All are dwelling inside Waiting for a spark to Find its magic, fabulously powerful … A new pathway to excellence…
You belong to the mysterious space Your dreams are coming back to you There’s a song called cosmic abyss From the beginning to eternity The eternal flame, that’s fabulous …
#roksanatales
Jijivisha/ hindi (n.) jijivisha is the intense desire to live (or continue living) in the highest sense of being …
A humble video of JBC Paintings Prints on white ambush A4 paper (300gsm).
You are like a music Which creates melancholic moods inside my heart … A melody that lingers, night and day … I take time to listen to it, I find myself enchanted; When nothing seems to ease my restlessness I listen to you, my music To walk the long journey of life Even though it only creates melancholic moods But you are like that music to me Loving, healing, heart-touching Connecting my soul to you Forever and always ….
Life is somewhat grey Everywhere Just monotony Lost and lonely …
Don’t you know?
Only when you stay Life is colorful …. A hopeful glow Echoes of brighter joy Birds sing cheerful songs Rays of sunshines warm my cheeks My yellow dyed dreams return …
I haven’t met you I haven’t seen you But often I feel a home in you …
.
.
.
#roksanatales
Where the glacier meets the sky, the land ceases to be earthly, and the earth becomes one with the heavens; no sorrows live there anymore, and therefore joy is not necessary; beauty alone reigns there, beyond all demands”-
I dreamt of walking On mountains And I dreamt of meeting You ….
Here I’m walking On the lands of magical mountains … High above the crowds and the clouds, Under the ancient pine trees I’m in its close embrace .. Surrendering to the magnificence … Believe, I could see nothing In the thread of mist Caressing the wind Everywhere I see You …
Only you …
#roksanatales
Heart full of gratitude for this gift of being alive to see the magnificent heavenly beauty by The Divine.