My head never made sense with all the halla hu made for him.More importantly, I have never been able to judge a person according to the newspapers. So the first time my head actually registered his existence was when he was no more existing!
M. F Hussain is considered to be the Picasso of India. Why? That was all I thought when I read many articles on the paper; some about his history, some about his paintings, more about the paintings which weren't accepted, and also about his citizenship. I sympathized and I decided to check out his paintings sometime. I never really checked it out though..But it isn't as hard to search for his work as it is to understand it. Confident strokes, bright colours, horses and women, at least that's how I know him.Though its not what I want to say. Its about the time I met him.
City, crowd, pointless race and work was making me miss my simpler lifestyle. A life I had in the village; in Palakkad. I tried talking to myself, keeping in touch with the people yet the craving wouldn't stop. I had a strong feeling of 'Kerala', my village, my neighbors (to whom I hardly spoke). And sitting in my painting class, I was rummaging through the books and posters for my next painting. Instinctively I was picking up people paintings, fishermen, villagers, market place. Longingly I stared at each of them for minutes. Will painting them make me feel better or actually closer to them? Should I quit the city and run away to them once more all over again? (Yes! Yes! Yes! ..)
That was the moment when my hands fell on a huge painting poster, mostly torn from the ends, it was a portrait of a lady. My heart skipped a beat, when I read something in Malayalam. Wondering the name of the Malayali artist I looked at the signature, which was again in Malayalam. Thanks to the beatings from my teacher and scoldings from my mother, I have managed to remember the letters of the language. Doing all possible permutations, I figured it was M F Hussain!
I am not sure what it was, the coconut tree, the lady wearing the mundu, the elephant, the Ganesha or the garland twined on the lady's hair, the Malayalam letters, the effort of the artist to go into such details.. or just the fact that I felt touched and understood..
Impulsively encouraged by my art teacher, I decided to paint the same. And coming back home I understood what was written on the left side of the painting
'Kalyanikutty yude Keralom'
I type down a poem from his film 'Meenaxi' .. and would leave the thoughts incomplete..
Koi mile ke bichde, Yahan kisko kya padi hai,
Koi mile ke bichde, Yahan kisko kya padi hai,
Sab log chal rahe hai, Duniya yehi khadi hai.
Khamoshiyon se kahiye, Chalkar jara pukare,
Khamoshiyon se kahiye, Chalkar jara pukare,
Khawbon ki junglon se, aayi hai kya bahare.
Neendon ka yeh zamana, Bas aur do gadi hai,
Sab log chal rahe hai, Duniya yehi khadi hai.
Ankhon mein khusboo ke manzar wahi kilenge,
Lagta hai chalte chalte, Khud se wahi milenge.
Manzil hamare khad se, bas do kadam badi hai,
Sab log chal rahe hai, Duniya yehi khadi hai.
http://www.deccanchronicle.com/tabloid/kochi/searching-elusive-kalyanikutty-359
M. F Hussain is considered to be the Picasso of India. Why? That was all I thought when I read many articles on the paper; some about his history, some about his paintings, more about the paintings which weren't accepted, and also about his citizenship. I sympathized and I decided to check out his paintings sometime. I never really checked it out though..But it isn't as hard to search for his work as it is to understand it. Confident strokes, bright colours, horses and women, at least that's how I know him.Though its not what I want to say. Its about the time I met him.
City, crowd, pointless race and work was making me miss my simpler lifestyle. A life I had in the village; in Palakkad. I tried talking to myself, keeping in touch with the people yet the craving wouldn't stop. I had a strong feeling of 'Kerala', my village, my neighbors (to whom I hardly spoke). And sitting in my painting class, I was rummaging through the books and posters for my next painting. Instinctively I was picking up people paintings, fishermen, villagers, market place. Longingly I stared at each of them for minutes. Will painting them make me feel better or actually closer to them? Should I quit the city and run away to them once more all over again? (Yes! Yes! Yes! ..)
That was the moment when my hands fell on a huge painting poster, mostly torn from the ends, it was a portrait of a lady. My heart skipped a beat, when I read something in Malayalam. Wondering the name of the Malayali artist I looked at the signature, which was again in Malayalam. Thanks to the beatings from my teacher and scoldings from my mother, I have managed to remember the letters of the language. Doing all possible permutations, I figured it was M F Hussain!
Impulsively encouraged by my art teacher, I decided to paint the same. And coming back home I understood what was written on the left side of the painting
'Kalyanikutty yude Keralom'
I type down a poem from his film 'Meenaxi' .. and would leave the thoughts incomplete..
Koi mile ke bichde, Yahan kisko kya padi hai,
Koi mile ke bichde, Yahan kisko kya padi hai,
Sab log chal rahe hai, Duniya yehi khadi hai.
Khamoshiyon se kahiye, Chalkar jara pukare,
Khamoshiyon se kahiye, Chalkar jara pukare,
Khawbon ki junglon se, aayi hai kya bahare.
Neendon ka yeh zamana, Bas aur do gadi hai,
Sab log chal rahe hai, Duniya yehi khadi hai.
Ankhon mein khusboo ke manzar wahi kilenge,
Lagta hai chalte chalte, Khud se wahi milenge.
Manzil hamare khad se, bas do kadam badi hai,
Sab log chal rahe hai, Duniya yehi khadi hai.
http://www.deccanchronicle.com/tabloid/kochi/searching-elusive-kalyanikutty-359
Goood one!!
ReplyDeleteNaren
Thanks Naren :)
ReplyDelete