| For many years now, they have been seen (and gossiped about) in each other's company""like a couple that has grown old together. |
| Somewhat simply, Bawa writes in the Foreword to this book: "And then I found Ina and Ina found me." |
| The book is a collaboration between the two""Puri is working on another book on Bawa's art""and at the outstart, Bawa makes it clear that "Most biographies make demigods of their subjects: everyone seems to have been born a god and died a god. That's not possible. I wanted my voice to speak truthfully." |
| Bawa knows his colours, perhaps better than most, but when it comes to the black and white, they're a little more difficult to understand. The prejudices he faced at the Delhi College of Art""as a Sikh artist who was also non-conforming""are briefly dredged up, in particular the rudeness of Biren De, Somnath Hore and Jaya Appaswamy. Later, with his success on the one hand, and his failed marriage on the other, Puri makes note of the many women who came to him. For the rest, there's little by way of voyeurism here. Instead, the book tells a lyrical, Sufi-like tale of a boy with no particular endowment, given to arm wrestling, born into an aristocratic but poor family, who grows up to hone a prodigious talent. |
| Bawa was born in a cowshed; later, he would paint cows (and goats, and Krishna) with particular passion. However, he seemed to spend the better part of his childhood running barefoot, getting into neighbourhood squabbles, and making a mockery of his studies. His gentle father would tell him historical and mythical stories late into the night. When an elder brother used him as a model (he was a commercial artist), the junior Bawa was first exposed to the magic of paper and pencil. Later, he would travel extensively around India. When he found his calling and enrolled at the Delhi College of Art, he rejected the enforced study of abstraction, refused to comply with the Western school's orientation towards browns and greys, and was so enraged by the institution's insistence of forced study that he refused to apply for an overseas scholarship. |
| He did go away, however, with a British group travelling overland in a van, and made London his temporary home; there, he adopted certain sophistications, but at heart he retained his ability as raconteur and friend. These, along with his ability to cook simply but well, were to stay with him for the rest of his life. |
| When he came home to marry Sharda, and returned to London, things soured. |
| Sharda refused to have anything to do with (particularly) his lady friends, but between them they had little in common. Worse lay ahead. Their son, Ravi, was hearing impaired, and was diagnosed as not "all there". Things fell rapidly apart after that, and though they made one attempt at a patch-up (and had another child, a daughter)""the Bawas were never together again. |
| Of the things that did go right for Manjit Bawa were critical acclaim for his work, the graduation of his oeuvre to the now-familiar, balloon-like characters against a flat (therefore theatrical) background, and the fulfilment of a long-cherished dream of owning property in Dalhousie. It was here, to Mehar's Hotel, that he would escape for months altogether, to draw and draw, then draw again the figures that would paint his canvases with so much life. It was here he would seek exclusion. |
| Feted, famous; lonely, alone. Manjit Bawa's two faces occupy the space between the covers of this book, all the more poignant because he has been rendered still by cerebral haemorrhage. As his friends, family and Puri keep vigil by his side, one can't help but be drawn to a persona that seems as steeped in Sufism as his canvases. |
| IN BLACK & WHITE The Authorized Biography of Manjit Bawa |
| Penguin/Viking Ina Puri Price: Rs 425; Pages: 237 |
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