Anuskha Rustomji

Notes on a Natural Gradual Death (2024)
Acrylic, charcoal, gouache, ink, pencil and perforations on paper 72.5” x 10.25”

Lately, I’ve been thinking of the Gulmohar tree that grew in our lawn next to a brick baradari in Bostaan, my ancestral home in Sahiwal. I had been observing it for years. I was fascinated by its loose petaled, insect-like flowers. When the tree flowered, there was nothing like it for miles to see; it looked like it was on fire. Glorious and graceful, so brilliantly vermillion. The leaves were like a mist. Tiny and delicate. Then, just like us humans, disease and decay got to it. It grew old. Didn’t flower one year, the next year its leaves fell and the year after that it was like a crutch for an even older bougainvillea that was wrapped around, holding it for dear life. It fell finally, two months ago. It was completely hollowed out by termites. The spot is now empty. No red flowers, no misty leaves, just bricks and an empty sky. It was a difficult goodbye.

7th January, 2024

Work from the exhibition " Creation in Translation[case study 01]
curated by Ghazala Raees
@zahoorulakhlaqgallery