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I’ve named this painting Shanta. Everything in this piece was planned—except the moon. It appeared almost on its own, and with it came the sense of calm that completed the scene. The forest, the light, the stillness—everything began to flow together. Shanta is that quiet moment where stillness meets light, and the unplanned becomes divine.
Some time ago I painted a piece called Echoes. It’s found its collector and no longer lives with me. Yet the feeling it gave me never left. I missed the mood, that energy, that presence in my space, and that’s when Echara began. Born from the same space within me. It carries the continuation of Echoes once held. The red still lingers, now beneath the green skies and purple-pink mountains. As if the same story wanted to stay with me in a new form. Echoes moved on; Echara still stays.
I kept everything soft in this painting—the colors, the light, and the moon. Nothing pushes forward here. It’s meant to offer a sense of calm, the kind that arrives quietly and stays for a while.
I don’t usually work with crimson—not that I haven’t used it before, but it’s rarely been the main color. This time, I let it set the mood for the entire painting, and I absolutely love how it’s turned out. Even though, like always, it’s made with a limited color palette, it still feels vibrant and colorful and full of life. It’s a little reminder that ‘colorful’ doesn’t always mean many colors—sometimes, it’s about the joy, energy, and happiness a painting carries, no matter how simple the palette.
Soft yellow glows like morning light. Lavender whispers calm. Green breathes life into every corner. A beautiful blend of textures and tones—crafted for spaces that deserve quiet elegance. Don’t let this quiet luxury pass you.
Some buy art to match their walls. Some buy it as a decor. But to me, art should move you. It should stir something deep within—make you pause, feel, and maybe even remember a part of yourself you’d forgotten. This painting isn’t loud.But a kind that stays with you…long after you’ve stopped looking. Own what moves you
This painting started with a completely different idea. I had planned for shades of violet, a certain composition, a certain feel… but something didn’t sit right. Deep down, I knew it wasn’t working—and instead of forcing it, I paused.
After spending quite some time trying to “make it work,” I finally did what artists often resist: I let go. And the moment I did, everything changed—from the structure to the colors. The calm, cool energy of blue took over, but if you look closely, violet still peeks through the layers, like a quiet reminder of where it all began.
What I love most is how all those hidden colors underneath—the ones that didn’t quite make it to the surface—have added texture, depth, and story. It’s not the first time a painting has taken its own direction, and by now, I’ve come to trust that when I follow where it leads, it ends up becoming something even better than I imagined.
This piece is about change. About intuition. And about the beauty that shows up when we stop trying to control everything and simply let things unfold.
Started this one, and halfway through, I caught myself thinking, “I should’ve done this on a bigger canvas.” But honestly…it’s dreamy, soft, and stealing hearts just the way it is. Everyone who passed by while I was painting said it—”There’s something about this one.” If you’ve been waiting for that perfect little piece of magic…this might just be it.
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There’s a reason why I keep returning to this tree. Every Kalpavriksha I paint carries its own quiet power. Not just to decorate…But to hold space. To speak to someone,maybe… you.
I wondered—should I soften the sun, blur it into the sky, or just let the light scatter like a quiet whisper? But something in me said, “Let it be.”
Because sometimes, we need to see the light in its full presence—bold, certain, and shining anyway. Golden Abundance is that moment. Of stillness, warmth, and quiet strength.
