A lifetime is not enough to give form to all the images that fly into the mind from the earth and also from the sky. Fortunately they come soaked in colour, the ultimate intoxicant, dissolved in our blood from the time of the bold Pahari miniaturists building their own norms, or the simple line of figure the Chola sculptors followed 900 years ago. I would exchange nothing for being born in this old and varied land, both sensuous and mystic, ecstatic and painful.
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