Pablo Picasso had once said- Painting is just another way of keeping a diary. In the fifty three years of my life, like majority of people around me, I have never written a diary. We are all stupid common men, struggling for our bread & butter & if possible sometimes a cake. What the hell is there in our lives to write about, leave aside other people, we ourselves may not like to read about our past daily chores & grinds, but still, there are some delicate moments or stormy moments in every person’s life, which are worthy of recollection & there are also some moments you would like to not only forget but wipe off, delete, but you can’t.

Now in the October of my life, with grind now lessened & some time on my hands, I would like to recall those moments, some fragrant roses, and some lovely thorns, yes thorns also can be lovely, it’s how you look at them. I don’t know whether I am talking to you or to myself, most probably the later & I also don’t know whether I am a good writer or a good painter but as Henry Ward Beecher once said – Every artist dips his brush in his soul, and paints his own nature into his pictures. That’s what intend to do.