(DESIGN ARCHIVE) (THE MAIDEN FROM AJMER)

The Maiden from Ajmer

THE BRIEF

The Maiden from Ajmer is an illustrated book based on the ballad, 'The Lady of Shallot' by Lord Alfred Tennyson. I have re-written the poem, and condensed and adapted to an Indian context. It tells the story of a young woman imprisoned in a tower on a river island, and is a metaphor for the life and tales of an artist in the modern world.

Having been an admirer of this story for many years now, I decided to try and tell it in a different way.

Collage was used as the style of illustration as it kept best with the enigma of the poem. Colour and abstraction have been employed to create a mood, lay emphasis where necessary, and distort perception. The text is handwritten to bring out the human emotions the Maiden falls victim to.

In the river to Jaisalmer there lies,
A blanket of madhumati floating by,
An island embowered in champa till the sky,
Sunbeams and shadows both overfly,
The minaret, straight to Jaisalmer.

Within four gray walls enclosed tight,
You can hear her singing monring night,
Who they call a pari, sonorous delight,
The maiden from Ajmer.

In solitude a charmed parda she weaves,
A curse is on her if she would cease,
To entwine the thread and choose to leave,
This constrained life, although in peace,
And go to Jaisalmer.

And in a mirror, she watches the prose,
The world goes by the joyous the morose,
And flatly, “I’m half sick of shadows,”
Said the maiden from Ajmer.

Reins, conch, armour and steed,
Helmet and sword in the sunlight gleamed,
He saw her sparkling in his shield,
She saw the reflection of a knight kneeled,
The bold maharaja Kuber.

A vision of light rode under the moon,
A shining ulka, he sang a tune,
Besotted she looked up from her loom,
And down at mighty Kuber.

The weave unravelled and floated away,
The mirror shattered on the floor astray,

She got up and fled through the stairway,
“The curse is upon me,” in dismay,
Said the maiden from Ajmer.

Through the emerald canopy it hailed,
The river bursting, it spilled and wailed,
In pearl and milk white was she draped,
The maiden from Ajmer.

She unchained the shallop in the stream,
Down she lay and floated under moonbeams,
Her gaze fixed on Jaisalmer, yet unseen,
As all the people came out to see,
The maiden of Ajmer.

Under the stern her name she did write,
Her face pale, her eyes sunken and wide,
Singing her death song she died,
The maiden of Ajmer.

Project done at the National Institue of Design