Retracing Home / LOPF 2026

Retracing Home
in Moments of Being

Anuj Daga

reflection upon the works of artists who presented at the London Original Print Fair 2026

Co-curated by Asha Vaidyanath and Shivangi Ladha, 14 - 17 May 2026
participating artists Benjamin Deakin, Kumari Khushboo, Shivangi Ladha, Ian Malhotra, Radha Pandey, Jo de Pear, Mila Rae Sarabhai, Scherry Shi, Nalinakshya Talukdar, Asha Vaidyanath, Adia Wahid

Home is an unsettling territory. In a world marked by accelerated change, migration, and the turbulence of war and displacement, home becomes less a stable destination than an evolving condition—something lost, carried, rebuilt and reimagined. The question of home is one that art continually returns to, perhaps because home itself is never fixed. At the London Original Print Fair 2026, the India Printmakers’ House brings together eleven artists whose works expand ways of imagining dwelling in distance. To dwell is to make meaning of one’s situational and material choreography, and orient oneself to new coordinates of being in time. In this cohort, the artists broadly articulate their works under the themes of landscape as memory, environment as time, exploring location and setting and lastly those that connect to the deeper structures of the self.


Landscape as Memory

Scherry Shi, Landings I, 2026, Cyanotype, 39.9 x 39.9 cm

The faint fluidity of skies and waters of her hometown are encapsulated in the noir cyanotypes of Scherry Shi as she takes us in a dream-like landscape of memory. Printed through light on generations old handkerchiefs of her friend’s grandmother, the artist explains how “embroidered handkerchief is one of a few personal properties that women could keep for themselves as assets in history, especially in patriarchal China.” As we observe distinct moments of a quiet wooden bridge over a lake, or the space between two apartment buildings framing the sky through the domestic life oozing out of their windows, we realise that these hold special place within the memoryscape of the artist. The artworks are then daydreams on a veil - a translucent window through which we are teleported into another world that is distant, but brings it close.

Radha Pandey, Artist Book, Deeptime, 2017

Radha Pandey’s work crafts contours onto paper to fold an eroding topography of the mountains and the water bodies onto each other. The works in themselves are cross-sections of time where in the rise and fall of sea levels and shifting terrains become more apparent. Presented in the form of a book, these artworks allude to hidden knowledge revealed only during the close reading of these specific chapters. It is here that the printed letters beyond a veil of colour become visible, demanding a discovery of a lost world. The contours lines drawn in pencil around these three textures attempt to bring the sky, water and land onto an equal plane of cartographic reading, making us conscious about the fragility and precarity of landscapes in the face of climate change.

Nalinakshya Talukdar, Unsearch Home, 2023, Woodcut, 120 x 65 cm

Coming from Assam, Talukdar imagines inhabiting nature as his home where the skies, woods and waters meet, creating multiple crevices between their thresholds to offer experiences of nature, in one’s private hiding. However, interjecting each other in colour and form, where the continuities of contours are disrupted, the artists suggest the disjunctures that modern life brings about through man made acts. Mountains fold within themselves the woods that eventually lend resources to construct modest homes. At the same time, the mountain ice melts into its rivers - an idyllic ecological landscape appears continuous yet disjunct in the artist's prints.

 
Environment as Time

Ian Malhotra, Waterfall I, 2026, Etching, 82 x 57 cm

Ian Malhotra and Jo de Pear traverse time through their print creations as they bring us to inhabit spaces that could be culturally shared or deeply personal. For instance, The Waterfall series of Ian Malhotra creates a clever LED-screen like illusion through the older etching technique. Malhotra makes innumerable fine vertical lines through his work that not only slice the image into extremely small parcels, but also begin to lend the water its essential “fall” in the print. The image is held in the tension of the hard and the soft, the dark and light, the solid and fluid through a mere orchestration of the horizontal and vertical lines of the composition. Moreso, the etched lines bring a destabilising depth to the movement of water, alluding to the early screen animations of waterfalls. In retro-technologizing of image, Malhotra makes us dive into multiple representational worlds that we may have seen across over centuries, in a single glance.

Jo de Pear, Echinoidea I, 2025, Photopolymer, 64 x 54 cm

Jo de Pear invites us to take a microscopic look at the surface of the sea urchin - something that she has been observing and collecting through the encouragement of her biologist mother since childhood. Following the obsession of the early naturalists of the 1800s, the artist produces substantial cyanotypes using hard-touch photopolymer prints that expose the hidden patterns and geometries that might escape the breezing gaze. By holding time in the enlargement of these shells, de Pear produces an immersive landscape that allows the viewer to escape into another world, much like her own self. She admits, “I sort of look at them as like lunar landscapes, the bumpy surface.” The collapse of scale and time within the work of the print allows the artist (and eventually the viewer) to parse distant geographies and experiences within a single moment.

 
Of Location and Setting

Mila Rae Sarabhai, Endless, 2025, Photopolymer, 37 x 27 cm

Using photopolymer etching, Mila Rae Sarabhai captures everyday moments from her hometown in the city of Ahmedabad (India) onto paper. The close reading of the photographs turned into prints in bare black and white focus on form and light that are forever frozen in time. As architecture, people and shadows merge in the monochromaticism of these granular prints, they evoke a soft feeling of ruin and decay. The prints highlight the disintegrating particles of matter, merely held together in time. These impressionistic flashes of a place remain as a fading trace of memory within which the mind is allowed to wander slowly.

 

Benjamin Deakin, Calibrator, 2022, Pigment print, 50 x 58 cm

Positioning the viewer inside a mountain-top house and inviting them to sit before a stunning view of ice-covered peaks, bringing them to rest their hands on a kitschy, plastic-covered dining table and eyes drifting to half-closed yellow curtains—Benjamin Deakin highlights the stark contrast between the pristine landscape outside and the garish domestic interior. It is as if we are placed in a moral confrontation between the natural and the manmade. But the narrative flips if we imagine this picturesque view existing only as a framed photograph inside the home. Then the wall decorations, curtains, and table covers begin to feel like extensions of a distant, beautiful landscape absorbed into the clutter of everyday life. These shifting, mirroring relationships are thoughtfully rendered through his use of pigment print and acrylic on paper. The future and the past murkily reflect within the unclear transparency of the plastic sheet on the dining table onto which the artist invites the viewer to sit upon and ponder.

 

Km. Khushboo, The Way of Living, 2024, Etching, 53 x 66 cm

Khushboo Kumari’s etching on paper engages with the ways in which individuals make and remake boundaries around them to be able to define their own world. The frugal, sublime and gentle form of this enclosure suggests the soft and flexible nature in which it imagines containment that is bound to evolve and change. A single opening apparent on the layered surface leaves room for the other to enter or the self to depart. Yet, the tension of the space inside remains in suspense and compactly held within the architecture of the fence. Her work acknowledges how both - the location and the self - constantly make and remake each other and remain in a state of flux.

Adia Wahid, The Glyph I, 2026, Hand carved wood blocks, 12x16 cm

In the work of Adia Wahid, patterns unfold as both structure and speculation, reassembling into fields of quiet complexity. Her visual language draws from a kind of mathematical syntax, where forms do not merely repeat but evolve through their encounters. Shapes overlap, interlock and generate new configurations, suggesting a world composed not of singular orders but of multiple, coexisting logics. There is something proto-Escheresque here—not in illusion, but in the recursive play of form, where each intersection becomes a site of invention. Hidden syntaxes emerge in the meeting of two geometries, as if each form carries a latent script that only becomes legible in relation to another. Wahid’s practice dwells in these moments of interaction where order meets deviation, and where the space compresses and releases into new worlds.

Asha Vaidyanath, Love Letter II (longing), 2026, UV Print on handwoven paper, 35 x 30.5 cm

Asha Vaidyanath splits the solidity of the image as she prints them on loosely woven linen making reality vulnerable. As they fragment and slip through the gaps of the woven fibre, the images become more delicate and fragile. This breaking is not a rupture but a methodical outcome of the weave’s systemic construction, exposing the fragility within systems themselves. The work evokes a sense of bandaging—are these surfaces holding a broken world together, or allowing it to stay apart? In either case, they permit permeability, letting things pass through the medium, while situating the image within a subtle, underlying grid. Strands of linen at the ends of the cloth sometimes left loose suggest a compulsive coming together towards the making of new world in Vaidyanath’s imprinted imageries.

Shivangi Ladha, In The Fold of Night, 2025, Etching, 84 x 124 cm

Shivangi Ladha, In Her Movement Sky Remembered II, 2025, Monoprint, 49 x 58 cm

How many varied selves does the body contain? Shivangi’s works often evoke a dialogue between the individual and the collective, the self and the other, and the other within the self. When one looks at her etched aquatint, a seemingly singular body appears to be looped into a state that simultaneously awakens to consciousness and slips into a dream. It is in these repetitive acts that we process the manifest world, where the home appears between the real and the imaginary. Is this the same body, or merely the accumulation of collective consciousness of several bodies? The self extends into the environment to make it a part of this very home, where bodies cling to each other to embrace and protect the silent world around. In its unique pairing of the two works, one is compelled to rethink the contemporary and figure the right state to witness it. Which pasts and which presents must one inhabit? Which time and which place shall we afford to exist? Ladha’s works keep pushing us to think about these questions constantly in relation to the world at large.

Taken together, these eleven practices remind us that home is not simply where one begins, nor only where one arrives. It is an ongoing act of composition—made through memory and forgetting, through landscapes altered by time, through objects carried across borders, and through the fragile architectures of the self. In printmaking especially, where impressions are transferred, layered, repeated and reversed, the medium itself becomes an apt metaphor for dwelling in the contemporary world: identities are pressed by history, marked by movement, and continually re-formed through contact. If displacement defines much of our present moment, these artists respond not with nostalgia alone, but with invention. They show that home can survive as trace, as question, as relation and as a space still being made.

***

On Language in AI

This morning which I asked ChatGPT to edit a piece of my paragraph, it flattened its tone, complexity and density altogether. I was quick enough to point it out to the bot, and it was quite self critical. It said:

Many editing models—human and AI alike—are trained to assume that ambiguity is a problem to be solved. They tend to move toward clarity, linearity, and explicit causality. But in certain kinds of writing, ambiguity is not a flaw; it is the intellectual and affective work of the text.

This was reassuring as it echoed what my Yale advisor Eeva Liisa Pelkonen also brought to my notice after reading and interacting with me and my work during my masters; she had advised, "Channel your ambiguity in your writing." Not only did she realise that my doubtful voice was a form of thinking itself, but she also validated it as a powerful tool to produce discourse. I have often wondered how people - intelligent or otherwise become overtly assertive about their thoughts. I believe that the intelligent must know that there is more (to) knowledge beyond what they know, and the other has to know that they are asserting to hide their ignorance or in lack of knowing something. In such a scenario, how can assertion create any ground for productive thought-exchange? Arguments, debates, and reasoning happen precisely in this space of ambiguity, which allows us to challenge what we already know, or expand our thoughts into something we do not know. Does it then become a prerogative only of the curious minds to engage and sustain uncertainty?  ChatGPT further explains studying the past patterns in my writing:

The uncertainty is not incidental—it is the subject of the reflection. To resolve that ambiguity is to alter the thought itself.

The transitions are not fully explained. They are associative rather than argumentative. A conventional editor might ask for clearer links, but the gaps themselves create meaning. They allow the reader to inhabit the process of thinking rather than merely receive its conclusions. 

That 'ambiguity' alters thought is precisely the dialectical reasoning in action through a singular agency. It produces a stream of reflection in which all thoughts are constantly under scrutiny. This kind of writing does not burden itself with citations, rather indexes back to its own past experience, or its lack thereof, constantly invoking consciousness of thought. This is one way of producing knowledge. The Vedics arrived at their version of truth of external reality through disciplined practice of interrogation of the (inner) self. The Western tradition, on which the idea of knowledge largely rests today, tries to use the body as an instrument to arrive at an objective description of reality by minimizing the reliance of the self.  

Eventually ChatGPT told me what I consciously do:

Your writing often seems to think through language rather than merely report conclusions. The sentence is not just carrying an idea; it is exploring it. 

The simultaneous interrogation of thought and language is one within which I exercise meaning. In negotiating the various vectors of meaning within a singular word, I condition my text to hold more than an simple unilateral idea. This is the work of writing, and the task of labour. More importantly, it is conscious work at play - such that any piece of writing becomes accessible, or meaningful to a larger body of people. In other words, one must create multiple entry points within one's writing to expand its sphere of engagement, and influence. Thus, when I responded to the bot: "I like to make my sentences layered and dense with meaning often times rather than dumbing them down like scientific papers. I think that is also one of the dimensions of humanities work right?"; it went on to explain:

One of the distinctive features of much humanities writing is that language is not treated as a transparent vessel carrying information. Language is itself part of the inquiry. The sentence does not merely communicate a thought that already exists; it participates in the production of thought.

In many scientific disciplines, the ideal sentence aspires to be unambiguous, replicable, and resistant to multiple interpretations. Ambiguity is often considered noise because it interferes with the transmission of information.

Many strands of humanities scholarship, however, begin from the premise that the world itself is ambiguous, layered, and resistant to singular explanations. In that context, a sentence may deliberately sustain multiple possibilities because the object of study demands it. 

In the recent past, and recurrently, I have argued for institutional discourse to be more interpretive rather than instructional. The convening of the Graduate Symposium SEA 'Doubts' was to bring ambiguity to the centrestage of academic discourse. Incidentally, 'Noise Fields' was another Annual Conference thematic I had conceived for SEA, where noise was the metaphor to hold polyphonic perspectives together. In the subsequent year where SEA Annual Conference was on the subject of how must institutions grow together, I had presented along with Prasad the case for institutions to be situated amidst interpretive landscapes rather than between walls. The debate of all these ideas in their humanities spectrum and their odds with how traditional scientific discipline orders and utilises language is then quite revealing. It means that my endeavour has been to open up the overtly scientific underpinnings of what constitutes knowledge and bringing them under the purview of ambiguity. In analysing my ways of approaching writing further, ChatGPT says:

What I find interesting in your writing is that it seems to emerge from a tradition that sits somewhere between academic prose and essayistic reflection. It reminds me less of conventional social science writing and more of writers who use prose as a space for thinking—people who allow sentences to carry uncertainty, memory, atmosphere, and concept simultaneously.

The challenge for such writing is not to become clearer at all costs. The challenge is to ensure that every ambiguity is doing work.[...]

And I suspect that what you are often pursuing is not obscurity but what one might call semantic abundance—the feeling that a sentence contains more than can be exhausted in a single reading. That is very much a recognizable aspiration within many traditions of humanities writing, and it is one of the reasons certain essays, catalog texts, and theoretical works reward rereading decades after they were written.

 And the above, has been my pursuit, like mentioned before. I really like the conceptualisation of 'semantic abundance' - for writing to be able to hold multiple meanings at once. I have always found the 'allegorical' form in literary texts the most fascinating, after metaphor and pun. The allegorical in writing is the most artful way of being political, or rather, most political way of being artful...Here, language works like a chameleon, changing colours in cascading contexts - camouflaging, yet out there, hidden yet visible. In employing this, language becomes mirror - "Do we see the same person in the mirror every day?", Eeva had very early on asked me. Despite that mirror is simply doing its work like it has always done, it is at the same time presenting a different picture of us, only if we are willing to see. And it is here, that writing becomes a work of art, which the mathematical models of AI may never be able to calibrate accurately...for it is only the human mind that knows what ghosts to project for the dreams of the future. 

68th Annual Convention of NASA

The National Association of Students of Architecture, India (NASA), is one of the largest student-driven associations of architecture across the world that has been bringing together more than 200 schools of architecture that has grown to that number over the period of three decades. In 2006 when I had first attended NASA as a participant from Academy of Architecture for the HUDCO trophy (which we also won), I had left with a mixed impression of hope and despair. Confused between competition and festival, the event seemed like a lost opportunity to my young critical mind, and we never turned back to participate in the event.

Years later, I was invited as a speaker to the event of the 68th Annual NASA Convention at the Woxsen University. Despite strong reservations, I signed up to see what shape it had taken over the years, and more specifically, how it appeared from "the other side" of things. However, having organized countless events over the last 12 years, and from a more intimate understanding of the archi-pedagogical landscape of the country, I had way more empathy for the entire endeavour now. To pull of this event with more than a 100 colleges, the scales of coordination, the complexities of programming, the management of resources and promise of coming back year after year - with only student energies - must not be an easy feat.

This is not to say that NASA  could still be looked up for its intellectual contribution. But in moderating a single  seminar session and delivering a talk to a room filled with more than 150 students from all across South Asia - I could sense the immense potential that could inform the pedagogical landscape of the country. What the queues of young people waiting to enter our rooms told me was their hunger to connect, reach out and access people who could help them take their questions further, who could open their trajectories beyond their limited intellectual resources within the smaller towns. How do students studying in smaller towns and universities get to meet thinkers and professionals from fields that are otherwise available only within larger schools or prominent universities who can afford them? How do students wanting to explore alternative trajectories in architecture and education find outlets beyond the confines of their archaic intellectual infrastructures.

NASA is then, an opportunity for all these students from cities small and big, across South Asia, to equalise and connect. Over the four days, architecture students not only present the work they produce for the various competitions - that have themselves expanded and attuned to the times (to include journalism, films, and so on), but they also participate in workshops, talks, meets, and in general meet possible future colleagues. A lot often gets lost in the conundrum of scale and organisation of the event, but then, I realised that there is so much that could happen in the coming together of about thousands of  students of architecture in a single space! I am sure some of these students still make life long friends - like I made in 2006 with students of CEPT - who had for the first time introduced some of us visiting to the Kurula Varkey Design Forum - that we attended in 2007, moderated by the likes of Juhaani Palasmaa - whom none of us knew! I felt a strange sense of responsibility now, as I spoke to the young students who held me after my talk to discuss their dilemmas and some who took pictures with me almost making me a celebrity... But precisely that feeling of how sharing your trajectory could become so meaningful for someone who has been searching a resonant voice, was so rewarding...

Sometimes, we take our privilege for granted. I grew up in Mumbai - big city, best schools, intellectual life, resourceful space, access to best minds...I had everything at my disposal, and I have taken advantage of all of it too. Having toured to many smaller towns to teach, discuss and share ideas over the last decade, I realise that such big-city exposure produces a worldliness that feeds into one's work almost naturally, and it is also precisely the world from where other spaces seem like they are "yet to catch up". We cannot simply dismiss this argument to the democratic availability of intellectual resource to media. The catching up will happen only if there is a window to look beyond, and the windows shall open only if they are made in the first place. How do we think of equalising education, and expecting intellectual conversation if in the first place, people do not have access to the same resources?

I think I was humbled off my intellectual snobbery and despite all the problems of NASA that still remain, it is commendable that they continue to do it year after year. These days, my Instagram doom-scroll brings me time and again to this one particular enterprise where a seemingly native individual in the forest across a water source will dig up the soil from the riverbank and then keep sieving it for hours in flowing water - only to collect a tiny, miniscule amount of gold. The event of NASA is such a mixture of promise and hope - of assurance and aspiration. In bringing naiive, young minds together, I am sure they pull up some capacities for some people. In raising this horizon of hope, the event must maintain its quest to keep sharpening and raising its ambition for more people across the subcontinent to become a community of people who must hope. 

To find a home

I turned 40 in the November of 2025. And just a few years before that, I had felt that my life should be different after 40. And thus it turned out to be so. A few months back, I decided to switch jobs, and not just that, I decided to switch cities. I had worked at SEA for about 12 years in Mumbai - a city I called my home. A city that gave me the intellectual stimulus to do what I do today. And yet, after coming back from the USA in 2014, the city slowly revealed to me differently. I could never point out whether I had changed from the worldly exposure of the West, or had the city taken to transform itself completely. The politics of the city had changed. It was caught up into infrastructural expansions, redevelopment, upgradation all at once. And I was to groove back into this transforming city that I had imagined to be my home. But that never happened successfully.

I was older, lonelier despite having increased social access through my work. I made many friends, entered many circles, and fulfilling too. And for a large time, work kept me consumed. But yet, I did not have a person to go back to, except my biological family. This family that we are born into, never disappoints, but it cannot fulfil the gap of that one person that we make home with. While work kept me consumed, the search for this person intensified over the years. But the city had become globalized -- meaning, people worked for different countries while being here, in different time zones, travelled from faraway places for work, had a distant home to go back to, and manage anything in these slivers of time. A churn of transience. But why does home gyrate towards a condition of bodily settlement?

After twelve years of approaching stability, as I just felt that I could make some settlement with my  condition of singlehood, work seemed to get increasingly troubling. I suddenly felt displaced in the aspect of life which I had prioritized significantly over the last twelve years, that perhaps I had made my home. I still find it hard to articulate and understand what precisely bothered me more. Did the place of work become too much like my hetero-biological family? Did my sense of self grow too strong? Could my desire for professional growth not be fully contained and legitimized within this space? Or did my growing self assurance put people at odds with their older version of my vulnerable self? To find home within oneself seemed a complete misfit within the scheme of the outside world...

Is this what is the experience of queerness then? Should finding home for the queer body be always the realization of being misfit in one way or the other? And should we be spending so much energy and time to fight or fit in an existing order...? 

Nevertheless, so, right after turning 40, an opportunity to visit Europe fell in my lap - a conference in Lund, Sweden. And it seemed like a good personal marker. In the mean time, I had decided to experiment home in a new geography. I eventually expressed my desire to move on to a new work place to the folks at SEA, and applied for a position with a more commensurate position and pay at CEPT. At the time, stepping away seemed like the only option despite the fact that my professional and domestic life seemed to have conjoining-ly worked out only if my workplace appreciated my contribution. But after a long wait, I had to move on, and I decided to come to Ahmedabad to experiment home afresh.

The last month has been about this transition. I have not taken a real break in years. Indefatigably working to keep myself mentally occupied. I had imagined my Europe tour to bring me some break (something I am still finding the words to describe over a post), but perhaps I packed too much in too little time. A conference, a solo trip, the handover at SEA, the move to a new city, the house hunt in Ahmedabad, transitioning into a new work atmosphere... I have been taking things slowly and steadily, and yet, it is exhausting. I am unsure what this exhaustion indexes. And how is one to make home in a place with no social or geographical roots, from scratch?

This is perhaps then, the new challenge of life at 40. I landed in Ahmedabad on 2nd June with literally no one to guide in the city. Thanks to the internet and my colleague Shreyank's lending of his house that I am able to undertake my house hunt in some secure way. Yet, there is a haunting question of the home - is it the place or the person that will bring home to me? How would it be to return to an empty shell after work, how would my social life pan out? What could making home entail in this new place with new social codes? Who would I share my experiences with? Is it the sharing of the everyday that makes the home - and should the lack of it make one feel homeless?

It is almost paradoxical that we move so much to feel settled! Virtuous are those who have come to terms with becoming comfortable in their mobile lives. I was not raised in a manner to appreciate movement as home - at least it has to have one condition satisfied - a person or a place. And there have been examples where this person or place could be imaginary. But we the wretched sons of Marx are marred by material life and conditions, or in other words maya. There seems to be a significant journey ahead, beyond 40 still, to find a home. 

Conference in Lund

Two weeks ago, I had the opportunity to participate in an intimate circle of intellectuals from across the globe assembled by scholars Tatiana Thieme, Melissa García and Hannah Hillbrandt at the Lund University Centre for Sustainability Studies in Sweden (LUCSUS). Together we discussed the intersections and inventions that take place across works of repair, climate change and informal living conditions in different geographies that the participants represented. We raised important questions including, but not limited to how uncertainties mould conditions of repair, what are the limits of resource and capacity, how do we imagine the social function of property, the dialectics between repair and resistance, how capital seems to capture 'repair', and many other thought-clusters. Through the exchange, we tried also, to build a history of the repair discourse as much ask asking how it has moved almost suddenly from "informality" to "repair" where the situation still remains the same in neo-liberal economies. The cohort put together the concepts that emerged across the cross-quadrants of space, scale, experience and techne and looked at the parabolic axis through which they begin to interact, resist, play and dance with each other, that are open to take new forms in the future.

The Penultimate Peak by Kunwar Narayan - Translation

अंतिम ऊँचाई कुँवर नारायण कितना स्पष्ट होता आगे बढ़ते जाने का मतलब अगर दसों दिशाएँ हमारे सामने होतीं, हमारे चारों ओर नहीं। कितना आसान होता चलते चले जाना यदि केवल हम चलते होते बाक़ी सब रुका होता। मैंने अक्सर इस ऊलजलूल दुनिया को दस सिरों से सोचने और बीस हाथों से पाने की कोशिश में अपने लिए बेहद मुश्किल बना लिया है। शुरू-शुरू में सब यही चाहते हैं कि सब कुछ शुरू से शुरू हो, लेकिन अंत तक पहुँचते-पहुँचते हिम्मत हार जाते हैं। हमें कोई दिलचस्पी नहीं रहती कि वह सब कैसे समाप्त होता है जो इतनी धूमधाम से शुरू हुआ था हमारे चाहने पर। दुर्गम वनों और ऊँचे पर्वतों को जीतते हुए जब तुम अंतिम ऊँचाई को भी जीत लोगे— जब तुम्हें लगेगा कि कोई अंतर नहीं बचा अब तुममें और उन पत्थरों की कठोरता में जिन्हें तुमने जीता है— जब तुम अपने मस्तक पर बर्फ़ का पहला तूफ़ान झेलोगे और काँपोगे नहीं— तब तुम पाओगे कि कोई फ़र्क़ नहीं सब कुछ जीत लेने में और अंत तक हिम्मत न हारने में।

The Penultimate Peak Kunwar Narayan How clear it would have meant to move ahead if all ten directions lay in front of us, and not around us. How easy it would have been to just keep walking if we were simply walking and everything else was still in my effort to grapple this convoluted world, often  thinking with ten heads and holding with twenty hands I have made it extremely difficult for myself. In the beginning, everyone wants  that everything should begin from the beginning But as they reach the end, they lose motivation. we become completely uninterested in how it all ends That which started with a bang upon our own will. After parsing inaccessible forests and crossing high mountains when one shall even win the last peak — when you will feel that there is no difference between you and the harshness of these rocks that you have conquered — When you will face the first snowstorm and not shiver — Then you will realise that there is no difference in winning everything and not losing hope until the end.

Emergent Practices: South Asia / Architectures of Transition

Situated Imaginaries

Auroville Housing Roger Anger