Yet Another August 15

When people say India got freedom in 1947 , I can only wonder if anyone really know what that means ..! Or rather what exactly it 'should ' mean.. People just confuses transferring of power from one authority to another is same as freedom ..... The concept of freedom is a much deeper one and it directly manifests as the freedom of an individual and intrinsically connects to his right for space around him and the unchallenged acceptance of his self respect by the society. The concept of freedom is innate trait of a human being, which he will defend at any cost as long as he remain a self respectful human being.Any aspects of the social ecosystem he lives in , prevents him from experiencing his self respect , he will feel lack of freedom and suffocation of his very existence.

 

 

"ആണ്ടോടോരിക്കല്‍ ഒരാഗസ്തു പതിനഞ്ചിന -
അരുമയായ്  വിരിയുന്ന മധുരമോ  ഭാരതം ..?

അച്ഛന്‍ പഠിപ്പിച്ച വാചാ പ്രസംഗത്തില്‍
ഉച്ചതിലോതുന്ന  വാക്കിലോ ഭാരതം..?

ഇവിടെ എവിടെയാണ് നിന്‍ സോദരന്‍ ..?

വിയര്‍പ്പിന്റെ കവിതയാല്‍ നിന്നെ നിറച്ചൂട്ടുന്നവന്‍  "

മധുസൂദനന്‍ നായര്‍ ചോദിക്കുന്നു ...വീണ്ടും വീണ്ടും ..
മറുപടികള്‍ ഇല്ല എന്നറിഞ്ഞിട്ടും .....

ആരും മറുപടി പറയില്ല എന്നറിഞ്ഞിട്ടും....

The strange case of the nomadic artist..!

It was a typical tropical summer day in Perinjanam, the nondescript yet 'Gulf impacted' Village off the western  coast of Trichur. It was early nineties and the morning Sunshine of February was little less warm than usual.

A few weeks more was to go before the SSLC exams starts, and I had just came out of my tuition class." Oxford college" was run on the first floor of an old cottage , the wooden floors often cracking under the feet as you walked on it. (Cant forget the beloved and most respected Vasudevan Master in his spotless white Khadi shirt and Mundu as spotless as his English Grammar, walking in with a military discipline and a determination that completely defeated his age. .)

By the side of the cottage we had our bicycle parking area ; A private property routinely encroached by us as we didn't have any other place to keep our 'invaluable' bicycles.

I had to rush, as I had only 45 minutes to reach my school on the sea cost, one Km away. I  hurriedly climbed on to my 'BSA SLR' bicycle, which was my priced companion for the so many  months after Mom bought it for me after making repeated demands and strikes.

Hardly I moved on pedaling, and I couldn't help noticing a small crowd near an old building by the road side. Curious, I got down from the bike and peeped in..

Here was this man, a thin frame in the familiar khadi kurta and and with long hair, the center of attention of those few onlookers. He had typical look of a Bujji ( a self styled intellectual) and could easily fit into the images of an emerging artist or a Shatrya Sahiytya Parishad member or even a lost soul from communist thinking class. As I moved in closer to get a closer view  I could hear him talking about the color dyes that can be extracted from nature itself..Initially I took him for a street side vendor of dyes typically starting his day with routine tricks; But there was this air of him that made him different, and soon I realized he was trying to put across a message about using things from nature and to reject anything artificial . He tried to convey it through the use of natural extracts as dyes.


As the crowd tried to figure out what he was up to, he took out a brush and some leaves from his bags, made the leaves into pulps and also used some plant roots , and he made 3-4 colors from that..

Some in the crowd started moving away as they didn't find any exciting magic happening as they had expected from a stranger of his appearance , a few who could follow his message kept their eyes glued on to his actions.

I was interested,and decided to wait till he completes his work of art. In no time he cleaned a small part of the white wall of that old building, He started drawing a circle ( a perfect one with fingers  told me immediately that he is an expert in whatever he was about to do) and then in no time there was a small piece of a natural landscape built into it.

It was a good picture considering the very little amount of time he took to complete it , and that he used fingers as his brush for most part of the painting.. And in the next minute he said thanks to every one ,packed his bags and started walking...The  crowd disappeared wondering about the man and his whereabouts,not very sure of his intentions and definitely not sure of why he did it and how he benefited.

In all probability I felt, he was someone who had a mission of his own, One of those many a wandering souls whose desire for intelligent living and penchant for interactive relationship vis a vis with the world . Some one who possed not just a intrinsic thought process but who is also  passionate about giving it out and to connect with outside world..

I had to hurry to the school as I was school leader and had to be present for the school assembly in time. With my dependable BSA SLR with me  I could beat the buses and still could reach in time.

A few months passed and I had almost forgotten about this man and his work of art. It was one of those weekends again and I was on my routine trip to the film theater, ten km away. Sitting in the bus and carelessly glancing at the passers by on the side walks suddenly some thing struck my eyes. I knew it was so familiar, but I did not have a second chance to look at it as the bus was speeding along. But I had a feeling that whatever I saw, I had seen before...I kept looking outside in hope that I would see that again...

And as the bus stopped at the next stop, I could see it, It was the same circle and same colors, the picture was different though, the mysterious stranger had made his presence here as well.As the bus traveled all the way to my destination I could see many instances of his works all along..All left on old buildings on a fading back ground. However one couldn't miss it as it got repeated again and again..



I was more curious and in my later travels to different parts along a 150 km stretch I had seen it repeated ..over and over.. The unidentified painter had left his finger prints everywhere, His paintings stood witness to it.

I am sure he name was not mentioned in any of local news papers. He was one of those many unique literally -off the track- sort of souls, who just happens to be here , yet missed by us. But his kind exist every where, in whichever corner of the world, we have them.. unnoticed and never observed, but they were always there..

One may wonder what motivates them to go with such a passion , which may not be rewarding monetarily, but instead exhaust one's energy and resources. But the desire to chart out a new course keeps them going out of the way.

After some 10 years I tried to check if the same paintings were re still there. But as expected the old buildings itself were no more to be found as the modernization was kicking in and, all have been replaced with modern buildings..Yet one or two still stood, still bearing his art work on it as a testimony to generic human desire , will ,sense of freedom , and intelligence .

History would never reckon him, neither folklore would have his story to tell, Yet the Nomadic wanderer who went on a mission on his own unaccompanied yet determined mesmerizes me even now, for I knew he existed, but will never know who he was.

His story , for me , was a proof of human desire to think, invent ,connect and  communicate his thoughts. A proof of intelligent life , a proof of the awareness of man about himself and nature that he belongs to (or rather that fills in him)  I believe that is something that probably  differentiate man from men..!