The Prithviraj versus Mohanlal Debate

When I first saw Prithviraj on the sets of Nandanam, I was completely bowled over by his personality- a combination of good looks and the individuality that radiated from his persona. It was something amiss in Malayalam cinema.

And then I heard all these squabbles over Prithviraj versus Mohan Lal. Mohan Lal has a very strong place in my heart, on account of the calibre of characters that he has delivered over a span of several years. I do think it is baseless to ‘compare’ these 2 personalities. It would be more mature on our part to give Prithvi his due merit and give him constructive criticism on his performance.

However, such a squabble did set me thinking on these 2 personalities and the differences in them. I watched Prithvi’s interview shortly after his marriage and was impressed by the clarity of his thoughts and the ease/courage with which he put across his thoughts. The conservative malayalee will brand his individuality as ‘attitude’ or ‘arrogance’.

But then I ask myself- I love him as an individual…do I love him as an actor?

Nandanam was a masterpiece by Ranjith. And the truth is that I was too much in love with the movie to contemplate on Prithvi’s proficiency as an actor. As subsequent movies unfolded, I found his acting skills very average. In fact, there are a good many young actors in some Malayalam serials who outdo his performance any day- I always wonder why they don’t make it to movies. Prithvi is good at roles that match his personality. But that is not what defines an actor. An actor is one who can effortlessly shed his own personality and get into the soul and spirit of the character in the movie…who can become one with the character. It is in this regard that Mohan Lal and Prithvi differ. Lal is the product of a different era- he is the sum total of years of grooming and moulding by harsher circumstances, greater struggle and ingenious mentors. Also, Lal’s personality differs- he doesn’t lash out like Prithvi does. He ‘contains’ his emotions. It is these contained emotions which define an artist for they remain a part of his subconscious and are liberated in the artist’s art. Prithvi dissipates all this emotions by reacting aggressively to every situation. To be a fine actor, one must have allowed oneself to experience the range and depth of emotions that one wants to portray on screen. One must have in one’s mind the silence and solitude to allow these emotions to attain depth…to allow them to mature. Prithvi lacks this silence and solitude of mind that is vital in shaping an actor. I think he would make a brilliant journalist.

When we think of Lal, all his characters come to our minds. There is very little we know about the individual- Mohan Lal. We know him and remember him as the sum total of all the characters he has brilliantly enacted; Lal is that raw. On the other hand, when we think of Prithvi, it is his own personality that comes to our minds- the individual ‘Prithviraj’, whose personality has spilled into all his characters. This is the primary difference between these two personalities that I love in entirely different ways.

It is true that Lal and Mammootty bring down their image when they play characters much younger, but as Lal himself has put it-‘I am what the film makers make of me. Lal is not one person…he is the work output of numerous people who have stood backstage and gone into his making.’ I think the entire film industry needs a serious revision and redefining of standards. I can only wish that someone would somehow turn the key and we could go back to the golden era of the 90s when movies set our standards for life.

Padmarajan: Malayalam cinema's eternal loss

For me, it has been a week of Padmarajan movies. I have pushed aside all my preoccupations to escape into the magical sensory experience of his movies- Thoovanathumbikal (butterflies of the rain), Deshadanakkili karayarilla (the migratory bird does not cry), Moonam pakkam (the third day), Innale (Yesterday) and Njan gandharvan (Me- the celestial lover).

Padmarajan, to me, is the mentor I have never met. My mentor with respect to life as well as art. My dedication to him is an obsession.

To watch his movies is to truly liberate oneself from all entrapments in the real world. It is a trance- you unknowingly bare yourself of the burden of the conscious, entering effortlessly into the domain of the subconscious. And then you feel within you a cascade of emotions in their purest form- devoid of the corruption by the conscious…devoid of the burden of the conscious. Love, desire, affection, bonding, passion, angst- they all come alive within you in their most vivid forms. ‘You’ have ceased to exist- ‘you’ are now the character unfolding in the movie. When the movie ends, it is a spell that breaks. Your mind still holds on to it…it longs to linger to ask questions and to seek answers…it refuses to come back to ‘you’. You come out richer for the journey of the character in the movie has become a part of your own journey of life. That was the power of his movies.

His movies provided me with the courage I needed in order to liberate my sensitive self from the emotional entrapments of the real world and create a world of my own in the domains of my mind- a world that was free of barriers and convention. A world that is entirely the property of the subconscious…a world erected on emotions and instincts…a world ungoverned by social norms and stereotyped systems…a world with tremendous potential for beauty. It was the journey from vulnerability to strength…from the dependence I most dreaded in me to the fierce independence I see in me today. The existence of this world in my mind nullifies my dependency on people. Much as I continue to love people and bond with them, it is possible for me to detach at any point in the relationship…for there is a world that waits for me…a world to come back home to. And thus, I became incapable of being hurt in the real world. It is this freedom I cherish the most- the freedom within my mind and the freedom of being inaccessible to hurt. Sorrow can no longer generate hurt in me; it can only contribute to the beauty of the world within my mind.

To watch his movies was to see my own emotions coming alive in visible form. He defined for me themes such as love, family, relationships, woman, beauty and so on. My commitment is to my emotions- it is far more important for me to be able to experience my emotions in totality than to commit to real world relationships that corrupt the sanctity of these emotions. In that sense, these themes are more alive in my mind than in the world around me. In the real world, I experience bits and pieces of these emotions from different quarters- but it is in my mind that I put them together to reconstitute the whole emotion.

His movies taught me the art of inconspicuously entering the delicate and fragile minds of sensitive and ordinary people and gently making them aware of the beauty of their own minds. His movies taught me to fall in love with the ‘peripheral elements’ of society- the ones who are born from the negativity of their circumstances...the ones who have truly experienced the currents of life. His movies provided me with a deep understanding of the inner flights of the mind, often unknown to our conscious. His character sketches provided me with the range and depth I needed in order to understand human behaviour and its inner drives. His movies increased my understanding of the internal journey of my own mind and paved the way for my future. I have my career interests in psychology and I would say that his movies form the bible of my understanding of psychology- much more than all the texts I have read. To watch his movies was to watch life.

I am indebted to Padmarajan in more than one ways for having shaped the journey of my life…for having transformed it into a persistent and beautiful sensory experience...for having multiplied the passion for life. Padmarajan’s death is a personal loss that I mourn. Ironically, even his death seemed to carry the aura of his movies. His movies leave me overwhelmed- overwhelmed at the power of his creation…and then I burst into tears. My obsession to Padmarajan and his movies is a madness I cherish. Oh, the power of creation!

Deshadanakkilli karayarilla

Over the years, I have developed an extreme fascination towards psychology- towards getting into the minds of people…towards analyzing their behaviour….towards analyzing the peculiarities of my own behaviour and tracing it to a particular attribute of my past. This interest in the human mind has been chiefly sparked by two things- life and malayalam movies.

I sometimes wonder if any regional movies have provided us with the range and depth of characters as have malayalam movies. The proficiency with which each character is sketched in these movies is such a brilliant work of art that the line between movie and life disappears. This movie is a classical example of such a character sketch.

Sally and Nimmi- the 2 central characters of this movie have been deeply etched into my mind. Parental love and the security and protection that comes from it is vital to normal mental development of a child. Sally and Nimmi are two adolescent girls studying in a boarding school. Despite their strikingly different personalities, what binds them together into a deep-rooted relationship, is the background they come from. They are both offsprings from a loveless union. While the parents have moved on with their lives, the children have grown up in an unprotected environment where all they see around them is unhappiness, frustration, loneliness, hopelessness and hostility. Apart from the things money can buy, there is nothing positive in their environment. This commonality of their individual backgrounds forms the foundation for their inseparable relationship- a relationship where they understand each other perfectly through a language of unspoken words.

Quite naturally, both Sally and Nimmi have no expectations from society. Thus, they live regardless of society- of their peers and teachers, of the rules and regulations of their Catholic institution. They find pleasure in pranks and mischief. Consequently, they are the despair of their teachers.

Sally is extremely tomboyish in her ways and her mindset. The absence of a father-figure in her life might account for this almost gender-denial behaviour . She is fiercely independent and displays a degree of strength that is commendable. Her only weakness is the soft and vulnerable Nimmi, towards whom she is highly protective. Nimmi is more feminine in her ways and tastes. She is raised by her father and a step-mother. Emotional dependancy lies at the heart of Nimmi’s personality- there is a palpably infinite need for love and affection in her- a need that desires satiation. She looks up to Sally for everything. In fact, their relationship carries subtle tones of homosexuality, which could very well have such a psychological basis (I am not sure if Padmarajan intended this, but this is how I perceived it).

Padmarajan portrays these characters with so much sensitivity and understanding that we begin to love these social outcastes…we begin to feel deeply for them….quite contrary to the sentiments of their teachers in the movie.

Urvashi plays the ‘villain’. She is their class-teacher. She comes from a struggling background- her upbringing has taught her to understand the value of money and struggle, but her vision fails to see the emptiness in the lives of these two ‘rebels’. Consequently, her approach to their behaviour is criticism and punishment. She expresses hostility towards them because she fails to see beneath their external personalities, the trauma, scars and deprivations of their inner minds.

And thus, the antagonism between them eventually culminates in Sally and Nimmi absconding from school, in the setting of a picnic. Sally plans out their stay and finances and finds a temporary job for the two. Meanwhile, Urvashi is suspended and the girls rejoice at this news.

The story takes a turn with the entry of a new character enacted by Mohan Lal. In him, Nimmi finds emotional fulfilment. His personality seems to satiate the unfulfilled emotional need she has lived with all along. His presence makes her feel loved, protected and secure- a feeling she has craved for, all along. Unknowingly, she becomes emotionally dependent on him. He does not take her obsession towards him very seriously. He probably takes it as mere infatuation, which he believes would disappear in due course of time.

I shall not touch upon the individual sequence of events thereafter. But what is crucial is the haunting climax- a hallmark of Padmarajan’s movies. Just as the effect of Mohan Lal’s presence gives Nimmi the courage to set right her  life, he announces his plans of marrying Urvashi. From the close awareness of the comfort of the shore, Nimmi’s mind moves back to the turbulent waves of the sea…and this time, into deep sea. She fails to contain the emotional havoc in her already shattered mind.

Sally and Nimmi are migratory birds. They do not have their own niche in society. So when circumstances become more hostile, they fly to newer places, in an eternal search for the ‘one safe place’. They fly on, but they never cry.

And on that night, the two finally find their ‘safe place’.

The climax brings out Sally’s extreme commitment to Nimmi.

From the ashes

As a child, I loved epics. Now, as my mother narrates to me tales from memory and hearsay, of an era that I had not witnessed, it is with the same passion that I listen. Someday, I shall compile all those narrations into a book.

As years add to my life, the urge to know where I come from….the urge to dig deeper into my own roots, dominates my inquisitiveness. I urge my mother to narrate to me episodes from her childhood, which give me glimpses of life then, and of people who were my own blood, but people who faded away into deep recesses of time as yet another generation unfolded.

I never cared much for my lineage or my roots when I was young. It was only as my mind grew with the experiences that life treated me to, that I paused to marvel at and treasure the emotions I felt and the thoughts that crossed my mind, most of which seemed to operate at a purely subconscious level. I never knew where they came from, and I seemed to have no control over them, but to flow with their natural flow, was to experience paradise. They took me across untrodden paths, undiscovered lands and uncharted seas….they took me to my first feel of infinity.

It was for the first time that I regarded my mind as if it were something distinct from what I knew to be ‘me’, and I realized that my mind was a gift from my lineage- an immortal treasure that had been passed across generations, and perhaps the only immortal link between me and my ancestors. In science, they call it genetics. Suddenly, I felt very close to my ancestors. It was as if they stood by my side, watching me experience this moment of eerie elation.

I had always believed that I borrowed from my mother’s lineage, much more than from my father’s. And I felt this special reverence for those ancestors I didn’t even know.

My mother is my only link to my family clan. She tells me about the 300-400 years old ancestral house which was recently demolished. I always feel an ache deep within when I see its remnants, but then it was falling apart in any case. Now, only the foundation remains, and it is overgrown with grass and weeds. Where generations lived, the earth has now claimed back what belonged to it. The trees stand tall, some as old as the house, perhaps older, and I look up at them in silent reverence, for have they not witnessed my past? They have stood through time, witnessing all. My mother’s great-grandmother, who was a very religious and pious woman, and who mysteriously disappeared because of an apparently agonizing pain that brought into her life a lot of suffering. My great-grandmother, who would bustle about the house, seeing all, missing nothing, shouldering responsibilities with a composure that defied their magnitude. She was a beautiful woman, with profound emotional depth, and an intellect that surpassed her years. When she was eventually bed-ridden by a fracture than never healed, we cut her hair short, and she could have easily passed for a Caucasian. She was the picture of radiance….and of tranquility. Her absence remains a permanent void in my life and in my mother’s life. And then my grandmother, who I have no memories of, because she passed away from cancer, when I was barely an year old. Music was her domain, and all her children inherited that gift from her.

 

My mother tells me of a second cousin who was very philosophical from a very young age. He had no inclination towards materialistic aspects of life, and in his teens, he left home to lead the life of an ascetic. Even as a child, people found it hard to imbibe his philosophical and spiritual thoughts. I do not know why it left me with tears. Perhaps because I can on occasion feel what he felt. Those moments when a series of emotions and thoughts flow across the mind, dettaching one from all that is ‘real’, connecting one intimately to something that is more real- the inner self. For many people, this is madness. Simply because it is beyond their comprehension.

I have often wondered what madness or mania means. These days, as I learn to integrate what I have learnt from Medicine and from life, I often believe that mania is a state where the subconscious mind unleashes itself from the conscious. And the subconscious mind is very powerful- like the sun. If we were to be exposed to the sun directly, it would blind us to everything external. In mania, we drown in the radiance of our own subconscious mind. Even in the brief moments of subconscious writing that I experience, I find within me a powerful emotion that overpowers all else, that makes me slave to it, that shuts out everything else. Words escape my mind much before they have come to the notice of the conscious mind. The conscious lags, and eventually fails, to keep track of and keep a check on the subconscious. In the end, I am drained, for it has been such a powerful emotion that has just left me.

One portion of our grove houses the dead; their ashes and their bones lie deep within the earth here. I wonder where the dead go. Can they hear us? In the silence of the grove, I always feel the invisible presence of my ancestors- their faces a blur, save for the ones who have been a part of my life in the past. In the fading light of dusk, I experience them within myself. And I want to tell them that I am indebted to them for their immortal gift that I harbour within. They have heard me. A soft wind blows and leaves rustle, as if echoing the acknowledgement of a hundred ancestors. For I have finally learnt to take pride in my lineage and to value it.

I have watched death-rites being performed on the banks of the Bharathapuzha, which to me, is the soul of Kerala. The river fascinates me in a mysterious way. The culture that thrives along the regions that this river flows through, is what I relate to the most. Despite the fact that in reality, the river is alien to me. And yet, all the glimpses of life that are based on this culture, which I have experienced by way of books and movies and people, fail to surprise me. For that is the culture that thrives within my mind. Is this where I belong in truth? Is that why I experienced a supernatural connection with this river, even as a child, when we passed its banks on train journeys? It is my greatest desire to spend a day on the sandy banks of this river, for I know that I shall experience something profound. And it is also my greatest desire that in death, I would want my ashes to merge into this river. For this is where I have come from, and this is where I belong.

Now, I find myself standing at a juncture, where I spread my tentacles deep into my roots, integrating with a past that is spanned across time, and from this pedestal, I look at a future that emanates from me, and that will span across time. Past, present and future merge at ‘me’. Did I just spell out ‘immortal’?

 

Freedom

I was home and the whole day lay ahead of me. The very thought was delicious. It was one of those rare holidays when the day was all mine, with nothing that demanded my immediate attention. I cherish the state of mind such days bring with them- unhurried, with a slow tempo and the sort of silence and stillness where every sensory perception percolates deep within, generating an emotional flavor that floods the heart with unbound joy.

I felt like Tom Sawyer, delighted at my freedom. The author has so beautifully captured in that little story the worth of freedom. A child perhaps values freedom over and above everything else. When I think of my childhood, it reverberates with the perceptions of a mind with unrestricted freedom. An adult is perhaps ‘conditioned’ to prioritize a million things over and above his freedom. But given a choice, there is nothing that he would perhaps value more than his freedom. 

Today was one such day- a day that spoke of promises…of possibilities…of miracles. I watched the leaves fall from the trees- there was some grace in the way they fell. Clouds moved across the sky…so very slowly. The coconut palms swayed gently with the wind. The eagles flew high in the sky in slow circles. I drank my tea in slow sips, allowing the flavor to flood my senses. Today, I could feel the warmth of the sun rays. Today, I was all that surrounded me. I was the cloud in the sky, the bulbul chirping on the tree, the butterfly fluttering its wings, the sun shining in the sky. Today, there was no ‘me’….there was only the world around…and the beauty that it radiated. Today, I was at the heart of nature. Its slow tempo percolated effortlessly into the nothingness of my mind, healing and rejuvenating my mind. 

The ideal purpose of a holiday or a vacation in the course of our fast paced lives and our faster paced minds should be such a rejuvenation- a liberation from the millions of thoughts we feed into our minds each day to keep pace with the world around…to keep our places in this world- our career, our relationships, our possessions…to stabilize ourselves at the expense of the stability of our minds. And then, most of us take that ‘vacation package tour’ to exotic places and return with the happiness of having indulged in an ‘exotic’ vacation. Our mind sighs, but we refuse to acknowledge it. We dope ourselves all along with fancy foods, extravagant houses, trendy cars and clothes, social status and enviable lifestyles. Our life appears full from the outside. Deep inside, the mind yawns. We dope ourselves more to overcome this ‘boredom’ and take quicker strides towards obesity and cardiovascular disease.

I found myself moved by these words from Anne Frank’s diary:

“I looked out of the open window over a large area of Amsterdam, over all the roofs and on the horizon, which was such a pale blue that it was hard to see the dividing line. As long as this exists, and I may live to see it, this sunshine, the cloudless skies, while this lasts, I cannot be unhappy. The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quite alone with the heavens, nature and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be and that God wishes to see people happy, amidst the simple beauty of Nature. Riches can all be lost, but the happiness in your own heart can only be veiled, and it will still bring you happiness again, as long as you live.”

"Moonam pakkam" : The third day

Review:

Moonam pakkam, like all other works of Padmarajan, is a piece of creative ingenuity.
The movie is centered around human relationships- the delicate nature of human relationships, their complexity, and the way the ordinary pattern of our lives revolves around these relationships. It focuses on the simple things that give meaning and purpose to life.
In this movie, the main focus is on the relationship between Jayaram (grandson) and Thilakan (grandfather). Jayaram gives meaning to Thilakan’s life, justifying his continuing existence.
But, on a closer look, we are made to realize that the movie portrays a delicate network of intertwined relationships:
Nalini, whose life is solely nourished by Thilakan’s generosity.
Bhadra, whose dreams and goals revolve around Jayaram. While her grandfather fills the void of her parents, Jayaram gives her life a direction, a goal.
Jagathi- yet another lonely soul, who integrates himself into Thilakan’s network and fills the void in his own life.
The old doctor, whose association with Thilakan is so old and deep that one tends to overlook it.
They are all people deprived in their own ways, but the deprivation is buried by the social network that these people have created, filling the void in each others’ lives, and giving warmth to each other.
On the peripheries of this network of human relationships, are physical factors, which derive meaning from the rim of human existence that surrounds them- the lovely old house built in wood, the pond, the trees and fields, the sea and sands, the forts and ruins…
Death will always be a haunting fiasco in all our lives. This movie addresses the impact of death on our carefully woven lives.
Death targets our near and dear, and we learn to come to terms with it…we shift our goal and focus, and we continue to live.
Sometimes, death brings to surface the depth of a relationship. Also, death is powerful; it puts back the focus on all the negativities surrounding us, highlighting our hollow existence. Both these are highlighted with great sensitivity in this movie:
The grandson-grandfather relationship is so deep, that it is ordinary and natural. Had the grandson not met with death, the essence of this relationship would have been lost on us.
Also, while the grandson lives, Thilakan’s platter seems full. His grandson’s death brings to light the frightful loneliness and emptiness in his life.
This movie has a simplicity about it. It is so ordinary that one would mistake it for real life. Like Vincent says- simple works of art are the most difficult to replicate coz they have practiced the most rigid elimination.
Like all of Padmarajan’s movies, the location is a tranquil place, with immense natural beauty, and very little people…where one can hear the sounds of nature.
This movie is built on a deep rooted emotional plane- there is no element of heightened emotion all along the movie, and then it terminates abruptly with a haunting climax, throwing on our face, the horrors and the powers of reality, that we so cleverly choose to not acknowledge.

The purpose of life

I remember myself as this weak-minded, vulnerable and sensitive girl who was almost terrified of pain as an emotion. When I see little Swathi shielding her eyes from the TV screen because she cannot bear to watch the scene where a little child is being kidnapped, I am reminded of my own self. I feared pain…I feared having to feel pain. Perhaps I believed that I would eventually learn to build a fence around me- a fence that would not let pain in.

Often, the contact with pain for most of us who are brought up in a protected world comes in our adolescent years. Somehow, this predator that we have been hiding from, deceives us by disguising itself in a cloak of love. Vulnerable that we are, we let ourselves be lured and we wander astray. When we have wandered far enough from the safety and security of our protected worlds, the predator suddenly removes its cloak, and there we are- face to face with pain! This time, there is no escape from it. We run, but we have travelled too far to even know the way back to the safety and security of our homes. However hard we run, pain manages to eventually catch up with us. There comes a point when we can run no more, for we are exhausted and we have lost the fight in us. So we give up and face pain. At first, we cry…we wonder why it happened to us…we scream that life is unfair. As pain gnaws at us, many of us even think of giving up on life; we lose hope and optimism. We do not realize that this is the true beginning of the journey of our lives.

Until that point in my life, I had always seen things…perceived them…absorbed them…even stored them. But I hadn’t processed and internalized most of what I had imbibed. They all lay hidden in my mind, an invisible ‘barrier’ existing between ‘me’ and ‘them’. That barrier constitutes ego. 

Pain was painful. It was like a little fire that threatened to slowly burn all of me. It succeeded in burning a little of that barrier (ego). I remember feeling like a ‘nobody’…I remember the ‘nothingness’ that replaced months of sorrow. I was neither happy nor sad… only empty. In that emptiness, I could feel something rising within me- an uprising from that quiet corner where I had tucked away all that I had stored from the world outside. In that emptiness and silence, ‘they’ made noise…they knocked at my molten barrier…and I let them come in. They spoke and I heard. They said beautiful things to me. Hidden in all that I had stored, lay deep messages…a deep philosophy. My mind had suddenly learnt the art of decoding them. It was a moment of supreme elation. I suddenly felt that I contained within me a person I did not know…a person who had absorbed so many things from the external world without my awareness…a person who had been dormant all these years. That person had woken up and was wanting to be heard. And when I turned around, it was to find my predator- pain, laughing at me. I smiled back. We have been companions ever since. Whenever he comes up to me, I know that he brings with him something beautiful…just that it needs to be decoded. And thus, I have lost my fear of him. I have grown enough to carry his burden until I can make sense of it.

For the creator, his creation is supreme. There is more value to the overall masterpiece than to the individual elements of his masterpiece. The invisible thread between the individual elements is what sustains the masterpiece, breathes life into it and makes it beautiful. At each level, creation is not an independent assortment of elements; it is a profound and delicate interplay of elements. Take for instance, the human body. No doubt the individual organs go into the making of the whole individual, but only their mutual interplay can sustain the life of the human being. If we extrapolate this to the universe, we would understand that our identities lie in being a part of this universe.

With new eyes, I see the world around. I realize that the purpose of life lies in internalizing as much of the external world as we can…and from this internalization, recreate…and thus, enhance and sustain creation. We imbibe, process and give back. This is the only right we are entitled to. When we are born, we are only ‘self’. Our motives and drives are selfish for they only cater to the needs of the self. As we grow, we slowly learn to fit into the larger scheme of things.

Each day is in reality a process of internalization of the external world- be it places, people or experiences. Internalization generates emotions. Emotions are in reality, coded messages. If we were to listen closely to our emotions, we would understand that they are trying to speak to us…trying to unveil something hidden in them. Our mind decodes these emotions into thoughts; here lies our potential. Thoughts give us a direction in life. When we take that direction, we burn a little more of our ‘ego’ and integrate a little more into the larger scheme of things. Our goal in life then is to find our proper place in this universe- that place where we fit best so that we are able to use all our potential to sustain creation without creating conflicts with the self.

In this regard, an artist (be it a writer or a music composer or whatsoever) has the greatest potential to internalize the external world and thereby to ‘recreate’. An artist imbibes infinity. His emotional spectrum is wide and each shade of emotion is deep. An artist has the power to see the invisible- to see that delicate, invisible thread that operates between all the elements of this universe…and to bring to visibility this invisible aspect denied to most ordinary people. An artist’s medium may differ, but his art will always contain this invisible element. An artist has the ability to get into the crux of things and to decipher the hidden inner meaning in every phenomenon that surrounds us, for he is able to see the universe as a whole.

Love is not a destination or a goal…it is only an inspiration that rejuvenates us and renews our drive and motivation when we are exhausted or depleted in this journey of life. It is the banyan tree beneath which you can rest when weary…the spring from which you can drink when thirsty…the fire that keeps you warm on a cold night.