Kenistudio

Someone recently asked me why I paint. I didn't have an answer. Although, "I paint because I enjoy painting" is a perfectly appropriate answer, I would not say that it encompasses every aspect of my affinity towards creativity. The answer to this question is not easy. I had asked this very same question to myself when I was treating my patients as a dentist. Initially, I found satisfaction in knowing that because of my knowledge and skill, I could make a person's life better, maybe ease their pain, or give them a better quality of life. But later on, I began to understand that doing something for another person gives me a false sense of importance. Also, patients can ignore my advice, choose somebody else, misunderstand what I said, or simply make decisions I couldn't possibly control. If my sense of meaning depended on the other person's response, I was handing part of my inner equilibrium to them. Now, whatever I do, I try to do it with the understanding tha...

The Divine Story of Vamana and Mahabali Multiple lifetimes ago, the souls of Vasudeva and Devaki engaged in long and grueling austerities. When Lord Shri Hari appeared, pleased with their devotion, and asked them, they wished for only one thing - to bear the Supreme Lord Himself as their child. While we famously know them as the parents of Lord Krishna, their divine wish was first fulfilled when Shri Hari took avatar as Vamana, a brahmin boy, born to them in an earlier incarnation as Kashyapa and Aditi. The Tale of King Mahabali During the era of King Mahabali, a formidable ruler who had conquered the heavens, completed 99 grand yagnyas. As he began his 100th, Indra grew fearful. Completing a hundred yagnyas would automatically grant Mahabali the throne of Indra. Desperate to safeguard the balance, Indra approached Lord Shri Hari for help. Responding to the prayers of the devas, Shri Hari took the form of Vamana. Shortly after His upanayana, the young Lord walked toward Mahabali’s yagn...

Beyond the Three Paces - Capturing Mahabali’s True Sacrifice in the Vamana Avatar Painting   Finding the perfect narrative moment to depict an Avatar of Vishnu is always a spiritual and a creative challenge. My goal is never to just illustrate a story. It is to capture the absolute essence and philosophical core of the Avatara.  When I began conceptualizing the Vamana Avatar painting, I knew I had to go beyond the usual dynamic imagery of the three paces and Trivikrama’s giant form. Those are powerful moments, but they are not the central points. My composition is a direct expression of the Avatar's core: Atma Nivedana, or the total surrender of oneself. The true resolution of the Vamana story isn't about Mahabali losing his kingdom. It is about his offering. Him realizing that after everything else has been claimed, the only real thing he could offer is his own self. He asks Vamana, who is both the Supreme Lord and his beloved guest, to place the final step upon his ego, effe...

Painting Matsya Avatar - The Spiritual Irony of Protecting the Protector The first of the Dashavatara series painting, the Matsya Avatara, looked quite straightforward in the beginning. A huge fish, Matsya, guiding the precious ship of survivors through the roaring pralaya waters. But I thought, what is the true essence of this avatara? The answer was protection. Of course, we know who protects us. Who other than Lord ShriHari has the capability to sustain the universe? ​A few days later, I was reading a passage from the Bhagavata Purana where Krishna is ready to leave Indraprastha for Dwaraka after the Pandavas have settled in. Yudhishthira, overflowing with love for Krishna, insists that the Lord cannot travel alone and requires bodyguards. It struck me as profound. Why would the Being who safeguards the entire cosmos need protection from mere thieves and wild animals? Yet Krishna accepts the gesture without a second thought. He is not filled with ego. He is complete. So, when He see...

 The Quiet Grace of Adivaraha: A Reflection on Divine Kindness and Sadhana ​ When we think of the Varaha Avatara, the mind often conjures images of fierce celestial battles. But when I sat down to paint Adivaraha for my Dashavatara series, I didn't want to capture the fury of battle. He can become fierce. But that fierceness is not the essence of the avatara.  ​I wanted to capture His quiet, unshakeable calm. ​I wanted to paint the serene face of a protector who lifts everything that exists with absolute grace. All because the higher jeevas, endowed with bodies, sadhana-sharira, longed for a realm to perform sadhana and ultimately attain moksha. ​This is the true, overwhelming kindness of the Supreme Lord. He doesn't just grant us our spiritual journey. He builds and sustains the very floor beneath our feet so that we might walk toward Him. ​The Weightless Universe and the Primordial darkness ​In this composition, the backdrop is a deep, swirling darkness. The Lakshmyatmaka Ta...

When I first set out on my Dashavatara series, I assumed the process would be straightforward. Pick pivotal moments from my existing research and translate them to canvas. ​My initial 2020 study of Narasimha, an oil on primed paper, felt obvious at the time. My focus was purely on raw, fiery rage. I wanted a lion’s face consumed by flame with Prahlada standing untouched in the corner. ​However, after finishing the Varaha Avatara and delving deeper into the Bhagavata Purana alongside Sri Madhvacharya’s Srimad Ananda Tirtha Bhagavata Tatparya Nirnaya, my perspective shifted completely. I realized I had to revisit the painting. ​The fire of Narasimha was never aimless fury. It was a metaphorical furnace meant solely to burn away Hiranyakashipu's ego and Adharma. Where the world saw an unnatural, terrifying, and a violent form, Prahlada saw a mother. ​Just like a mother who chastises her child out of intense love, giving him chances to rectify his ways before taking firm action, the Lo...

Vasudeva’s Procession Through the Yamuna We often imagine the journey of Vasudeva from Mathura to Gokula as the journey of hardships, carrying a newborn child at night through a raging river in a terrible storm, but when I came across Sri Vadiraja Tirtha’s description of this journey in Rukmiṇisha Vijaya, I began to see it in a new light. This was not a journey of an escape. It was a procession. On that dark Ashtami night, the Supreme Lord appeared as a tiny newborn child. "Tam adbhutaṁ bālakam ambujekṣaṇam!" Vasudeva placed Him in a wicker basket and set out towards Gokula. As I imagined that journey through Vadiraja’s eyes, the entire universe seemed to become part of His procession. Shesha spread his thousands of hoods above Krishna like a royal umbrella - Chatra seva. Vayu moved gently around Him, performing Chamara seva. The Gandharvas sang and played divine music. The Apsaras danced. Celestial flowers showered from above. Even the thunderstorm seemed to become part of t...