There was already a residual necessity lingering to paint a face in the manner of Lucien Freud long after work began on a work that Paula came to call Sidney after it was finished. She decided with her Son that it was Sidney on a red background. But that decision, which seemed a determined one at the time, changed by the weekend to Sidney with blue spots. Spots? Thus it went on varying the various accompaniments of Sidney, but 'Sidney' remained, staring, with his bored look, doing nothing.

By then the much hullabaloo-ed hotel in Bangalore turned out to be a downer.  Much to my annoyance the receptionist seemed to make perfect conversation in English with my English speaking wife but miraculously forgot vital phrases and verbs while talking to me. Well, I thought to my self, suffer if you must, I shall make you my subject and immortalize you in my little diary. He was the cock type, coulourful and domineering with his hens. Keys seemed very important tool in his hands; they completed his personality.

Speaking of cock-men, I recently found out  that Lenin was quite a cock-man. I saw him propagating his doctrine, -his version of Marx's theory and his meticulous application of it to Russia - amidst hens of his kind, the Russian women I mean, although his obsession was with one not altogether Russian but French, Inessa Armand. They were all there, enraptured by the bald cock, oblivious of the cold Russian winter, warmed up by the fervor of the revolution.

A balding head resembles an egg, and head conjures up associations  of  wisdom, knowledge, intellect and mind. And egg-born baby is wiser than his parent. He should at least LOOK wiser than his mother. This mother must look a bit trendy and sophisticated, interested both in societal ties and bonding with her babe. And so a bit of colour was obligatory. The thrust of the body tearing at the pull of her gazing head, in consternation and confusion. What to do? Pills and tranquilizers.
 







But not all resort to numbing of their prickly conscience; they grow big mustaches and practice intimidating looks, looking ridiculous in the bargain. For little do they realise how shacked they are to their puffing and their enlarged self esteem. Some years back an  art collector had said in connection with an artist friend, who had really made me proud, and my other artist friends - braggarts all -  harping on the correctness of their world view.  "..difference between man and boys!" That's what he had said. It will echo in my mind for many more years.

 ...And in the midst of all these metaphors and symbolology one  fact stands proud and daring like a silverback. The fact is that a handshake is much more reassuring if it be candid and open rather than enveloped in some ulterior motive. The more menacing looking it is, the milder, just like a gorilla! I identify with the big ape. Had my morality been of a eighteenth century gentleman, I might well have been a staunch worshiper of Rama, the avatar. Alas! I have tasted much more than the fruit of Eden, I must survive my downfall to stand up as man!

Hundatwasser is not so celebrated, but he was an interesting designer. An artist and activist, architect and a iconoclast to his marrow, he built his work with  patterns of narrow and broad colour strips. He did not flinch at the bold use of primary, blunt colours and he was never happy with his name, Hundredwater, which he changed hundred times. A girl, given to much coquettishness, when asked to name the word that means rotating around oneself  while dancing said "pirutti". Since that moment she was nicknamed Pirutti by her friends. Sometimes in idle moments many many such incidents pirouette in my mind.

One such incident which recently popped-up was my friend Jesus and his dog Leader. Now leader was actually the mother of Tarzan, who was fathered by a huge Great Dane with a puny name, fifi. Leader littered a few times before she died, but many of her pups were tiger striped Ochre coats. And Jesus's dad, when he used to be at home dressed in striped pyjamas. They were green or blue ( I forget) but the pattern was congruent with his dogs! I made that drawing down there, remembering leader, a benign dog.

Was it Paul Klee who said that drawing was to take a point for a walk? I am willing to take it from the late Herr Klee, but not from an opportunist like Chaudhary? Just to show how easy it is to take a point for a walk I made a drawing with a sitting creature with proboscis, asking a confused parrot to read his future from his multi-palmed arms! The parrot said, "A PODDOSHREE (Padmashree) is certain!"
One thing leads to another. Reading palm and papers is a common activity of a south Indian brahmin. They all sit in the same manner, the thin ones resemble each other  just as the thick ones resemble other thick ones. If you do not buy into their offer of a discounted 'abhishekam' (at Chidambaram and Madurai at least) they curse you in Sanskrit, or what sounds like the language of Gods. Well, I curse in the language of the queen mostly, and when I do not get results I get a certain satisfaction that Sanskritesque swearing will certainly not give me.