At the age of 14, I got the opportunity to meet this great old man. Someone who i'd just read of in the papers and seen on the news. Someone who i knew was the most famous painter and liked to paint women from the movies.
I saw him walk barefoot on the grass of the little hillock at Surajkund. Apparently, I heard - he was always barefoot. He was to paint on a wall. A small crowd had gathered to watch him at work. What I saw was a bony old man with a white beard, white hair and a beret covering it walking slowly with a smile on his face. As if he was about to play a prank on his unsuspecting audience.
With one look at the wall, he picked up a huge brush which was kept near the bottles of paint neatly arranged on a table, ready for him to use. With one stroke he drew a semi circle on the wall and a stick figure within it which resembled a veiled woman. Or so I thought.
The man with him enthusiastically started clapping signifying the end of the process of painting that wall. He egged us on to applaud for him and we happily obliged.
Another youngish man came forward to clean the paint off the old man's trousers who then sat with a few other important looking people sipping tea.
He seemed unfazed by them and was quite happy to oblige the crowd with autographs and handshakes. I still have his autograph. And somewhere stashed away, a photograph with him. His smile never lessened. He didn't talk much, but was happy to be there, I think.
He had played his prank.
One of the most visionary artists from our land, whose work needs no introduction, played the prank that his genius mind conjured up. We might take years to understand and decipher his complex thoughts and visuals.
But that fine February day MF Hussain influence me to try to understand visual arts. I am just one amongst many whose lives he touched. So how will he ever die?
