For three months I have been fighting with the black. The soot I make from the lamp is good but it sits too heavy on the paper, it does not behave like the old black my grandmother used to get. She would not tell me her method fully, only laugh and say the tree knows.

So this January I pressed a whole branch of pipal leaves under bricks on the roof. My wife thought I have lost my mind, leaves drying in the sun like that. Yesterday I ground them with a little water and the paste came out a deep green-black, and on the handmade paper it dries to a soft charcoal that takes the fine line beautifully. Not shiny, not flat. Like the leaves are still breathing under the line.

I have been painting fish all morning with it. The border work especially looks better than anything I did last year with bought ink. My son says I am being sentimental but he is young, he does not understand that the pigment carries the memory of the tree. The line works because the colour has patience in it.

Maybe I will press more leaves before the monsoon. The old methods are slow but they do not disappoint.