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#Tortoise Tin
ask-shutter-ghost · 1 year
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Rose Moon: If the parents that raised you are earth ponies, who taught you to use your unicorn magic?
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Shutter Ghost: Glad you asked! The ride operator from the haunted house where I got my cutie mark taught me. His name's Tortoise Tin!
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I was heavily inspired by @dollbunnie's paper drawings for this piece and couldn't resist trying a similar one! It was a lot of fun playing with the lighting and framing for this :D
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yuthana · 2 months
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Vintage retro animal litho tin. tortoise - turtle wind up tin. (N) & Ishizuka brand Japan 60s. Buy Now! On the eBay website, click here>>> https://www.ebay.com/itm/226042438326
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Antique Tin Tole Tortoise Shell Decorated Snuff Box, c.19th Century ebay Ferrantes Antiques
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71002milk · 2 months
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Tortoise - Elsewhere, New York City, October 2, 2022
Over on Aquarium Drunkard this week, I raved about the new Jeff Parker album, Mondays at the Enfield Tennis Academy — I can't recommend it highly enough! Hypnotic, groovy, sublime. As I note in the review, Parker is in the midst of a pretty extraordinary run, whether as an ace-in-the-hole sideman or all on his own. Amazingly, this streak doesn't even include what is still the guitarist's most high-profile gig in Tortoise.
But Tortoise is still a going concern — indeed, the band just went on a quick tour this fall. Several band members may be scattered from Chicago these days, but they sound extremely close-knit on this excellent NYC tape. High-energy, in fact, a descriptor that you might not always use when talking about Tortoise. The career-spanning setlist has something for everyone, whether it's the thrilling opener "Gigantes" or the classic throwback to "Tin Cans & Twine." Long live Tortoise!
And hey, you can still check out my TRTS-themed Invisible Hits column over on P-fork.
Sign up for the Doom & Gloom From The Tomb Substack newsletter — Doom & Gloom delivered to your inbox every Friday!
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thealmightyemprex · 1 year
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Disney Month: Ranking Disney Oscar winning animated shorts part one (20-11)
For the 8th installment of Disney Month I shall be ranking Disneys 20 oscar winning animated shorts from least fave to fave .I will admit I found some of the shorts underwhelming but some are great
Most of these shorts you can find either on Disney +,Youtube and two on the internet archive
20.Bao
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Woman makes a Bao baby
HATE.HATE SO MUCH .This was so unsettling to me and I didnt think it worked at all
19. Three Orphan Kittens
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Three orphan kittens run amuck in a house
Boring .I like cuteness but this was boring .It was also the hardest to find ,I couldnt even find it on its own,I found it in a compilation film of other oscar winners.
18,Tortoise and the Hare
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The old tale of the race between the Tortoise and the hare
So the Hare in this short was an inspiration for Bugs Bunny.....And it just made me wanna watch a Bugs Bunny cartoon instead,I found this very dull
17.Country Cousin
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A country mouse stays with his upper class city cousin
....Meh .I dunno a lot of these 1930's shorts left no impact on me
16.Ferdinand the Bull
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A bull who doesnt like fighting and would rather smell flowers
This one felt confused as to what it wanted to say ,if it even wanted to say anything .Theres some funny stuff and good character animation ,but its just a bull who likes flowers ,I got nothing
15.The Ugly Duckling
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A retelling of the story of the one unusal duckling who finds out what he really is
Its alright.Theres a funny moment between the duck parents where you cant understand what they are saying but ya know whats implied at the same time that was neat but the rest of the short was just OK
14,Tin Toy
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A tin toy is trying to escape a baby
Cute concept,no doubt was a break through for early CG .....BUT THAT FLIPPING BABY IS HORRIFYING .Early CG is a little hard to watch
13.Flowers and trees
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The first oscar winning cartoon,Anthro trees fall in love but there is an evil tree who want the lady tree
I'm actually surprised it is so high,its very simplistic and while watching I was a bit meh about it ,but the animation is nice and its cute .Plus it is the first technicolor animated short so thats cool
12. Paperman
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A guy meets a woman at a train spot,finds her in a office next to his ,and uses paper airplanes to get her intention
I am surprised its not higher,Its a cute lovestory with a magical twist and I like the CG that emulates 2D look ,but on this rewatch....I dunno it was lacking something
11. Feast
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A relationship told through the eyes of a hungry dog
This is pretty darn cute ,It charmed the hell out of me when I first saw it.There are just shorts I like better
To be Continued
@ariel-seagull-wings @the-blue-fairie @themousefromfantasyland @amalthea9 @angelixgutz @princesssarisa @goodanswerfoxmonster @marquisedemasque @filmcityworld1
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bluepoodle7 · 1 year
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#Saban #Pinocchio #TheAdventuresofPinocchio #Anime #Figures #Merch #DrinkGlasses #VinylCD #AnimationCells
I went down the rabbit hole for this anime Pinocchio. Found a lot of stuff. There is no human Mokku merch.
Images not mine but links are there.
Mandarake | The adventures of Pinocchio (Kashi no ki Mokku)
Nakajima Seisakusho The adventures of Pinocchio (Kashi no ki Mokku) standard size soft vinyl 緑服 | Mandarake Online Shop
Tatsunoko The adventures of Pinocchio (Kashi no ki Mokku) (sound is heard Cushion badge) Summary | Mandarake Online Shop
Tobitsukiya Wind-up toy Tin The adventures of Pinocchio (Kashi no ki Mokku) tricycle red | Mandarake Online Shop
Columbia Record The adventures of Pinocchio (Kashi no ki Mokku) badge | Mandarake Online Shop
Calbee Inc The adventures of Pinocchio (Kashi no ki Mokku) Ken Ken and Hanaguro 20 | Mandarake Online Shop
Snow stamped dairy industry The adventures of Pinocchio (Kashi no ki Mokku) Mokku) snow stamped yogurt bowling game | Mandarake Online Shop
Toho The adventures of Pinocchio (Kashi no ki Mokku) Mokku) I do not cry Speed Poster | Mandarake Online Shop
Calbee Inc The adventures of Pinocchio (Kashi no ki Mokku) liar Ken Ken 19 | Mandarake Online Shop
Calbee Inc The adventures of Pinocchio (Kashi no ki Mokku) play steward the mock-11 | Mandarake Online Shop
Nakajima Seisakusho Soft Vinyl Tortoise Mark Toy Oak The adventures of Pinocchio (Kashi no ki Mokku) Orange Clothes 250mm flesh colored molding | Mandarake Online Shop
Albatross Albatross / Tatsunoko Pro Collection The adventures of Pinocchio (Kashi no ki Mokku) / Finished Product Finished Product | Mandarake Online Shop
Sunstar Kid's Shampoo The adventures of Pinocchio (Kashi no ki Mokku) Kid's Shampoo | Mandarake Online Shop
Nakajima Seisakusho soft vinyl turtle mark of toys The adventures of Pinocchio (Kashi no ki Mokku) Mokku) green clothes 250Mm flesh colored molding | Mandarake Online Shop
Columbia Record KX-19 Golden TV Manga Daikoushin 9 | Mandarake Online Shop
pinocchio shampoo japan '70 nakajima popy age vinyl sofubi | eBay
PIN PIN PIN PIN 2.5 CM 25 MM LE ADVENTURES DI PINOCCHIO | eBay
Vintage Pinocchio 🤥 drinking Glass 1991 Tatsunoko Production Ltd VGC | eBay
MAZINGA - GOLDRAKE - JEEG - PINOCCHIO | eBay
THE NEW ADVENTURES OF PINOCCHIO (TATSUNOKO) 1976 NIPPON Animation SEALED#FR | eBay
8 DVD Box Set THE NEW ADVENTURES OF PINOCCHIO Tatsunoko New | eBay
2 VINTAGE TATSUNOKO 1991 VINTAGE PINOCCHIO GLASSES ANIME COLLECTIBLE GLASSES x,manga | eBay
-- PINOCCHIO. 7 MUSTARD GLASSES. FRENCH PROMO GLASSES -- TATSUNOKO. 1991. | eBay
PINOCCHIO - TATSUNOKO MINI PUZZLE - 12 PIECES SEALED RARE! | eBay
Part 1
A blog about obscurity stuff, plushies and food. on Tumblr
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honeyboyfelix · 2 years
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ah shit did i tell you guys about the deck boy?
so in my netherdeep campaign our dm gave us a deck of many things (if you dont know what that means,,,, oof. if you do know,,, 👀) all of us immediately freak out and promise not to pull on it cause the chance it goes bad is very high and who knows what bullshits in there (the dm homebrewed some cards,,, extra scary) so anyway a few sessions later were trying to convince this guy (verin theyless) to let us into a dungeon (bazzoxan) and he tells us to get a boon from a giant tortoise
one of the boons the tortoise offers us is to 'pick two cards from the deck of many things' and we get to choose which card takes effect and the other disappears from the deck but doesnt take effect. only one of us gets to pull. we of course pick it cause its a better change than normal to get something good. i suggest rollies for fareness. i win the rollies by accident oops 😬
one of the cards is like proficiency in any skill or something i dont remember and the other is the knight card
the knight card basically gives you what it says on the tin: a knight (changed to fit our lvl and homebrewed for fun cause og rules is we get a lvl 4 dmpc at lvl 4 💀)
the group decides theyre going to light bully me into picking the knight card (and tbh most interesting choice but rip our dm who has to rollplay 20 npcs ever session)
now the dm has been trying to integrate romance into the campaign, asking us what our characters type is and all that fun stuff. so of course this knight card comes with options (4 very fun options lmao) but i choose earth genasi artificer cause artificer is something our team doesnt have a niche in and itd be cool and now we have a team boy who my party thinks my character has a crush on 👀
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bedroom-kingdom · 2 years
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[Instrumental]
Tortoise Tortoise 1994 U.S.A.
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ask-shutter-ghost · 2 years
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Hey! I’m Shutter Ghost, and these are my three cats, Whisp, Void, and Pecan. I’m a ghost hunter who takes a lot of instant photos and has an obsession with scarves. If you have any questions for me, feel free to ask! 
I also take commissions! 
(More info and links below the cut!)
Shutter Ghost’s Pose | Whisp’s Pose | Void and Pecan’s Poses
TAGS TO FOLLOW/BLOCK
Horror | Gore | AskShutter | Shutter Ghost
Rapid Stream | Pecan | Whisp | Void
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CHARACTER REFERENCES
Shutter Ghost and Cats | Rapid Stream | Soft Howl
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IMPORTANT LINKS
Shutter Ghost’s House
Shutter Ghost’s Parents
How Shutter Ghost Got His Cutie Mark
Who Taught Shutter Ghost Magic: Tortoise Tin
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FINISHED STORIES
Canterlot Castle Catacombs
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ONGOING STORIES
Encounter Journal
Workhorse Industries
Changeling in Disguise
Looking for Looking Glass
Shutter and Rose Moon
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FUTURE STORIES
Who’s Me?
Shutter Visits Sunny Town
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yuthana · 9 months
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Vintage retro animal litho tin. tortoise - turtle wind up tin. (N) & Ishizuka brand Japan 60s. Buy Now! On the eBay website, click here>>> [Sold Out]
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rustedskyprisms · 3 months
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bizonmark · 10 months
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Female Bohemian Shell Heart Summer Anklets For Women Tortoise Ankle Bracelets Girls Barefoot on Leg Chain Jewelry Gift
Gender: Women Shapepattern: Star Model Number: Anklet001 Style: Casual/Sporty Length: 19cm Material: Metal Metals Type: Copper,Tin Alloy,Zinc alloy Brand Name: WKOUD Origin: Mainland China CN: Zhejiang Fine or Fashion: Fashion Item Type: Anklets Express Free Shipping: More Than 200$ Free DHLUPSFEDEX Place of origin: Zhejiang China(Mainland)            
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thealmightyemprex · 1 year
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Gonna do a ranking list of Disney's Oscar winning animated shorts:
Flowers and Trees (Watched)
Three Little Pigs (Watched)
Tortoise and the Hare(Watched)
Three Orphan Kittens
The Country Cousin
The Old Mill(Watched)
Ferdinand the Bull
The Ugly Duckling
Lend a Paw(Watched)
Der Fuhers Face
Toot Whistle Plunk and Boom
Winnie the Pooh and the Blustery Day
It's Tough To Be A Bird
Tin Toy
Geris Game
For The Birds
Paperman
Feast
Piper
Bao
Gonna watch then rank all
@goodanswerfoxmonster @the-blue-fairie @ariel-seagull-wings @amalthea9 @filmcityworld1 @marquisedemasque @themousefromfantasyland @princesssarisa @angelixgutz
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mcdowellpierce · 1 year
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Phinda. 4:48a.
I don’t have much time, but I’d love to share some of what I’ve done the last few days.
I believe I left off with &Beyond. Well today, I sit at an &Beyond location — Phinda Game Reserve — which is located in eastern South Africa. More on that momentarily.
Two days ago we went to Soweto. It was the type of experience that I had hoped for. Something true as opposed to the luxury malls and hotel. Soweto has approximately 3 million people. It’s a suburb of Johannesburg. It stands for “southwestern township.” As you pass the “welcome to Soweto” sign by vehicle, you begin to snake through streets and, generally, descend deeper into the valley. One side of the street tends to be where the “haves” — 4 room house, higher fences, barbed wire, electric fences — live while the other is where the “have nots” — 3 rooms, more run down, etc. — call home. As you descend deeper into the belly of Soweto, the homes get worse. We saw several stray dogs that looked okay — don’t worry Al! — but not in ideal shape. We eventually progressed into an “unincorporated” part of Soweto. Those who live there — ~46,000 — are considered squatters, but most of their families have lived there since 1901. This area is extreme poverty. No running water. Literally 20 families share a single portapotty. We toured one home, which consisted of 3 rooms that are shared by 26 family members. I am not exaggerating. The home’s roof was tin, its floors dirt. As we carved through the village’s alleyways, we stumbled upon thick, uneven rocks and putrid trash that were floating atop a light stream of running water. The water smelled of human waste.
I am sorry to be graphic, but it is important. It was the experience that I had been waiting for, because it’s a real experience of South Africa. I can think of no better way to complement my current time in the 5-star luxury lodge of Phinda than to spend time in the deepest slums of Soweto.
What have I done to deserve such fortune? So much of my current station is due to where I was born and from whom I was born from. Yes, I believe that I have worked hard, but the ingredient that’s played the featured role is luck. Had I been born in Soweto, for example, no hard work would have gotten me remotely to this point in life. Ruminating on these facts only help so much, though. I’m a big disciple of Stoicism, which one of its primary tenets is that there are things that one can control and others that one cannot. The things that I can — effort, mindset, education, discipline, generosity — are where I should dedicate my time and focus. The others — luck, macro events, etc. — I should not, because I can’t control them.
Phinda. It is magical. Perhaps the best way to summarize it to the audience I have is that it’s an oasis that would receive a hearty stamp of approval from mom. Yea, this even remains true despite the fact that it’s in the middle of the bush, surrounded by all the iconic African predators.
We’ve seen lions, elephants, cheetah, giraffes, wildebeests, warthogs (and 3 piglets), white rhino (which is exceedingly rare in Africa), African buffalo, terrapin, tortoise, zebras, impalas, nyalas, the little bird that’s always with Poomba and Timon, a jackal, and as of last night, a hippo, crocodile and leopard! We await the hyena, wild dog, and the honey badger, with others I’m sure, too. To find the honey badger would be like finding the rarest Pokémon.
I could go on about the service at the lodge, and please let me know if you’d me to write about it, but I will hold off on that for another time. Think upon arrive, a hot, damp lemongrass towel to refresh your face. Flavored, homemade pineapple syrups combined with sparkling waters to quench your thirst. Homemade shortbreads and cookies with coffee, tea and hot chocolate — all consumed not just anywhere, but in the middle of the bush, halfway through our early morning safari and late night rides. The latter pit stop of which is known as a “sundowner.” At night, I walk back to my room, which I cannot do unattended because of the danger. During the day, when I walk to my cavitation, I see nyala awaiting my arrival, literally 8 feet from my door.
It’s a perfect experience that makes me think of family again and again. I hope that we can share something like this in the near future.
Taking a brief step back, I want to try to give some big picture thoughts.
If one can afford an experience such as this — and it’s far from cheap — then I can’t think of anything much better. It’s an education that cannot be duplicated, so long as it is accompanied with a real-world experience of the local community, too. No trip should be exclusively this, because it distorts the reality of the struggle that so many in this country face. Nathi — the taxi driver who picked me up when arriving into the country — would not be able to do this, despite working his tail off and possessing such a powerfully positive mindset. I owe it to myself and to others to ensure that I don’t lose track of this appreciation and channel it towards something true and good.
As mentioned, this also makes me think of family. I know that I’m in the right head space when my mind continues to return to you guys while I’m here. I want to share the experience with you all rather than keep it to myself. Hopefully it does not come off as gloating or inconsiderate. Moving forward, get ready for an annoying Pierce who will be peppering you at holidays, angling for a family trip abroad such as this.
Regarding affordability, as mentioned it’s far from cheap. Truly far. However, it’s a reminder to me to say no to certain things in life — including multiple other trips — so that I can use a high concentration of funds on something like this. “This” is luxury, combined with education, nature, while also ensuring I see the other side of luxury — the reality of places like Soweto. It also channels my mind and gives me purpose to work harder to earn more money so that I can tether that towards something like this — especially in teaching lessons to my children. Finally, it’s money spent towards something good. The money that’s poured into this place directly benefits wildlife conservation, the people who live in the villages around us, etc. It’s a more virtuous form of tourism.
I’ll end with the following: Poaching v Pineapples. What does greater damage to African animals?
Poaching has led to animal extinction in places throughout Africa. Pineapple farms decimate entire ecosystems. Poaching may remove the black rhino in Phinda, but pineapple farms wipe out all flora and fauna in pursuit of the mass production of pineapple. That means no lions, elephants, leopards, etc. It also means fewer insects, flowers, trees. A poacher can be dealt with, pineapple farms cannot beyond ensuring that don’t exist. Of course, I’m not iconoclast against pineapple — it’s a a good thing! It’s just being mindful of the ecosystems that it is wiping out. In places such as this, no pineapple is worth what it’s replacing. What’s the pineapple farm equivalent in SD and MN?
Thinking of you guys!
-Pierce
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kabatakabita · 1 year
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Nishiddho Pali
Nishiddho Pali
(which means the soil from outside a brothel)
A beam of evening light entered the small wooden framed window facing west. Dust suspended in the light band like illuminated specks of gold. In the west, at the end of tapered columns of houses, the sun imitated a dying flame. The cast on the otherwise light grey concrete grew bigger and darker, more animated than the body. It was a Friday evening. Fridays meant white for Ali although once it had meant saffron. He was clad in the only set of stark white muslin kurta salwar he owned and wore a skull cap. His unusually dense and unkempt black hair flowed down his ears. His wide shoulders made his head look smaller than it was. Extensions of his hands pressed on either side did not match the masculine upper bearings for they were slender, soft on the tips. Sediments of clay lodged underneath his short fingernails and above the cuticles. There bent in a bow with his knees pressed in his chest, he looked like a tortoise. As he raised his head, his shadow on the floor moved like a seeping pool of black water almost displacing air. The head in the shadow bulged as it crawled on a still pair of feet of a gilded statue of Ganesh. A dozen other half painted deities witnessed him praying for the fourth time today.
The air brought a hypnotic aroma of imported incense. As his forehead touched the rug, the smell mingled with its earthy smell. A monkey balanced itself on the wire that ran across his window and walked to a safe corner to and gnawed the half-eaten apple. Something crashed on the road.
There was a sudden commotion in the street that sounded like the inertia of his dreams. Somebody was crying and cursing. The commotion seemed not very distant. As he hurtled to the open window, he heard footsteps approaching that stopped outside his door and the room shivered as the corrugated tin rattled uninterrupted. "open the door", cried a man. Ali hurriedly unlatched the door that opened to a damp corridor blocked by a man as tall as the door. Two old men in saffron kurta were standing on either side. Without greeting of any sort, the man held him by his arm and pulled him down the stairs into the street. The man kept saying if he was deaf and did not hear the calls. The clamor on the street grew louder and louder. As he reached the crowd, people looked at him. He did not how to feel as never had he been looked at by so many people. He tried to look each in their eyes that radiated indignation. This expedition projected in his mind broad-faced statues with just eyes that unfurled eternally like petals. This figment of imagination came to a halt as he saw a wary pair of eyes of a woman that was bleeding from her head. A woman was pressing a white cloth against her scalp, she was cursing. She lifted the gauze as she paused between her long sentences that were almost gibberish to Ali’s ears. He looked at his feet, Shards of broken clay had scattered on the paved road. He figured it was the head of Buddha. He should have closed the windows he thought, it must have been the monkey.
"look what you have done, you pervert, did you mean to tease her or kill her? will you speak? apologize and pay the bills now or we will have your statues all thrown?", somebody held his collar and screamed into his right ear. "We should throw them anyway, what kind of man wears a skull cap and sculpts, this is blasphemy," said another. He heard it all fixing his gaze on the woman, it was after ages he had met kohled eyes.
11 years ago:
His father pushed his head under the water of Bagmati, water rushed into his ears and nose and eyes, he held his breath. The sound of ringing bells faded. It was the month of September and the water reeked of blood.
"Why did she kill mahis asur baba?" He tilted his depilated head to his right. Water ran down his boxers through his thin calves and collected at his feet. Warm water slithered out of his ear.
"To live we have to kill something " said his father scooping fresh clay out of the mass and pasting it on the straw scaffolding of Kali that he feared.
He had an odd fancy for sculpture. At the age of twelve, his fingers could mould into shape a lifesize Ganesh. He had inherited the craft like innate muscle memory. His father was a renowned artist and during festivals, the rivers sailed his craft far and wide, to the edge of the world.
"How do you make the eyes baba?"
Bhadra -as was his Hindu name- could never get the eyes right during his practice. He wondered why it was such a tedious task to get the eyes right. It was his wont to scratch the mud with a twig in vain attempts. He would skip but the face without eyes he thought was no face, and the faces he would contrive demanded to see, if not anything, the maker. In these times he wondered about blind deities.
"Bhadra the world is a reflection of self, look into your own eyes, the more you know yours the better you'll get at the making of others". He would then immediately resolve to observe a reflection on muddy water that sloshed gently from side to side in the bucket.
A decade on, one could still find the silhouette of a shrine reflected on muddy waters floating in his eyes.
The order for Durgapuja came early this year. But Ali lacked inspiration. He could never make a woman for he knew not what a woman felt like in his fingers.
But he knew of a woman- mother- whose memory was coupled with the smell of gunpowder and dust and clamor that oozed in his eyes the muddy waters. Like an old polaroid, he had an image of a collapsing house pasted underneath his eyelids. When the dust had settled, his mother was gone. He was too young to understand why the corpses of his parents were never touched by the priests that worshipped the statues they made and, why he had to change his name and his gods. By the time he understood he was too used to everything and nothing really mattered. Now he had to learn to make the eyes.
That night, facing a huge mound of clay, unable to contrive a shape, he kept thinking about the kohled eyes of the wounded woman.
On the following night, he found himself in a one-roomed house whose walls were made of corrugated iron. He could not recall how he reached there but he was holding a face in his mottled hands that he speculated under a mellow light, the kohled eyes glinted bright shades of longing that exuded a balmy pleasure into the air. The touch buoyed a submerged inspiration in his viscous mindscape, as the face writhed in his damp palms, it floated up like air bubble trapped in honey. He closed his eyes and with his thumbs caressed the arch of its brows and circled beneath, paused at the dip and brushed across the bulge of the eyes, lash lines, curves of her nose, edges of nostrils, the bend of the Nath, laugh lines beneath the raised cheeks, margin and soft folds of her lips, and the small chin that felt like cliff to his fingers that he let fall through her neck. He involuntarily rested his hands on her shoulders and closed his eyes as if to store it all.
When he opened his eyes a still countenance covered in smooth clay was looking back at him. The lips quivered and opened wide, from between the lips a red flap crawled out and hung by the lower lip like a frozen stream of blood. Meanwhile, the clay parched and peeled off the cheeks revealing blotches of luminous blue from underneath. The eyes flashed at him and pupils glowed like embers. The dark of the mouth exhaled divine wrath that burned on his face. He stood up extricating himself from the grip of that sight, his face covered in sweat.
"...is this your first-time boy?" the woman draped in yellow saree smiled, her glass bangles gave off soft jingles as she reached for his collar "or did you remember your virtues?" she whispered coyly. "Do you even have a tongue in there, you better, you know you can speak if you like", she spoke fiddling with the second button of his white Kurta.
He hurtled out of the door.
That night in his dark room, he sat up on his rug, leaning against the bare wall digging dry clay lodged under his fingers.
"you don't forget the virtues of a man", his baba had said adding a fistful of soil into the mound of fresh clay.
When he asked why that handful of soil was called virtues of a man, he had said a man leaves his virtues outside the brothel with his shoes when he enters one.
Why not walk with shoes on? He thought.
On a Tuesday evening, he skipped his usual routine and walked the distance that he had sworn never to. He crossed the street and walked past the tall buildings that shortened with every step towards the west. At the end of the street blooming bougainvillea guarded a brothel. In the aangan of a little cottage, two metal wires were fastened from one end to another. A bright yellow Saree stretched across the wire. The water collected at its shiny hem coalesced into a glass bead and plummeted to the soggy ground with sublime tranquil. They shattered noiselessly, and disappeared.
Ali kneeled on the soil, outside the door, lifted the red pair of flip flops, and scrathed the soil with his fingers. From the pockets of his kurta he took out a paper, uncreased, wrapped the soil, stood up and left.
He heard a voice behind him, "oye mute you owe me money!" It was her. He faced her and quickly restrained the temptation to run his fingers across her face. It seemed to him scars are more visible in the light. He had not noticed the wound the last time he saw her. He wanted her to know that his last visit here was to compensate for the injury. He could not. Instead, he scooped out a crumpled twenty rupees note and handed her. "And my name is Videhi, next time you need me, call me by my name, save your statues!" She said with a titter touching the small round scab formed
He thought how ironic it was for a prostitute to have such a name and walked faster.
He did not sleep for two consecutive nights.
A beam of evening light entered the small wooden framed window facing west. Dust suspended in the light band like illuminated specks of gold. In the west, at the end of tapered columns of houses, the sun imitated a dying flame. The cast on the otherwise light grey concrete grew bigger and darker, more animated than the body. It was a Friday evening. Fridays meant white for Ali although once it had meant saffron. He was clad in the only set of stark white muslin kurta salwar he owned and wore a skull cap. His unusually dense and unkempt black hair flowed down his ears. His wide shoulders made his head look smaller than it was. Extensions of his hands pressed on either side did not match the masculine upper bearings for they were slender, soft on the tips. Sediments of clay lodged underneath his short fingernails and above the cuticles. There bent in a bow with his knees pressed in his chest, he looked like a tortoise. As he raised his head, his shadow on the floor moved like a seeping pool of black water almost displacing air. The head in the shadow bulged as it crawled on a still pair of feet of a gilded statue of Ganesh. A pair of eyes, like cool embers, witnessed him praying for the fourth time today.
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