THE ONE OBJECT Bharti Kher has been carrying on her person for at least 13 years does not belong to her, even though she possesses it, not in a Zen-like way, but as an embodiment, or a silent witness that discreetly records every sensuous incident she has since experienced. That singular blue pendant in the shape of a votive eye has hung by a chain around her neck each time I’ve met her; first, years ago, as an artist acquaintance, someone I’d see at art openings in Delhi, someone whose work moved me but who I admired distantly, and gradually, as a cherished friend, someone with whom I’d spend more than half an evening at a party, immersed in deep, unencumbered conversation, speaking about bodies and motherhood, sex and creativity.…
