Sidharth, it seems, is aware of the long and rich tradition of Baramasa poetry, those wonderful series of paintings whether from Rajasthan or the Pahari region, folk songs on the seasons sung in the countryside everywhere. But in his own work, as he approaches the theme of the Baramasa, he prefers to plough a different furrow. There are no narratives, not even seeming narratives: in these paintings his intent is to take flight on the wings of all the sights seen and sounds heard in his growing years. In full awareness of all that is there is in the tradition, he moves into a dream-like state in this work: birds gather densely amidst tree branches as if to replace leaves; gentle forms glide in space to the accompaniment of soft-winged peacocks; clouds rumble as if making up their minds before bursting into rain. Yellows take on the aspect of burnished gold, reds are like silk dyed in scarlet with mallow juice, blues shimmer like lapis under the rays of a rising sun.