Miss Hussain... Miss His Works.

Actually, I had written this piece in a cyber café the day after Hussain Saab died. But thanks to the technology there all that remained was a blank sheet at the end. The icing on this was, the cafe owner demanding money for utilizing his piece of junk which he claims is a top-end computer. This, after calling him over and giving him ample time to save the write up on the comp – which he couldn’t do. Ah! Talk of looting, the Indian way.

Back to my favorite artist. Actually, when someone in the agency screamed Maqbool Fida Hussain passed away. I hardly paid any notice. Thinking it was someone else. Not for one moment relating it to the world renowned Indian artist. While the world was feeling for the loss of this virtuoso, I was, in fact, hardly aware of it. Only when the front lines in the newspaper screamed at me the next day, did I knew of it.

Ironically, as if some divine force was hinting that his stay on earth was almost edging to a finish, I, only a few days before the ill-fated event, downloaded a painting of his as a memoir, hoping I would hang it in the living room after furnishing it with other collaterals (I am not so rich to own a real Hussain, not yet though.). The only time I saw Hussain’s real work was a mural deftly crafted on a huge expanse of a wall in my dad’s office. While it colorfully sat on the wall I know it also conspicuously stood out. I, like many others, agree his works transcend time and each piece looks like it has been specially crafted for that era.

Although I have a vague recollection of the mural I have seen years ago, I still take time to google-search his works on the web. His horses were something that blew my imagination every time and kept me wanting to see more. The bold strokes. The fiery play of colours. The complex emotions…yes, these works carried the hallmark of a true genius. And there’s none who could beat him easily at this game on the eastern horizon.

Of course, many Indian artists vehemently refuse to agree on this. But one would easily see through that they are only burning with envy. Hussain was the only artist who, in fact, brought all the Indian artists’ works into international limelight. His jacked-up prices for his works not only caused a ruffle but actually garnered global reputation for Indian art. Instead of heaping praises on such an individual, these flocks only sulk. Which I feel is downright intolerable.

I have been and will always be a huge fan of his. I feel no shame to state this. Of course, I don’t support his vagrant artistic indulgence which hurt religious sentiments of people but when you overlook the part that makes him look “shady”, you see beyond: a man who literally painted the town red. M. F. Hussain truly deserves everyone’s praise.

P.S: Some have told me that the name M.F. Hussain is wrongly spelt with a double 'ss' in this post but I have intentionally retained it like many others writers - who did so keeping in context with the standard pronunciation rules. Yes, M.F Hussain does sign his works with a single 's.'

Sighting the “Davidson” in Hyderabad

Ever set your eye on the TV serial Biker Build Off? Cool, isn‘t it? Well, I like the serial to the hilt. Especially, the guy with the big, fuzzy moustache and paunchy stomach who kind of throws his weight around. I also like his son, who covers over his dad’s remarks, but holds his ground. In fact, I like everything about this serial.

What really makes me get glued and my eyes popping is the way they build bikes here. Taking raw materials and making them roar with life of their own is something that goes over my head. When I think of the sheer brute strength this machine holds when it’s all done up, my mind trips -– Just think of 1000 plus cc engine. It has power enough to pull ten strong individuals with comfortable ease. Now, imagine this engine mounted on a single bike which is designed to pull only one or at the most two. The power instantly becomes a factor of envy and praise!

Biker Build Off serial is all about building such bikes. And the serial is planned in such a way that the viewer is taken through shots which show how the bike is built right from the scratch. From the initial blue prints to the final design, capturing everything - even the mechanics’ moods while putting the bike together- the strain, the anger, the frustration and eventually the arrogant, no-compromise attitude which complements the bike.

An ardent fan of these sturdy bikes, last Sunday, I was actually waiting in line for my turn to fill petrol, when my eyes suddenly caught sight of a Davidson. I couldn’t believe it, but the no mistaking writing on the canary colored beauty was there: Harley Davidson. I simply sliced through the line and pulled my bike along side this awesome machine. The biker was completely taken aback by the sudden intrusion but when I politely enquired where he bought it, he relaxed. With his heart obviously swelling with pride and a mocking smile on his face, he replied that he bought the bike a couple of years ago and it was a 2005 model.

I was puzzled. Since Harley David showroom opened only this year in Hyderabad how could he…? Noticing the baffled look on my face, he immediately added that he had actually bought the bike in England and got it shipped to India. While I was just recovering from the thought how far some guys would go chasing their passions, this guy dropped another bombshell when he mentioned that he had bought the bike merely for only Rs. 12,00,000.

He so effortlessly mentioned the sum, that the only thing that escaped my mouth, was a low sounding whistle. When he found that he had the desired effect on me, he zoomed off, leaving me in a cloud of dust. That day, I realized an important truth. Harley Davidson might be all designed to scorch the roads, but it could burn a hole in the pocket that easily too.

The Silent Anthem

I had seen a static clip of this on FB, but never bothered to watch it. But somehow, I feel fate has its way of bringing our way things that we MUST see. I saw this at the Ad Club of Hyderabad’s Block Buster 2011 – The Silent Anthem. The beauty of watching it on a 7-feet screen with music at its loudest best is inexpressible. I had goose bumps all over and my heart instantly attuned to the arresting staccato actions of the physically challenged. The anthem swept the 200-odd crowd off their feet.

I feel such a strong connect with this song, when I am in India; I wonder what reactions it would bring forth out of Indians who watch this clip in some other country. I am sure their hearts would swell with pride while tears inexorably rush down their cheeks. A wonderfully shot National Anthem! Yes, it’s truly a ‘’Mera Bharat Mahan!” kinds.

The Empty Chair

A man's daughter had asked the parish priest to come and pray with her father. When the priest arrived, he found the man lying in bed with his head propped up on two pillows. An empty chair sat beside his bed. The priest assumed that the old fellow had been informed of his visit. "I guess you were expecting me," he said. "No, who are you?" said the father. The priest told him his name and then remarked, "I see the empty chair; I figured you knew I was going to show up." "Oh yeah, the chair," said the bedridden man. "Would you mind closing the door?" Puzzled, the priest shut the door. "I have never told anyone this, not even my daughter," said the man. "But all of my life I have never known how to pray. At church I used to hear the pastor talk about prayer, but it went right over my head. "I abandoned any attempt at prayer, until one day about four years ago my best friend said to me, 'Johnny, prayer is just a simple matter of having a conversation with Jesus. Here is what I suggest: Sit down in a chair and place an empty chair in front of you. In faith see Jesus in that chair. It's not spooky because he promised: 'I'll be with you always.' Then just speak to him in the same way you're doing with me right now.' "So I tried it and I've liked it so much that I do it a couple of hours every day. I'm careful though. If my daughter saw me talking to an empty chair, she'd either have a nervous breakdown or send me off to the funny farm." The priest was deeply moved by the story and encouraged the old man to continue on the journey. Then he prayed with him, anointed him with oil, and returned to the church. Two nights later the daughter called to tell the priest that her daddy had died that afternoon. "Did he die in peace?" he asked. "Yes, when I left the house about two o'clock, he called me over to his bedside, told me he loved me and kissed me on the cheek. When I got back from the store an hour later, I found him dead. But there was something strange about his death. Apparently, just before Daddy died, he leaned over and rested his head in the chair beside the bed. What do you make of that?" The priest wiped a tear from his eye and said, "I wish we could all go like that."

A Classic in its Own Right.

I might be little late on this one. But as the clichéd adage goes “Better late than never” I have decided to talk about the movie that left an indelible mark on my mind. If you haven’t seen the movie, “The pursuit of Happyness”, well, I can only ask on which planet are you living?!

I suggest you beg, borrow or steal a DVD of this movie, because it’s truly one-in-a-million kinds. Believe me; directors are not in a rush to dish out such classics. Besides, this is not a mushy-mushy sort of a movie where the ladies smudge their mascara or men hide their tears sneezing into hankies, but one that instantly strikes a chord. One, which tells that there is hope at the end of the tunnel.

The dialogues in this movie too are delicate, yet teasing. I especially liked the discourse between the interviewers and the interviewee (Will Smith). Let me give you the gist of it: in the movie, due to some inexorable circumstances, Chris Gardner (Will Smith) turns up at the interview in a vest and a pair of jeans with a bit of paint smeared on his face and hair. Initially, the interviewers are taken aback by his appearance, but nevertheless carry on with the interview. At the end, the big man finally asks, “What would you think if I hired someone who walks in with a paint-smeared face and a vest for an interview?” Christopher Gardner, without batting an eyelid, says, “I would think he must be putting on some damn good pants!” The entire room breaks into laughter. Chris lands the job. But alas! Without a pay.

Yep, I could go on telling lot of things about Chris, how he juggles stock broking, part-time job and a parent life. In fact, this story makes me recollect reading somewhere ‘When life throws a lemon, turn the tables around, and make a glass of lemonade.’ Interesting?! Well, one can easily take a leaf or two from Christopher on this theme. What comes across as pure icing is that this movie is actually an adaptation of a real life story. In other words, Christopher Gardner is not just a name of the hero in the reel life, but in real life too!

That’s what lends credibility to the story. Hats off, Christopher Gardner!

Puzzling Picassos!

I love art. Any kind. Whether it’s scripting, painting, acting or any other, I wouldn’t mind giving my right arm to indulge or be a part of these works. Well, talking of giving one’s right arm, wasn’t it Vincent Van Gogh, the artist known for his works like Sunflowers, Starry Nights , The Café and so on, who, unable to bear the tension between him and his girlfriend, had actually cut off the lower part of his ear and gave it to a prostitute? Gruesome! I still find it hard to believe, but that’s what Van Gogh had actually done. I am at loggerheads as to who should be blamed for this. But knowing girls, I wouldn’t blame Van Gogh much for this. But if you take my personal opinion, I don’t think any girl’s worth an ear. Or a part of it. ;)

Well, only a couple of days ago, I was talking to another artist, whose works I greatly appreciate, about most eminent artists being imbalanced. No, not in their professional lives but in their personal lives. This artist, who lives a much deviated life himself, came up with another equally shocking and ghastly story. Picasso, I believe, used to frequent dubious places to quench his thirst for drinking. After one such no-holds-barred session, his friend, who was completely sloshed, approached him and asked him to do a painting. When enquired where the canvas was, the friend bared his back and handed him a knife. Without backing out, Picasso did a marvelous knife-carving on his friend’s back. This infamous skin sculpting, I suppose, is now carefully preserved. But no one is quite sure whether this work has gone under the hammer or not. Gruesome, isn’t it?!

If you ever peruse any of Picasso’s works, you would only scream: “These are not the works of an artist but of a juvenile delinquent or a retard.” Ironically, there are countless individuals who see the genius behind these obnoxious pieces. Some connoisseurs will part with half of their wealth without ever blinking eyes merely to posses one of these pieces.

That leaves ordinary individuals like me yearning to own a Picasso. What with the sky-high prices they are auctioned at, even if I seriously plan to own one, it would take years and years of toil apart from mortgaging ancestral property. I might even be compelled to rob a bank or two. ;) Consequently, I stumbled upon an idea. Why not make a replica. I know I could never ever match a Picasso. But the thought of walking in his tracks definitely lends a kind of high. Therefore, the above imitation.

A few New Year Thoughts

2010 year has been a tremendous year. I was able to tick off lot of things from my to-do list. But if one has to impress himself or his loved ones (Who actually are quite difficult to please!), there are still many more tiring miles to tread. The very thought sends shivers down the body. But again, if you don’t travel, you get trodden. So one has no choice but to pull his socks and cry: “2011 here I come!”

On another plateau, I recollect reading a CEO advising his colleagues to avoid “the distractions of the digital world.” Though the phrase sounds fancy, there’s a bit of hidden truth in it. Don’t we get carried away chatting with friends without being time-wise, mulling over models or actresses pictures on the yahoo page (whom you can’t distinguish much from mannequins because of similarity of brains) or checking out unrelated sites, while paying two hoots to the time we lose? Ah! The distractions of the digital world. They could take your 24 hours and make them look like one minute. This year, one of my top, top resolutions would be to stay focused on how I utilize my time. Apart from this, another resolution I’d like to share here is, one - where I plan to make at least 100 blog posts in 2011. I hope I will stick to this as it is undoubtedly a daunting task for a guy who is buried neck-deep in marketing.

Lastly, for the readers who have been patiently reading my incessant banter… Here’s wishing you all a healthy, fun-filled and prosperous New Year 2011!