Portrait of my parents (in 2022)

In 2022, I painted this portrait for my parents' 40th wedding anniversary. But looking at it today, I see details in their presence that I was only beginning to understand when my brush touched the canvas.

​My mother, at 65, is the quiet force that holds our universe together. To an outsider, she is in the crowd, cheering gently from the sidelines. But the truth is, she has spent decades carrying this family on her shoulders. Her sacrifices aren't grand, dramatic statements. They live in the smallest, daily details that most people overlook or take for granted. The tiny concessions, the invisible choices, the ceaseless everyday labor. When you look closely, you realize we are all standing on her shoulders.

​My father is a different kind of anchor. Retired over a decade ago, he exists in a rhythm entirely his own. He doesn't cheer. He observes, giving a slight, silent nod of approval when it matters. Being with him often reminds me of the Bhishma Parva. It isn't a Guru-Shishya dialogue where doubts are cleared and questions are debated. When he speaks, it’s not to engage in back-and-forth conversation. It’s an outpouring of experience, observations and constant adhyayana gathered over a long life. When he finishes speaking, he returns to his quiet space, leaving us to absorb what was shared.

​Painting them was an act of observation whereas understanding them is an ongoing journey of love, gratitude, and reverence.