How can anyone not like Dhobi Ghat!!!

Watched it…loved it! How can anyone not like it? Everything about the movie seems so fresh, including the actors. Prateik is definitely a guy to watch out for. Everybody was so natural. As a debutant, Kiran Rao has done a wonderful job. So, I guess she is also someone to watch out for.

But there is something else, I wanted to write. Once, I had once written a story about a painter and his name was Arun. Somehow, when I heard that the painter’s name in the movie was Arun, I smiled. And thought of putting that story here. So here goes...

 ~~~

“There is no abstract art. You must always start with something. Afterward you can remove all traces of reality.” 

~ Pablo Picasso

Lots of paintings there. Lots of them…some play with reality and some with imagination…

Once a senior, while ragging Anna, asked, “What sorts of painting do you like?”  She replied, “Modern Art, Abstract Art. Sir”

“Why that? Modern art is so confusing and incoherent. You could twist the picture, put it upside down and it would still appear the same. Tell me, how could you possibly distinguish between two abstract paintings and rate them?”

“Well, why would I need to? And how can you rate and compare the music composed by Mozart and Beethoven?”

Anna had clearly exaggerated, but also driven her point home. Arun was impressed.  With time, they became good friends and ended up doing a lot of projects together. Somehow, somewhere Anna got bored of abstract art and Arun took to abstract photography. Anna was more inspired by Indian painters, Nandalal Bose being her favourite at that time. Arun on the other hand was a big fan of the B&W style of Ansel Easton Adams. Though with time, his subjects became vague. Despite their varied interests and different electives in college, they still continued to spend a lot of time together.  Their hectic schedule never stopped them from meeting each other. They were like each other’s “morning’s cup of tea”.

Soon the bond of friendship deepened into something more, with romantic overtures to it. They started living and behaving like a couple, except they had little or no direction at all. They both loved their work and spending time in each other’s company but never thought beyond that. Flames arose. But no one wondered or thought about how it could char a part of them.

And as expected, it didn’t last. This was not Anna’s happy story with a happy ending.  Soon one could see cracks emerging, some of which had to do with their chosen lifestyles. Arun couldn’t get over his obsession with fame and money, which is one of the reasons he submitted himself to Abstract art. Somehow, that form was becoming very popular amongst the “rich and famous”. Suddenly, people had started cultivating interest and appreciated it. It wasn’t such a bad thing to happen, except Arun now got his motivation more from this requirement than passion. On the other hand, Anna was slowly getting disillusioned about the entire environment.

“I am searching for abstract ways of expressing reality, abstract forms that will enlighten my own mystery.”

“Why are you searching for abstraction when you have reality?”

“So that people use their imagination and intellect to understand my message”

“What message are you trying to convey by confusing people?”

“Any message. There should be subtlety in aesthetics.”

“But isn’t art, poetry, literature a form of making the common man understand and comprehend your thoughts?”

“I don’t do stuff for the common man. I have an elite audience”

“Even then, there is a reality. Why not just portray that in clear and simple terms?”

“Oh come on Anna, won’t that be very crude and rude? Plus that would be very unpleasant to eyes, who’d buy my work then? No one wants to put a coloured picture of a vulture waiting for a child to die in a desert in Africa on their walls! Think about your patrons. In fact I’ve been invited to showcase my work in a famous art gallery. Have you heard of Domus? They have expressed interest in me. Things are beginning to look good.”

Everything Arun said and did had to do with the buyers. Somewhere he had started making compromises and Anna couldn’t quite recognize him anymore. He began socializing more and yet seemed distant, cold and indifferent.  Slowly they drifted apart, without any formal goodbyes.

Domus Art Gallery was established in Kolkata and later branched out to Delhi. It had grown with a view to promote contemporary Indian Art…a perfect place to showcase and promote monochrome photographs of emerging talent, like Arun’s. The important thing was that this gallery was also associated with well known auction houses in India and abroad. And, that evening, it was showcasing works of a new fairly artist at IHC.

It had rained in the morning in Delhi and that meant a cold and depressing winter evening. The only reason Anna had decided to venture out to IHC after a hectic day and watch “The Players” was because of an old friend who was playing a small part in that drama.  He was terribly excited about it and she couldn’t let him down. And then, who knows…it could turn out to be fun.

And then, just as she was passing by one of the blocks, she saw a board which said something about an Art exhibition.  What sort of Art exhibition? Whose show it was? Was it some famous person?

Domus Gallery!!! And then, suddenly and out of the blue it reminded her of Arun. Where was he? How was he doing? It had been a few years since college and Anna was now working in an Advertising agency in Delhi. Despite her efforts at becoming an artist, she never quite found any buyers. She didn’t know how to market her work and never knew how to paint as per the demand. So she decided to take up a profession which allowed her to be creative and pay for the room rent. She knew that somewhere she might have sold herself short but atleast she wasn’t a fake.

It read, showcasing work of Arun S.Upadhyay.

She almost froze in her tracks, not knowing what to do. Should she go in and congratulate him? That would be the logical thing to do. She had heard of his exhibitions before but never visited them. Typically, entry was for invited guests only but that wouldn’t have mattered for an old classmate. But then, they were more than that. They used to be more than that.

So, this time, she decided that enough was enough. If nothing else, they were classmates and friends at one point of time. She stood in front of the stairs of the building wondering and trying to come up with reasons as to why she shouldn’t see his work and encourage him, atleast once? But then, did he need her encouragement at all. She thought not. Yet…

Anna almost forced herself to take a few steps forward and found herself in the reception. How had his paintings and life changed in all these years? Had his views changed with time? If not, what was the point in meeting again? She already knew that he had achieved considerable success. How could her presence help? What difference would it make? Yet…

No, she couldn’t. However hard she tried, she simply couldn’t get into the elevator. A sort of fatigue and disinterest grew over her, everytime the thought of exploring the gallery came in to her mind. And so, just as she had walked towards the building and almost wandered into the reception…in the same way she walked out. Totally unnoticed and somewhere, wonderfully relieved. 

No, some pages don’t need to be turned.

And, she walked away and disappeared into the dark.

Arun on the other hand was busy conversing with connoisseurs of his art who were praising his work. No doubt, he was good at his work. With a glass of Malt whisky in his right hand and a cigarette in the other, he looked towards his left with an effort to adjust his shirt. The wind was acting up and it was time to get inside. And just as he cast the cigarette bud over the balcony, he saw a silhouette, walking towards the open air theater. It seemed like an extension of his photographs, with a terribly familiar walk.   He kept staring at it till it disappeared. No, he didn’t wave, didn’t call either. He could have, but didn’t. Even in the dark and after so many years, he knew.

Slowly, he turned towards his patrons and went inside.

Some paintings can never be restored.

~~~

Just like in the movie, in life everything isn't always well defined. You meet people, some of whom travel with you forever in whatever capacity and some you leave behind for whatever reasons. Sometimes there are no reasons. People are just gone, erased from your memory.

The movie (unlike the story above) though has to do with the city and its people, more than inter personal relationships. But then again, what makes a city - it's people! All kinds of people - the ones who play with colours, the ones who create a painting, the ones who appreciate them and the ones who spoil them.