Jain Hanuman (A Dreamlike Tapestry)

This suite of washes and graphite-like marks stages a fractured domestic theatre, where bodies dissolve into smoke-dark silhouettes and reassemble in jolting, cartooned gestures across a receding checkerboard ground. Muted greys and bruised browns are punctured by urgent reds and powdery blues, turning small props—gloves, bottles, scraps of furniture—into charged symbols of appetite, control, and self-protection. The repeated figures feel less like portraits than afterimages, as if memory has smeared the scene while leaving certain sensations—touch, impact, the sting of humiliation—uncannily sharp. Taken together, the panels read as an uneasy choreography of intimacy and volatility, where humor and menace coexist and the room itself becomes a witness that cannot intervene.