From breakfast on through all the day
At home among my friends I stay,
But every night I go abroad
Afar into the land of Nod.
All by myself I have to go,
With none to tell me what to do —
All alone beside the streams
And up the mountain-sides of dreams.
The strangest things are there for me,
Both things to eat and things to see,
And many frightening sights abroad
Till morning in the land of Nod.
Try as I like to find the way,
I never can get back by day,
Nor can remember plain and clear
The curious music that I hear.
Robert Louis Stevenson
And when Cain, the tiller of the land, was cursed by the Lord after killing his brother Abel, he “went out of the presence of the Lord” and lived a life of a fugitive. And Cain, now the landloper, settled in the Land of Nod, the mysterious land of wandering. Protected by his dubious mark (the Mark of Cain), the eternal immigrant is swept into a twilight zone: the sleepy province of dreams the in-between space of migration.
Threshold Art Gallery
C221, Sarvodaya Enclave, New Delhi, 110017