

A solitary peacock rises like a devotional totem, its scaled blues cooling the canvas while a burnished disc of script behind it reads as memory, mantra, and cultural echo. The composition balances ornament and stillness: a dark, branching tree frames the figure as if time itself were sheltering it, and scattered gold-like orbs pulse across the surface like blessings or coins of attention. At the base, the oversized white lotus opens with quiet authority, turning the scene into a meditation on purity held within complexity—beauty not as display, but as a practiced, luminous inwardness.







