Raza@100: The boy from Mandla in MP and the man in his studio in Paris

(Editor’s note: Abir Pothi is excited to bring you book excerpts from Raza: Jaisa Maine Dekha by noted artist Akhilesh published by Rajkamal Prakashan, where he has sketched through words about his long association with Syed Haidar Raza from the author’s early days to Raza’s last. We thank Akhilesh for allowing the translation and using excerpts for Abir readers. This is special because Raza would have entered his 100th year today. It is a very useful book for art lovers and especially young artists to look at journeys of two artists crossing, connecting and sometimes entwining their paths and destinations. We are bringing it to you in five parts. You can read the first , the second and the third parts here. This is the fourth of a five-part series.)

I went to France for the first time in 1997. Raza had invited me, rather his wife Janine had. I was returning from America. I was invited by the Tawson University in Maryland for three months. I was to speak about contemporary Indian art and to curate an exhibition of Indian artists for them. Frankly, I was not very excited about this France visit after being disenchanted by the tiresome false shine of America. I wanted to reach home at the earliest. That I would get a window to spend 10 days with Raza sahab was the only attraction I had, which was taking me in a cab after landing at the Paris airport to his home. After getting down at Rue de Charonne, I looked at that old building. I could see him smiling and waving a hand from the window. I was surprised that he was up and ready so early in the morning and was waiting for me. The building he lived in was used as a stopover lodge for the Christian nuns in the 16th century.

It used to have separate rooms for residents, where nuns used to stay. Raza sahab used to live on first floor. It had seen repairs many times, without much altering of the original shape and form. The vintage feel was spread all over the stairs and walls and windows. The wooden stairs used to creak while stepping on them.

Just after opening the doors, he hugged me. I wished him and we entered the house. Janine was inside. My happiness knew no bounds when I saw my painting hanging on the opposite wall. I remember Raza sahab bought this painting from a Delhi exhibition. He also bought two more works which were on paper. The air of formality had suddenly disappeared. The heaviness I was carrying from America had gone. Janine made some coffee for us and called us in. We sat across the table by the window in their bedroom, which was attached to kitchen. Janine brought the coffee on table. She sat on the bed resting on pillows. We began having coffee, while Raza was briefly inquiring about my America trip. Then he took me to a nearby house, where my stay was arranged. Raza told me that he brought one room first, then the second, then the third, and turned it into home. It has a bedroom and kitchen. Then there is a middle room, where the dining table is placed. The third is a guest room, which is also Raza’s studio. In between, there is a house of two rooms, which was for Janine’s parents. After they died, Janine uses it as her studio. Her etching machine was kept there. On one wall, there were many paintings resting. Most of them were bought by Raza, mostly of Indian artists. Some were his own works and Janine’s, too. Raza was excited to show me those works. In that lot, there were works of Rajendra Dhawan, Prabhakar Kolte, Satish Panchal, Yogendra Tripathi, two of mine, Seema Guraiya, Jogen Choudhury, Taiyab Mehta, Zarina Hashmi, Krishna Reddy and some unknown ones. Raza had also forgotten their names.

When I reached back, Raza was working in his studio and Janine was in kitchen. I sat down and kept watching him work. I kept inspecting the studio. There were two big racks full of books. Underneath there was an open space with many prints kept there. Opposite that there was an almirah, without covers. There were many small and tiny statuettes kept there. Ganesha, Bal-Gopal, Krishna, Shiv ling, Jesus Christ on the cross, a kalash, a picture of his guru Mohan Kulkarni, a picture of Jesus, fresh flowers, two coconuts, different types of partially burnt candles, a small carved wood structure of Mary and child Jesus, books of Hinduism, Christianity, Islam, Geeta Pravachan, Bible, Quran, Ram Charit Manas, an anthology of Tulsidas’s dohas (couplets), some pens, some more books, some old papers, an old picture in a small frame, and some catalogues were all placed there. There were small bottles which had earth (Mitti) from different places (Mandla, Wardha, Damoh, Shanti Niketan), a picture of his mother, another of his teacher, one big conch shell, a statuette of Hanuman, some very small statuettes, many rosaries hanging from the shelf.

Raza in his studioThis almirah was full of memorabilia, from the time and places he lived, and he had very delicately collected and kept them there. The wall next to this shelf had a wooden statue hanging on it. One the left hand side door, there was this picture of Amrita Sher-Gil in a poster of Indian exhibition in Paris. Next to that was a beautifully framed page of miniature work. Below that was a collage of Janine. And a small painting of Raza. The studio was full of pictorial delights and tastefully arranged. Resting on the wall was a freshly made big painting by Raza. Raza was absorbed in his work. I was looking at the pictures in the studio. One rack on the side was full of papers, files, fax machine, film cassettes, film rolls, camera, tripod, lamps and loads of other stuff, which couldn’t clearly be identified. Just then Janine came and whispered something to Raza. He washed the brush he was holding in the utensil and got up from his easel. Then he said, let us go, the driver is here.

Both of us came down. The car was parked there. Raza nodded to get inside. Raza said something to the driver and it started moving. Raza told me, ‘Since you have come here for the first time, let me show you some bits of the city. Let us see some parts. Then you will get to know.’ That day first we drove to École des Beaux-Arts (National School of Arts), where he was a student. Then we went to museums of Louvre and Musée d’Orsay, then to street of  Champs-Élysées and then to hill and art district of Montmartre. I was watching the city as the car kept moving. Raza Sahab kept telling me about each place. You must come here, we will come here tomorrow, look at that sculpture of Rodin. We remained in the moving car. We didn’t stop anywhere, or got down to see anything and Raza kept talking about coming tomorrow or later. He wanted me to get a sense and feel of the city so that I do not have to feel like an outsider here. Finally, at a restaurant in Montmartre we got down, when he said let us eat something here. ‘I used to live here earlier,’ he said. This is where Picasso, Chagall and many other great painters had their studios. We sat down around a table outside restaurant. I found it strange in Paris that everyone sitting outside the restaurants was facing the street. Raza sahab asked me, ‘Would you like to sit outside or inside?’ I was liking the air outside, so we kept sitting there. In a while, a waiter came and placed two beers before us. He was very busy and had no time to listen to us. He came to take the order much later. Raza sahab offered me a cigarette and lit one for himself. Raza sahab kept talking. He kept telling me about things and I kept asking while listening to him. We were at ease and there was no hurry to finish eating food and then rushing to see more things. We kept smoking our cigarettes and sipping our beer. Then the food was served. We had food and then slightly high, sat in the car. Raza said something to the driver and the car started moving. Through the day we saw all the important places in Paris, that included the Notre Dame, the Pompidou Centre, the Palace of Versailles, Picasso Museum, Dali Museum, Paris Museum of Modern Art, Palais de Tokyo, Grand Palace, the Moulin Rouge, Rue de Rivoli and the Opéra Bastille. We returned home in the evening around 7 pm.

I went to my room. Raza sahab had asked me to come at 9 pm. I kept turning the pages of the books lying there. Most of them were in French. Some books were of literature, some architecture, some fine arts, history, about various countries along with some catalogues were there. I lost sense of time and then suddenly I heard someone knocking at the door. I heard Raza Sahab calling my name and the doorbell rang. I opened the door. He looked worried and asked with concern, “Did you go to sleep? It is almost 10 pm, I got worried since you didn’t come.’

I was confused. I couldn’t make out how it had gotten this late. Outside it was still not dark — in fact it was like evening. We went to his house. Janine welcomed me of the dining table. Raza sahab took out a new bottle of wine and filled three glasses. There was a new table cloth spread over it. The cutlery and fork and knives were all laid. Raza sahab said Janine has made special dishes for me. French dinner is famous for its fairly prolonged sequence. I was to experience that on that evening. Janine kept bringing one dish after another. Raza sahab and I kept talking. Janine used to join us in between and we kept sipping wine, talking and eating food. Then suddenly, Raza said he wants to read a poem and then he recited this poem of Hindi poet Agyey, which he knew by heart. In between, he went to studio and brought his diary “Dhai Akhar” (two-and-a-half letters), where he had noted this poem, but didn’t need to open it. When he was reading it, his eyes were playful and intense. He then translated the poem to Janine, and since he had done it many a times before, Janine kept correcting his rendition at several places. This is how the poem in English sounds like:

जब आवे दिन

तब देह बुझे या टूटे, इन

आँखों को

हँसती रहने देना।

हाथों ने बहुत अनर्थ किये

पग ठौर – कुठौर चले,

मन के

आगे भी खोटे लक्ष्य रहे

वाणी ने (जाने – अनजाने) सौ झूठ कहे पर आँखों ने

हार

दुःख

अवसान

मृत्यु का

अन्धकार भी देखा तो

सच – सच देखा

The evening was getting beautiful and interesting gradually. Raza told me that the next dish we were going to be served, is accompanied by white wine only, so finish this glass. Then he took the glass inside and kept it there. Now, white wine was poured into other glasses. Outside the window, it was still daylight, but the hour was turning to 11 pm. I was unable to realise that it is so late now. After the delicious food, Janine brought cheese on a wooden board. There were many types of cheese arranged on the board and an old knife to cut them, which I assumed must be her parents’. It had an ivory handle and was delicately carved. Janine said this was the most important part of French food and then she gave me a quick primer on various types, ‘This cheese is from Normandy, made from the milk of cows that graze on the hills, 1,200 feet above sea level and not in the plains, and therefore it tastes so delicious.\’ Comté is sourced only from East of France. Different parts of France were known for different kinds of cheese. She served us Camembert, Roquefort, Brie and then it ended with Blue cheese, which is made on the borders of France and Switzerland. Not liked by many outsiders, it is more of a living organism because it has bacteria in it. I loved this variety and that made Janine happy. She gave me a second round of helping ending with Blue cheese. This was new for me. I had never ever eaten cheese before. The paneer we get in our country is very different from this as fresh cheese, but that was not prevalent there. Blue cheese is such a delicacy, I found out that evening.

Raza and Janine were together for 43 years

Raza concluded the evening with Cognac and he brought small glasses for that. It was to be had in one go like a shot. This also I did for the first time. And did that twice. Cognac is what we know as ‘one for the road.’ I used to read about Cognac in Nirmal (Verma) ji’s stories. Before that I mispronounced it as Kognak when I read Van Gogh’s book Lust for Life, because of its spelling.

I immediately called him and talked to him. I could hear the pain and loneliness in his voice. He had started crying while talking to me… and then he kept mumbling something in French, something in English and some in Hindi…And after a while he restrained and excused himself, saying the weather in Paris is changing, his throat is not good, and he is not feeling well. ‘I need to take Janine to Gorbio (her family place in France) and prepare for that.’ I had no words to condole him. My mind had just stopped working. I hadn’t seen or imagined Raza in this state and I said whatever I could come up with. Raza was the one who kept talking. It was a 43-year-long relationship that had just ended. Not just a relationship, but also the backbone of a relationship that freed Raza from many worries, because of her, the strange world of Paris had become his own.

A few months after this development, Raza called me again and said in a very broken voice, “I am feeling very lonely. Ramkumar (the painter) had come for four days and we were together but he had to go yesterday. Would it be possible for you to come to Paris to live with me?\”

After this every year till 2010, I kept visiting Raza sahab in France for some months in summers.

After Janine’s death, Raza was lost in Paris. He was like a child who was not able to relate with the surrounding world. Raza used to feel lonely in Paris. He was trying to forget himself by focusing on his art and also getting distracted as well. There was this Polish woman coming thrice a week to clean the house and cook food. She would take care of all the house work. This was the time when Raza’s attention got centred around the Bindu (dot). He made many paintings with the Bindu. He was focussed on the Bindu now and he made his most talked about works in this phase — ‘Bindu’, ‘Jal-Bindu’, ‘Avartan’ (the rotation), ‘Tiryak’ (slanted line), Satyamev Jayate (truth always wins), ‘Naad Bindu’, ‘Neel-Shyam’, ‘Bindu-Panchtatv’, etc. And he kept making some of them again and again. He kept saying Bindu was the shunya (zero), then it became the sun, then colours were seen in light and this led to beginnings of new life. For Raza, the Bindu had become Prana Bindu (the central dot of life).