Whispers of immortality

Rabin Mondal is one of those few artists who did not start by painting 'landscape' or 'still-life'. For decades now, he has been bitterly critical of the deteriorating human condition in his drawings and paintings. Unlike very many Indian artists, Rabin, so far has not adapted his work to the 'market forces'.

Even then, in some of his earlier works, changes at the deeper levels of his psyche were reflected at long intervals, and this became frequent in the last few years. As if he had a fresh vision of life beyond the limits of the Zeitgeist or the Yuga-Chaitanya, which once coloured his emotional responses to life.

Harbingers of such change surfaced in the off-hand drawings in the pages of his journal: lovers, flowers and plants. The dark shadows of death, violence and sickness seem to have been receding slowly.

The time seemed to have moved towards intimations of immortality, ushering in open breathing spaces in compositions, as if celebrating the basic human elements that refuse to die.

Though not particularly handsome and full-bodied, the men and women who appear in the paintings seem to be ready to make a start, leaving the detritus of life behind. The next painting is poetic. The twosome meet in a forest, wrapped in the greenish haze of the woods.

The foliage above their heads is tinged with bright yellow and red and they stand natural, but still 'tainted' with the stigmas from the past. Strangely, the stigmas now appear as a kind of decoration on their bodies.

Another example is the Couple, showing although the ravages of time glow with unusual warmth of the physical closeness of the bodies. The Still Life with Landscape express the artist's 'unbuttoned mood' in terms of 'modernistic' representation of objects and the sudden opening of space in the latter painting. The river with a toy boat flows just beside the table on which stands a flower vase with a pair of spectacles and writing materials around. Here Rabin lives on a plane where dreams cross far beyond the royal interiors, brothels and coronation ceremonies.

In a number of paintings, we see a refreshing surge of open air that carries floating bodies of men, women and animals, all on the same plane, remotely reminiscent of the paradisical coexistence of the species we see in the carvings on the panels of Sanchi Stupa.

It is in this phase we hear for the first time the sound of music, and see lovers listening to the singer. And here for the first time we look at a young boy sitting comfortably on his haunches. His age group was taboo in Rabin's adult world of darkness.

We have seen many of the artist's self-portraits, but this particular painting sends out a clear message that life is still worth living despite all the forces of darkness. Toughened and tainted with the same hieroglyphics of 'sin', the artist appears under a tree and takes a serious look at life through his glasses.

The grim reaper

Some friendshiops never change. Like Rabin's and mine.I remember Rabin from my days as a poet in Kolkata. He lived in Howrah at that time and I, in Park Circus. Every morning, six days a week, I would catch a bus to go to work in Howrah in one of the most depressing and soul-killing factories...And all through this journey, I would stare out of the window and watch faces. Lonely, tired, sad, bored, drab, despairing faces...

Today the factory I worked in no longer exists. In fact, there are hardly any factories left in Howrah any more. They have all shut down. The workers have dispersed. Rabin too has left Howrah and now lives in the Salt Lake area of Kolkata. I have lived in Mumbai since the winter of 1982. But the faces I saw in Howrah have never ceased to haunt me.

As indeed they haunt Rabin's canvases. They are the faces of pain, sorrow, anger, anguish, loneliness, exploitation. But no, not defeat. Not hopelessness.

In fact, never defeat. Never hopelessness. All of Rabin's works are peopled by faces that can never be defeated. They sulk, yes. They suffer, yes. They hang it all out there "" their grief, their anger, their resentment.

Like Christ, Rabin's favourite subject of portraiture, they wear their pain, their oppression on their faces. Each one wears his own crown of thorns. Zizyphus spina Christi.

Yet, despite this, despite their pain and agony, they are people who cannot be defeated by life or its unbearable drudgery. Just like the faces I saw day after day on the narrow, crowded streets of Howrah.

"" Pritish Nandy

From canvas to retrospective

Eight years ago, when I first met Rabin Mondal, I was taken aback by his unassuming, aloof and unworldly persona. I got two of Rabin's works on consignment and returned them to him after three years when they did not evoke any public interest.

Personally, I was not convinced about the fate of his art. Rabin told me that his work does not sell. It drives away people who want pretty pictures as decor for their walls and quite rightfully so. He was rather discouraging as though he didn't want me to look at his works or buy them.

Rabin's honesty triggered in me a determination that I should at least make a trip from Delhi to his Howrah studio to look at the entire oeuvre of his works.

Though Rabin had graciously accepted that his work did not cater to the preferred taste in art, he continued to paint the world with the same sincerity and intensity.

I got even more curious about this introverted artist "" how he began his career and what his preoccupations were from his very early days. My first encounter with the huge body of work at his Howrah studio left me dazed as I said to myself "" "Why wasn't this artist discovered before?"

I was moved by the sheer sincerity of Rabin's pictorial statement, his courage to paint naked reality in all its harshness and painful condition. His was a stark critique on the alienation of mankind and the forces of social inequality and disparities that marked the turmoil in the life of many in Calcutta.

Rabin is indeed a challenge that makes one think how can the art of an artist who is not market-savvy become accessible and visible to art viewers? The history of art is full of stories about how significant artists remained obscure or relatively unknown in their lifetime and gained recognition and respectability only posthumously.

To me, a book and film on Rabin along with his retrospective exhibition seemed the best way to present his art to the art community, who would learn about his life and the context through which these works emerged.

This documentation would communicate the artist's sensibility and his contribution to the modernist assertion in India.

"" Ashish Anand Ashish Anand is director, Delhi Art Gallery

From the journals of Rabin Mondal

20.06.99 For the past few days, much time has been wasted to meet social obligations. In the art world of today, the rising frequency of art camps, conferences and meetings has taken a toll of working time. All these may commercially help the artist community, but don't they indirectly harm the artists' work?

28.06.99 We are going through a strange time. Military engagement with Pakistan is going on in Kargil...and at the same time we witness emotional effervescence over the World Cup cricket..The present state of politics in India has adversely affected the people of all classes...Political assassinations have now become day-to-day happenings...Our thinking has become shallow. The consequent stagnation in art and literature is now nurturing obsession with one's own self. A procession of crafty and fraudulent men around us.

17.07.99 Yesterday I worked on some small-size paintings in acrylic. I find it painful to sit around without doing any work...Even pottering about with painting materials causes some kind of elation. It does not matter whether I end up with a 'picture' or not.

I have always been attracted by the colour's pigments...Correct handling of pigments creates a kind of texture that helps my thinking merge with my actual practice of painting a picture.