Fingerprints

Fingerprints are our unique identifiers — the thing that makes us us. They’re also used by bureaucracies and systems to identify, sort and systematise populations. In a modern life — fingerprints have become part of the personal data we relinquish ownership through. Synchronised with our phone numbers, addresses, tax records and other data, our fingerprints created by our most recent class took on their own lives, as metaphors labyrinthine state bureaucracies, for individual acts of statehood within the societal collective, and spaces to reclaim who we are and wish to be.

I am making my brain. And an apple. I love apple as a fruit. But also because it is a good example. An apple a day keeps the doctor away. Apple of my eye. Even a rotten apple. My brain is full of all these words, and this is an apple that I want to be like.

When stress is high, coffee calms my nerves down. It’s the same attention I’m taking to make this beautiful thing. It what makes my mind relax.

I am making nature. A tree, a lake a duck. And I may make a sun. I’m allowed to make only one sun right? Or can I make more?

I’m making a tree. I don’t know what to make. I’ve never made anything before. I’m trying. I’m not accepting defeat. You only get somewhere in life when you try.

It’s a candle. When you make your fingerprint it blackens the page. But when the candle comes, there’s light.

“I am using pens. I like greenery. I like colours. I like a lot of colours together.”

“Anything else you want to say?”

“Yes”

“Go on”

“Mere life mein bhi aise ran bhar jaaye”