The post was supposed to be called the Art Critic of India but then the Delhites objected saying we’re ‘dyfferent’.
The other day I happened to visit India habitat centre with my friend to hang out. There was this exhibition of paintings in one of its halls and I decided to go have a look at them. And there they were vivid impressions of the daily routine of a woman in india in oil and canvas. I was quite impressed. Paintings by Rojot Banerjee!
Then a dirty looking man, around 60 years old, exclaimed, “ Amazing. Really wonderful. Rojotda, I must say you’ve really put your soul across. What exuberance, and glibness.”
I was quick to notice that the old man had a bag on which he had dirtily painted some birds or maybe his grandkids must have painted it, or maybe not; he must have tried to emulate them or got somebody to do it. Whatever. Suddenly an old woman joined him in Rojotda’s praise.
She exclaimed, “Oooh! They’re from some dream. How could you put them on canvas Rojot?" By now I had come to know that they were big ‘ART PEOPLE’.
The lady complimented the old man on his attire, “Wow! You look so classy Raisinghji and what a wonderful hat, so classy.”
And I thought he was dirtily dressed and his hat was tattered. I thought I had symptoms of the ‘unartisticaria’ then. Raisinghji approved the compliments and gave back some of his own, "Veena! Pretty woman! How kind of you. You look gorgeous just like these paintings or rather the other way around."
Veena thanked him and commented on the paintings again adjusting her monocle, “ Rojot, what detail! Either my lens is dusty or you’ve actually created a masterpiece. You’ve actually painted freckles on it??” To that my friend quickly replied, “Ma’am it’s the lighting. It’s not clean.”
She gave such a look, I wouldn’t stare at a street rat like. Now my 'unartisticaria' fever was making me feel like sewage.
And I thought he was dirtily dressed and his hat was tattered. I thought I had symptoms of the ‘unartisticaria’ then. Raisinghji approved the compliments and gave back some of his own, "Veena! Pretty woman! How kind of you. You look gorgeous just like these paintings or rather the other way around."
Veena thanked him and commented on the paintings again adjusting her monocle, “ Rojot, what detail! Either my lens is dusty or you’ve actually created a masterpiece. You’ve actually painted freckles on it??” To that my friend quickly replied, “Ma’am it’s the lighting. It’s not clean.”
She gave such a look, I wouldn’t stare at a street rat like. Now my 'unartisticaria' fever was making me feel like sewage.
We carried on and so did they. Later, we found them again near the drop off where they were lecturing a repairman with a lot of heavy mannerisms on his ignorance in being unable to see the beauty in the broken sandstone tile on the entry flight of steps. I was reminded of Max Minghella’s expressions in the movie Art School Confidential. “Are you kidding me??”, these were the lines. Then came two huge cars, so long I had to stretch my eyeballs either way to look at it. And both of the parted ways. Is this how they earn money? I asked. 'I've no clue.' replied my friend.
