Reflections from my recent Artist Residency Feb 2025
I left Victoria doubtful, nervous and uncertain about being away from my beloved family and friends for five weeks. I was surprised to discover these difficult feelings, as I have been dreaming about returning to India since my time there last year. It was hard to untangle myself from all the attachments - family, safety, the comfort of what’s familiar and known. What if I didn’t like my residency? What if this trip wasn’t as fabulous as last year's? All these anxious questions circling in my mind, trying to offer a false sense of control by questioning and what if-ing everything. Onward I went, fears and anxieties in hand!
I had a few days in Delhi first. I landed with sadness seeing the pollution in the air, and joy to be reconnected with my dear friend/brother Himanshu. Delhi is so incredible with its varied neighbourhoods, Mughal monuments, parks that have beautiful trees and also ruins from the 1100’s nested among them. I was determined to ride the metro as much as possible to avoid contributing to the single passenger in a car problem. The metro is so great - clean, good connectivity and offers incredible people-watching. There is always so much happening: young folks hustling, aunties and uncles going home with their shopping, babies sleeping, and phones ringing everywhere. I sat next to a man on the metro who was sharing with someone all about his trip to Mecca and Medina, “hanh, hanh, hum nay bhee Jannat e Sharif dekha (Yes, of course, we went and saw the Prophet’s Mosque!)” Crowded cars, where we stand shoulder to shoulder, in the stream of life, together with all its unfolding.
Other highlights from my time in Delhi included an evening at the Dargah (Sufi Shrine) with my new friend, Shobhit, whom I met through Himanshu. An instant brother, we offered roses to the shrine (well Shobhit offered mine, as women weren’t allowed in the burial shrine itself). I loved having my Hindu raised brother offering prayers on my behalf. We spent the evening in contemplation, chatting about religion, the Ganga-Yamuna tehzeeb (the Ganga/Yamuna culture/Muslim/Hindu composite culture of India) and its importance in these divisive times. I also visited the Partition Museum to understand more about what my father might have experienced as a young boy and the histories of both my parents’ families. I spent a morning in Hauz Khas Deer Park, watching a colony of sleeping bats and admiring the gorgeous ruins, before flying to Varanasi.
On my first morning in Banaras, I made my way to the Ganga (Ganges River). A series of narrow alleys and lanes wind their way like a labyrinth to the riverside and leading you to the various ghats (riverside steps). Most of Banaras’s riverside is built up on the west side, with steps leading down to the river for bathing or spreading ashes. The Ganga is wide and gently flowing here in early spring in Banaras. It’s also been madly crowded due to the Maha Kumbh Mela overflow, with motorboats humming down the river and crowds waiting to bathe.
A couple of days later, I returned for a sunrise walk with our artist group and host/guide Ajay. Amidst the crowds on the banks of the river, the rising red sun pierced through the din, and entranced me in an awestruck silence. I went back to the Ganga a week later to watch the full moon rise. Alone, I sat for a long time watching, meditating, wondering all that has flowed through and on this river. My parents and ancestors were born and lived downstream, just a few hundred kilometres away. Countless wise teachers have shared their teachings along this river and in this city. Banaras, also known as Kashi (The City of Light), is a sacred city for Hindus, and also an important city for Sufi and Bhakti teachers. Ghalib stayed and wrote here, Kabir was born here and taught on the ghats, Ravidas taught here as well. As I walked along the riverside, It was humbling to think of all the teachings and sacred growth that have unfolded here.
On the full moon night, I was able to sit quietly for about 45 mins and then a group gathered on the steps. A man with a loudspeaker offered bhajans/devotional songs and spoke about the right to have an evening aarti ceremony at this particular ghat, declaring that this is Banaras, and that it should be a right. I learned there are designated ghats for public aarti ceremonies. I could sense the hint of Hindu Nationalism from this young man, as he was getting quite worked up. Watching the crowds, I thought of Kabir, who criticized attachment to ritual and external practices. He emphasized a personal and introspective spiritual practice. Who’s to know the intentions of all those gathered on the ghats that night, but Kabir’s words bear reflecting on. The evening aarti, nonetheless, was beautiful; offering fire to the river in gratitude and devotion. I kept my eyes on the horizon at 75 degrees East, to watch the moon come up. It appeared during the aarti ceremony, a goddess in the night sky, I pointed it out to everyone sitting beside me in excitement. Moon magic and sacred fire amidst the neon lit motorboats on the river and dense crowds.
Where do you search me?
I am with you
Not in pilgrimage, nor in icons
Neither in solitudes
Not in temples, nor in mosques
Neither in Kaba nor in Kailash
I am with you O being
I am with you
Not in prayers, nor in meditation
Neiter in fasting
Not in yogic exercises
Neither in renunciation
Neither in the vital force nor in the body
Not even in the ethereal space
Neither in the womb of Nature
Not in the breah of the breath
Seek earnestly and discover
In but a moment of search
Says Kabir, Listen with care
Where your faith is, I am there.
-Kabir
Two weeks ago, I arrived in Banaras at the Anandvan Residency, hosted by the Banaras Cultural Foundation. Navneet, who was born and raised in Banaras, dreamed up this space with his partner Petra and their friend Ajay. Anandvan meaning “Forest of Bliss,” is an incredible refuge with organic garden that nourishes us, right in the heart of the city. We’re about 10-15 minutes from the ghats/riverside when traffic is light, though my timing overlapped with the Maha Kumbh Mela - a major pilgrimage time for Hindus to bathe and offer worship at the site of the confluence of the Ganga, Yamuna and Saraswati Rivers in Allahabad, 90 kms away. Many sadhus and pilgrims come to Banaras after their ritual bathing in Allahbad, so the city has been insanely busy.
The Forest of Bliss exists within a cloud of constant honking, traffic jams, and a river of humanity making its way to the Ganga! I watched all my aversion and anxieties around the busyness emerge and challenge me the first week. Getting anywhere was quite a challenge. The first week was incredibly full: adjusting, settling in, negotiating traffic and noise. The banana trees, neem trees, tulsi, nightingales, hibiscus, jasmine, roses and chipmunks at Anandvan remind me that beauty and calmness can exist amidst chaos. So much opportunity for mindfulness practice! This residency has felt like a vipassana retreat of sorts. There are four of us artists: two painters (G from the UK and Stephen from NYC) and Chaz, a singer/songwriter from the UK. We are all committed to our creative practices, socializing at mealtimes and then giving each other space to work in our studios. Having a community of artists who are deeply committed to practice keeps me motivated and provides a supportive structure for the creative process. I have been writing, sketching, sewing alongside sitting and walking practice in the garden. For so many years, I felt I couldn’t attend artist residencies while raising my family, as I was already away for meditation retreats. I’m grateful for this time of both creative and spiritual practice.
I had the chance to visit with master silk weaver, Haseen Mohamad Ji and learn about the Banarasi sari weaving. I got to sit at the loom and try my hand at weaving. Did you know that looms are often considered the first computers? The Jacquard uses cards with binary punch codes to create the pattern.
I have also visited with Shrimati Manju Ji, a singer and professor of Kabir’s work. She sang for me, shared her teachings and moved me to tears (in a good way). She is so grounded, kind, and wise. I am seeing her again tomorrow.
In the studio, all these experiences are emerging as sketches and ideas for experiments. I’ve been stitching a ground of tana (warp) and will soon stitch all the waterways I come from as the bana (weft). What does a Ganga/Yamuna/Niagara/Salish Sea tehzeeb (culture) look like? Little weaving exercises, writings, reading Ghalib and Kabir, recording the gestures of weaving and stitching. This week, I plan to visit the flower market to buy more flower garlands and create a living loom out of roses. I’m telling myself to try different things, mess around, and play.
