Qalb

Click here for an audio guide by Srila Chatterjee

On the last day of the world I would want to plant a tree.
W.S. Merwin, The Rain in the Trees (1998, A.A. Knopf).

At this juncture, the garden, our home, looks bleak and withered. The threat could be
superficial, or it is possible that the rancour destroyed the land. Recovery depends on
how deep our roots go.

We come to the last tree in this garden.

Is it Kalpavriksha that grants boons?
Is it the Zaqqum that emerges from the heart of hell?
Or the Waq-Waq that grows and procreates on its own?

It could be any tree you want it to be. The faces on the tree are silent– whether in
damnation or in salvation – that is for you to decide.

बो ल ये थो ड़ा वक़्त बहुत है
जि स्म ओ ज़बाँ की मौ त से पहले
बो ल कि सच ज़िं दा है अब तक
बो ल जो कुछ कहना है कह ले
-फ़ैज़ अहमद फ़ैज़

bol ye thoḍā waqt bahut hai 
jism o zabāñ kī maut se pahle
bol ki sach zinda hai ab tak
bol jo kuchh kahnā hai kah le

Speak, there is enough time,
Before the death of the body and voice,
Speak, for the truth is still alive
Speak out, say everything you want.
-Faiz Ahmed Faiz

Qalb is your beating heart, and your moral compass. The heart is free to choose a path.
The garden is yours to re-plant and to interpret.

Size: height 84 in. x breadth 58 in. x depth 58 in.

Materials: Armature made from scrap metal and wrapped with sacred thread; found clay heads, thread, and a single scrap metal flower.