http://www.haraf.com/ Another Nifty Geeklog Site admin@haraf.com admin@haraf.com Copyright 2010 Haraf GeekLog Fri, 07 May 2010 14:26:05 +0000 en-gb http://www.haraf.com//article.php?story=20100507135453292 http://www.haraf.com//article.php?story=20100507135453292 Fri, 07 May 2010 13:54:00 +0000 http://www.haraf.com//article.php?story=20100507135453292#comments The Last Drop The Cow is Sacred – Full stop Cow is sacred. If you are an ardent Hindu, you worship her; even use its picture as your political symbol. If you are an artist paint her, everyone shall clap for you hale you as a successful artist. This is how it is done in India. ------------------------------------------------------------------- In the village, my father used to tell a story of two friends, a Goldsmith and a Trader. In this story these two men lived in villages about twenty or so miles apart. The way story went, Goldsmith often visited the Trader; one day Goldsmith invited the Trader for a return visit. On Trader’s first visit, Goldsmith’s wife prepared a special meal and served it on a large shiny plate made of solid gold. The Trader enjoyed the meal but liked the plate even more. A fleeting thought went through his mind, if he could steal it. The Goldsmith saw the greed in his friend’s eyes, and understood his desire. When Trader had retired to his room, the Goldsmith devised an ingenious way to protect his plate from his guest. He hung a basket over his bed from the ceiling, placed the golden plate in the basket and carefully filled it with water. He knew any one tried to take the plate would spell the water, which would surely wake him up, and he went to sleep. The Trader waited until he was sure his host was asleep; he tiptoed into his bedroom, surveyed the clever device to protect the golden plate. After a little brainstorming, he found a wheat straw, carefully sipped all the water from the plate, while the host slept, then he removed the plate and packed it carefully into his personal bag and went to sleep. Early morning, the Goldsmith woke up to find the basket over his bed empty; he immediately knew who could have taken the plate. Now it was his turn to tiptoe to his guest’s room, who was asleep like a log by now. He surveyed the changes; noticed Trader’s bag was more inflated than it came in. He carefully removed the plate, replaced it with a steal plate and secured the gold plate in his kitchen. Next morning, Trader looked at his bag, felt happy at his achievement; and wanted to leave for home as soon as possible. The host checked the gold plate was still in the kitchen and wanted to teach his friend a lesson. Goldsmith insisted that his guest must stay for breakfast; the host’s wish prevailed. The host made sure that his wife served the breakfast in the same gold plate to the guest. Trader was absolutely surprised and could not believe his eyes, asked his friend, how many gold plates he had in the house? The Goldsmith calmly replied, “my friend, I have only one gold plate in this house.” They both looked at the each other and smiled a knowing smile. The Goldsmith said to his guest, “my friend, we know each other well over a decade; let’s not play this game with each other”. Both agreed to travel the world and try their skills on others. This was the start of a long story, during their journey many times they become rich and then again tried to cheat each other, as a result they loose everything. At the end of the story, the Trader asked again, how may gold plates his friend had at home. The answer was only ONE. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- THREE boys Gopal, Harjit and Gogi were studying in a village school; Gopal, only son of a priest had big dreams. He wanted to make a lot of money without knowing how and he did not care either. Harjit, a quiet one, son of a simple farmer also had dreams but kept them to himself. Gogi was the only son of poor widow, who worked hard helping a big landlord’s family; and she earned enough to raise her only son. Gopal, grew up into a trouble maker, had to leave the village suddenly, when one day the police arrived to arrest him as he had tried to rape his neighbours’ daughter; and never heard again in the village for decades. Harjit, also wanted to pursue his dreams and left village became a student of a portrait painter in the hills, and ended up going to an art school in Delhi. Harjit saw a stage was set for him to fulfill his dreams of becoming as artist. He started to daydream how one day he would become an internationally known artist. But in his dream image he did not like his name Harjit, which reminded him of his village background, decided to change his name to ‘Gautam’, more suitable for an artist in the capital. Poor Gogi had to stay in the village to help his mother. After several years working as a helper to a farmer, he managed to buy a cow. The cow happened to be of a good breed and daily gave him enough milk for his family consumption and to sell a part to earn enough money for simple living. His life was a smooth progression of getting married having children and buying couple of more cows. Cows brought good luck to Gogi’s life, provided him and his family everything they needed for a simple life in the village. Gopal, name means protector of cows, became a Trader. Gopal’s priest father who worshiped the cows chose this name for his son. Times changed so quickly that now his son exported cows to Bangladesh to be killed as long he made money. Gopal, after he had made good money came to Delhi where set up a property company and made lots of money. His son who has joined him and set up a new Property Company. While son worked in Company’s Mumbai office, he met a film actress who played the role of goddesses in several Hindi movies and married her. Gopal took his son’s marriage to this demi-goddess as his personal success and made sure all her wishes were fulfilled including building a new mansion for her in Mumbai. Harjit re-branded himself as Gautam had established as a successful painter in the capital. Cow was his choice subject in his paintings, those sold like hot cakes. His full size painting of golden cow was sold for Rs.50 lacs (approx $100K), enough money to buy 200 best breed cows. But in this climate when only money counted, who wants to buy 200 living cows, it would need a lot of infrastructure to look after them and before one would see the money from their milk sales. Delhi that had become part of the global market, Rs.50 lacs invested in one sculpture had the potential to doubling it in few years, without feeding the cow in this paiting. Who would have bought such a painting in India, off course a spoiled actress from Mumbai? The sale was celebrated in a five star hotel, Gautam met the young husband of the demi-goddess, who introduced Gautam to an opportunity for him to invest in his new Property Company. People in the city’s art circles talk about the success of Gautam’s recent exhibition. An art critic had written how Gautam’s work had created awareness toward the plight of cows in the city. One review even mentioned Gautam was creating cow awareness as effective as dissected cow of Damian Hurst. But the stray cows on the streets of Delhi were still feeding on plastic bags. Who cares in this global city. Cows are sacred. Last year came the global financial crisis, the property company in which Gautam has invested all his money collapsed; leaving scores of other investors in the cold as stray cows of the city. Gogi was sitting in his courtyard, enjoying the afternoon cup of tea, thanking his cows, those provided him his livelihood without leaving the village. One day while he was thinking about his two other childhood friends, both his friends Harjit and Gopal arrived one after the other. Both of them were looking at each other trying to recognize each other’s faces those were covered with layers of thick skin, a gift of city life. Both had a look of someone when one who had lost the game of life. There was no need to say anything they both just laughed a hearty laugh. Gogi was the only one knew how many brass plates he had in his house; other two had seen their gold plates disintegrate right in front of their eyes. My friends - cows are sacred and will remain sacred while noisy traffic of the city goes by them. Avtarjeet Dhanjal http://www.haraf.com//article.php?story=20100311052401787 http://www.haraf.com//article.php?story=20100311052401787 Thu, 11 Mar 2010 05:24:00 +0000 http://www.haraf.com//article.php?story=20100311052401787#comments Big Issues Last Friday evening, Bhai Baldeep Singh, is a rare combination of musician with rich inheritance, a searching mind within and beyond the Sikh tradition. He is the 13th generation of musicians since his forefathers sang and played music for the Sikh Gurus in 16th century as he also plays with many contemporary European musicians. Bhai Baldeep Singh has almost singlehandedly revived mostly extinct traditional instruments used by his forefathers such as Rabaab, Saranda, Taous, and Dil-rubaa. In this process he has also revived the musical traditions those have also disappeared along with the instruments. Bhai Baldeep Singh when could not find these instruments, he created them by carving from wood and using natural materials such as goat skin, horse hair and animal gut materials; he even sought help from European instrument makers. This evening Bhai Baldeep Singh talked about his upbringing and his training under his father, grandfather and other music masters. He very precisely explained the process involved in creating his music, how before his fingers touch the strings of an instrument, the intent behind the touch makes sure of the outcome - the right sound - the right note. He explained that it was the intent behind the touch which controls the outcome and creates the unique vibrations into the atmosphere and in turn creating the intended sounds/feelings in the listener’s mind. He was talking about the same intent that works behind the brush strokes of a painter that makes sure of the exact combination of brush strokes using intuitively selected colours. It’s the same intent that creates the picture that was in the mind of the painter or a sculptor. Ancient Yaqui Indians wise men of Mexico understood the ‘Intent’ as the force that created this universe and keeps it moving right down to the pulsating energy within an atom. This force is so incomprehensible men over the ages have tried to humanise it by calling it God and other names. The beauty of this force is that it makes itself available to the artists, poets and musicians when they rise above the mundane concerns of everyday life. Very rarely Intent manifests itself to other human beings, when it does, they become religious and often they lose the illusive link and become empty religious demagogues. It’s the creative people who keep this link alive without becoming arrogant about it. I call artists the ‘magicians’, who use Intent to stretch such abstract thing as TIME, to create a loop of extended time; the space/time created within the loop is exclusive domain for artists’ creative activities. Within this magical space/time domain artists have a direct link with intuition. Intuition is an expression of Intent when it allows creative humans to use it. Greek philosophers Leucippus and Democritus were within this space/time loop when they intuited the theory of atomic physics without the logic and scientific labs of 20th century. In his space their intuition had laser like focus when they conceived the idea of the smallest particle the ‘Atom’ a Greek word means ‘a particle that couldn’t be further cut/divided’. Using their sharp intuition, they also intuited the movement with an atom. It took the mankind more than two thousand years of further development before atomic physicists such as Bohr, Heisenberg and Pauli proved with their experiments and mathematical provings that these atoms are not inert matter as Newtonian theory supposed, but are vibrating entities as intuited by the Greek philosophers. In the bigger picture, according to the Indian thinkers of the Vedic era, this universe, that we can see and we can’t see, is the manifestation of the same force, ‘Intent’, or ’Brahman’ or the ‘Tao’ as known to the Chinese. Luckily artists, poets, thinkers and men of knowledge have learnt to use this force for their creative pursuits without becoming religious. As a rule, all sentient beings are endowed with this magical facility but most people are not aware of we are all born with this wonderful gift. Animals not having encumbered with human logic keeps this link intact, what we call instinct. There are examples that on rare occasions even common people have used the same intent without knowing about it. Many years ago, a young woman, a teacher watched my interview on Indian television, felt the strong urge to meet me. After some search she found out that I came from a village only few miles from the town where she was teaching. She even found out that she had a student in her class from my village. Couple of weeks later, I was visiting this town with my sister, I met a man from my village whose daughter was a student in this young teacher’s class. He stopped me on the road, and asked, if I had any spare time, could I visit this young teacher, and he handed me a piece of paper with her name and address. We had come to this town to visit one of our cousins. By chance our cousin was not at home and we have about an hour at our hands. My sister suggested that we should go and visit this young teacher in the meantime. When we arrived at her house un-announced, we walked through a large open gate into a wide courtyard; this young woman was standing under a tree with one of her colleagues. She had just narrated a dream that she had the night before. In her dream I had visited her at her home. She was wondering how it could be possible since she had never met me. On the other hand I didn’t even know until half an hour ago, that such a woman existed? Before her colleague could respond to her question, I physically arrived on the scene. On seeing me walking into her house, she was totally shocked and her skin colour went white. She was about to faint, when my sister quickly made her sit down and brought a glass of water to drink. It took a while for this young woman to realise my walking in to her house was not an extension of her dream that she had the night before. Without knowing, this young woman had used her intent to create my circumstances to come to her town that day, made this man to give me her address just in time, sent my cousin to go away for an hour, and created the loop in space/time for me to walk to her house at the very moment, when she had just related her dream to her colleague. She could not believe that it was her strong intent had really made all this happen. Or we can say, the universal force, the Intent had placed itself at her command to make things happen very precisely with laser like precision on that day. Bhai Baldeep Singh uses this magical facility every time he touches his musical instrument. Avtarjeet Dhanjal Thursday, 25 February 2010 Amritsar, India First published in ‘Last Drop’ a regular page in ‘Universal Colours’ published by EU-MAN in Helsinki. http://www.haraf.com//article.php?story=20100125095606363 http://www.haraf.com//article.php?story=20100125095606363 Mon, 25 Jan 2010 09:56:00 +0000 http://www.haraf.com//article.php?story=20100125095606363#comments Events Saturday, 23 January 2010 Avtarjeet was invited to give a talk by The Press Club of India, New Delhi Most people when they get the chance to address the press, they talk about their achievements, it is more so the case when one returns to his/her home country after having spent few decades abroad. It is only natural, since most of us when we leave our countries, we go to achieve something. I have come here to you, NOT to tell you about my achievements, , I have come here only to share my realisations. As all achievements have a short lifespan, where realisations are life long, sometime they remain in the public space beyond one’s life. Our realisations are based upon the circumstances in which we live our lives. The world around us is our reality; so our realisations are our interpretations of our reality. Only choice we can make, is how we interpret this reality. An illegal economic migrant, landing on the shores of a cold country like Britain, his experience of Britain will be very different from the young man/woman who is invited a British University or a large corporation due his talent in a very specialised field of science or technology. On a different scale millions of microbes, those live in our stomach, their task is to process our food, into a useful product that our body needs. To live in human or animal’s stomach and continue their task, that is the Reality for these microbes. Similarly all the plants, birds, animals and the humans live their own reality. Though human have established their place in this universe by developing what we call ‘intellect’ during thousands of year of development. Intellect an additional faculty is what separates humans from other sentient beings. as a result we make conscious decisions based upon our intellectual capacity. Today we have gathered here in this room, not that we smelled food, but due to our conscious decisions. To arrive at this juncture where we could chose to attend this small gathering today or not, we had a choice, we have felt it essential to spare time to discuss such a topic. Or let’s say that life has been kind to us that we could spare our time for such a discussion; that is our Interpretation of Reality that surrounds us. Every child born in this world has a natural instinct to explore the world around, soon it finds out that the reality around demands that it must learn to survive, develop its abilities to understand the reality and then interpret it from his/her unique point of view. We have equally strong natural urge to share our discovery, our interpretation with the world around us. Every living species has the same urge, be it a small flower that grows in a harsh arid environment still programmes its life in such a way that it opens its bud when its fragrance will spread as far as possible. What we call/interpret as achievements, it also very much depends upon first how the reality is introduced to us by the people around us. A boy named Manilal Baumik grew up in poverty in a Bengali village, went to California, excelled as a scientist, when he could afford it, he bought a huge mansion on hill and gave big parties, just to tell all that he is not a poor boy anymore. It was to exhibit/share his achievements. A Jain girl, in ‘Nine Lives’ of William Dalrymple sets the aim of her life to live as a nun and happily goes through a very painfull experience of getting her each hair pulled out for its roots; on the other hand when I asked the son of my Indian family in Birmingham, what dreams he had for life. The answer was to become a millionaire and drive Ferrari. This was dream he nurtured in an environment in his parents’ home; where the most important achievement was to earn money. Few years ago, I was visiting a philosopher friend in Vancouver, the very first morning when I getting ready to go for morning jog, his 8 years old son Jonah offered to accompany me. It was bit crazy of me to go for jog with a thin cotton Tee-shirt and shorts, when it was snowing outside. When we are about half mile from the house, Jonah told me that he had been waiting to ask me a question, which his father thought I may have an answer. That was the reason he was up early and offered to accompany me for a jog in the snow. I had to stop to listen to him. Jonah said, ‘I am already 8 years old, and I still don’t know the purpose of my life.’ I was not ready for such a question while scantily dressed and jogging in the snow. I politely asked him if he could wait till we were home and seated in a warm place, I could try to answer it. This was the most important question for this young man and he had set his priories accordingly. Considering that the Press Club has introduced me an artist/sculptor, you would have expected me to present you with some images of my sculptures if not the original works. Yes I made objects people called them sculptures until about 12 years ago, when Institute of International Visual Arts, organised a big show of my work in London, and published a monograph. I had already exhibited with name like Henry Moore and had seen posters of my exhibition displayed on the London metro along where all major events are advertised; since I have lost my appetite to make objects. There have been few points in my life when I had to reconsider direction of my life. To indicate my new direction, let me quote here what I wrote in 1988, part of longer article. ‘If we imagine, the whole of the humanity is a large caravan traveling with time. In this caravan most people are busy pulling/pushing, carrying their possessions, sweating in a race of material achievements. Most of the artists are happy to be part of the caravan, interpreting/celebrating its activities, achievements and other trivialities, serving fellow travelers, producing objects of desire to embellish the caravan. It has to be a rare artist/thinker, who disengages oneself from this entourage; frees from this rat-race, runs ahead of caravan/time to finds a vantage point to grasp/intuit an overview, where the caravan is coming from and where it is heading to. Then he/she expresses this vision by singing a song, playing a piece of music, writing a poem or by using another medium to share this vision.’ Avtarjeet Dhanjal 1988 Now For the last 10-12 years I have been searching beyond the world of material objects. My glimpse into religious classics, right from Sumerian times to 20th century, discussions on the nature of Reality at quantum level has revealed that human beings have interpreted Reality, the world around them using limited vocabularies of language, and the concepts available to them, at that particular place and time in history. Today the world is treating these interpretations as Gospels, and the basis for all their thinking and value systems. Early 20th century when Brancusi, the Romanian sculptor, developed a human head in the shape of an egg -very first piece of abstract sculpture- it was considered a landmark in the Western Art world. Though in India, the concept of the Abstract had existed right from the Vedic times. But when presented in glossy publications, made Indian artists feel as if they were receiving something new. Why these details matter to me and to the rest of the world? Because the Western thoughts are based upon the concepts developed in the Old Testament. The idea of primacy of the material world is based upon this Abrahamic idea of Reality. Today, using latest information technology and aggressive marketing, the West is exporting these values to the rest of the world, as the only valid interpretation of Reality. All other interpretations are being condemned as archaic and outdated. The contemporary Art world is also using the very notion of Reality to evaluate the works of Art on the markets of New York and London and now Mumbai and New Delhi too; whereas the value of Art works in Ajanta and Elora was based upon their intrinsic worth, not on market value. Such works of Art, when you happen to come across, touch you at such a deeper level, a level within you, not reached in normal day to day living. These works are produced by artists who had reached a state of mind beyond the mundane. Such artists create these works NOT for auctions in London/New York, but as expressions of gratitude to the universal creative force that inspired them at the first place. These timeless works may have been created centuries ago, still exude an energy that takes the viewers beyond their physical boundaries. The prevailing values in the art markets today are mostly based upon the media headlines. We have seen media can be easily manipulated by producing something shocking; be it the ‘Unmade Bed’ of Tracey Emin, or infested cow head by Damien Hurst. Media headlines rarely have any relevance to the real worth of an event, idea or a work of Art. It was an example of fickleness of the British media, when a twelve years old English girl, bored with life, created headlines just by running away with a soldier. People also create messiahs when they need one. Two thousand years ago, a humble Jew named Jesus was turned into a messiah, by changing several facts including his date of birth to fit a prediction in the Old Testament. More recently the British, in their effort to stay in the limelight, needed couple of jugglers to flag around on international art stage, who could make headlines in the media just by shocking human senses. BBC Radio 4 has a long running program called ‘Desert Island Discs’, the interviewee/castaway is usually asked to choose a handful of items, what he/she would like to take with him/her, if sent away to an island. I have not yet heard if any of the castaways have chosen a work by Damien Hurst or Tracey Emin to take with him/her to give him/her a constant delight or spiritual uplift on this island. Issue here, is not that I have personally anything against Jesus Christ, or the two jugglers, but how the dominant powers build up a hypothesis, a value system and make you believe, as if it was the only TRUTH available to mankind. Above were some of my realisations, those I wanted to share with you. I have wandered the world for exactly 40 years, I am back here knowing at the door of my own country, when global forces has swayed almost everyone including our artists/writers and thinkers are busy improving their market value, struggling to achieve highest market prices of their goods, I am not sure how many people will be willing to listen or take seriously my realisations. But these are my realisations, my achievements of last 40 years and I can’t disown them. Your response to this very talk today will set my agenda; I stay longer in this country and share more with my fellow countrymen or continue my wandering around the world. Finally I express my sincere thanks my friend S. Balwant who introduced me to the Press Club and the management of the Press Club of India, who organised this talk. Avtarjeet Dhanjal http://www.haraf.com//article.php?story=20090717214632853 http://www.haraf.com//article.php?story=20090717214632853 Fri, 17 Jul 2009 21:46:00 +0000 http://www.haraf.com//article.php?story=20090717214632853#comments The Last Drop I walk on this planet, looking looking wondering, wondering being amazed at the beauty around us. I was silently thanking the Spirit for its generosity , for giving me the energy to be curious to be perceptive to be creative; and for giving me the chance to witness all that was around me. Life also gave me the chance to express my thoughts, my feelings of exultation, to witness and to wonder about life and many other things. I walked into my living room switched on the television and saw a carnage going on; couple of young men shooting indiscriminately in a Mumbai hotel. I could here the shouts the screams and the gun shots; I also felt the pain of people who had just fallen down either dead or close their death. I heard their screams I felt their pain in my body I felt their death in my soul I could almost hear their last breath a breath that could be the last one they would take on this planet. I could see their eyes going out of focus a darkness falling around them. The same beautiful world I was wondering about only a few moments ago. I asked what have these victims done wrong? except, they just happened to be on the wrong place at the wrong time. These people might have been there just for a drink or a meal with their loved ones; or just to celebrate a happy event. The death just rushed in from nowhere, did not give them few more moments to enjoy their last evening. I wondered what these people were thinking a moment ago, what were their plans for the evening or for the next day or for next week or for the next month? I wondered if their wives, their young children were waiting at home; not knowing that their loved ones would not return, to give them another hug of a kiss. I did not spare a thought for the young men with guns, until I had switched the TV off, and came to my bed. Only then it hit me; my God, these yougmen must have their mothers, sisters, wives waiting for them too at home. These innocent mothers, sisters, wives would probably haven’t had a clue where their loved ones had gone or what they were doing? Only difference between the victims and the killers I could think of, the killers choose to be there and the victims happened to be there; at a wrong place at a wrong time. If one could borrow the logic of these gunmen, both the killers and the victims were there at the right time at the right place; to kill and to be killed. It all depends upon what logic the society has given us to justify our actions. I am an artist, before that I am a human being; I feel the pain of senseless loss of live, as a human being. Being an artist, I have little advantage, I can look at the events with little detachment; and share with you; my feelings, my realisations through my words, lines and colours. Avtarjeet Dhanjal 12/2/2008 http://www.haraf.com//article.php?story=20090717214309262 http://www.haraf.com//article.php?story=20090717214309262 Fri, 17 Jul 2009 21:43:00 +0000 http://www.haraf.com//article.php?story=20090717214309262#comments The Last Drop At a friends house in Amritsar, I was sitting in front of the computer, it was the last day to write and send my regular page for ‘Universal Colours’. I was struggling to find the hook to hang may thoughts together; Roopa walks in with a big smile and pair of bright eyes, eyes those exude the delight of being alive. I had met Roopa and her husband, couple of years earlier in a conference in UK, the only couple in the whole crowd that you would like to meet again and again. The love between the two gave me the feeling that if they had just fallen in love with each other. At the end of the year when I visited them in Amritsar, discovered to my surprise that they had been married for eighteen years and they had a son almost sixteen. I asked Roopa to tell me a story. She hesitated a little and then narrated me a story that she had read years earler. “There was a couple; both loved each other that anyone could have given life for the other. The husband was suffering from an un-curable disease and was dying slowly. In spite of deep love for the man, the woman couldn’t see him suffering; so she decided to end his suffering sooner than later. She started to mix a small amount of poison in his daily medicine. The man loved the woman with equal intensity and wanted to die as quickly as possible. To reduce the suffering of his wife; he decided not take the medicine to accelerate his death, without knowing that the medicine could rather have fulfill his wish.” Roopa, stopped at this point in the story. I asked her, why did she like this particular story? Did she saw herself in the role of the woman in the story? My question sent Roopa into her deep thoughts. Many different expressions came and went over her face. I could almost see many different scenes of a documentary being played behind her dark eyelashes. She tried to say something, but she seemed rather shaken, my question had forced her to think something that she did not want to. Like most people she did not want even to imagine herself in such a situation. I could see from her face, she had to think the unthinkable, especially when she herself is perpetually in love with her husband. After few moments, her eyes brightened and she opened her red lips to say something, and she stopped for moment. I could almost intuit the thoughts being formed in her head and taking shape into words, “I know that if I happen to be in the situation where this woman in the story was, I would feel trapped in a dark alley, ‘something’ in me will come out to show me the way forward.” I question Roopa further, if this ‘something’ would come from her own being or from the aura of love that they both have created around them? I was trying to force her to analyze her very source, from where her poetry comes? She answerd in her poetic language, and said, “I believe there was a chushma/spring of creativity within me, my husband came into my life and lifted the stone that was blocking the flow of water/creativity. Only then I discovered how much life had given me, which has been flowing abundantly through my poetry since. That is the source I get all the answers, even the most difficult ones. While I was talking to Roopa, an old friend of mine Manu called. Manu is another story; in this story, Manu was born into a well off loving family; she was gifted with everything one could dream off. Manu grew into a tall beautiful woman with talent for art and music; had the university education up to Masters in Literature and Philosophy. All the tools a modern woman of her generation could ask for to start a happy creative fulfilling life. But this very generosity of life, and the feeling that she had everything she needed, which could have been endless source for her creative life, but became her prison. During the last three decades I had known her, she has been continuously digging herself deeper and deeper in to a hole, and where she now left with nothing else, but weeping and self pity. The woman in her story had continuously building a wall around her higher and higher everyday, where she could only see herself, but nothing else. Manu, has called me several times while I was in India, asking me when I shall be in her city? When I asked her, what she would like to do when I shall be with her. Her answer was the same that she had given me for the last thirty years, “Nothing, I have nothing to share, I am only waiting for the end of my life.” Then she told me about a poem, an obituary that she had already written for herself. Roopa was still sitting in front of me, her eyes still shining, waiting to tell me, she had so much to share, that she could continuously write her poetry non-stop for years to come. When I visualized the large gap between Roopa and Manu, I felt falling into a dark space. At the bottom of my fall, I felt the liquid darkness around me. Something came out of me like a light; I got up, or rather woke up from a dream, and wrote the above lines to share with you. I feel I have two unlimited sources of different energies that would take me years to examine and write and share with you. Avtarjeet Dhanjal March 5, 2009 http://www.haraf.com//article.php?story=2009071721383459 http://www.haraf.com//article.php?story=2009071721383459 Fri, 17 Jul 2009 21:38:00 +0000 http://www.haraf.com//article.php?story=2009071721383459#comments The Last Drop Curiosity – First Step to Creativity We human beings are born as curious animals. The first thing children do is to observe and explore their surroundings; based upon these observations they form images and ideas to make sense of their surroundings. Once children know what is around them, they start to imagine the things those are not within their visual field, taking cues from sounds and other indirect perceptions. A child’s ability to imagine/dream things those are beyond their direct experience is the first step towards creativity. • All human beings are born with finite amount of energy; to imagine and to dream we spare need energy. How much energy one can spare for imagining and being creative depends upon how much energy one is born with at the first place? You can always see/notice some babies can’t wait to get out their prams to explore the world beyond. • Second factor is also equally important; the environment one is born in. I have seen many people who could be very creative, but they just happen to be born in the circumstances where they need to expand all of their energy to find food and shelter. They are hardly left with any energy to even to grasp and appreciate what is around them and leave alone being able to imagine and to create. You might have noticed many unfortunate factory workers walking though gardens full of spring flowers, but they simply walk past without noticing anything, simply worried about the day’s work. That is sometimes called fate. • Third factor is the value system the society hands over to its next generation. In some societies, the rules of social order are defined so strictly that young people are almost yoked / harnessed into keeping their heads down and to keep working as directed by the social order. It happens more so with female members of deeply religious societies. The young people are hardly given a moment to raise their eyes to take in the enormous beauty nature has created around them. As a result, only a small percentage of young people are lucky to be born with enough energy, into circumstances where survival doesn't need much effort, or they have fond a way to bypass them. They can also be lucky to be part of the social order that is open, liberal and conducive to creativity. Then one has all the tools one needs top start a creative life; then it is up to your own decision/initiative to pick up the torch and run. Many people have talked about creativity; here are few quotations: Albert Einstein "The intuitive mind is a sacred gift and the rational mind is a faithful servant. We have created a society that honors the servant and has forgotten the gift." Buckminster Fuller: "When I am working on a problem I never think about beauty. I only think about how to solve the problem. But when I have finished, if the solution is not beautiful, I know it is wrong." Erich Fromm: “Creativity requires the courage to let go of certainties.” Nietzsche: “You need chaos in your soul to give birth to a dancing star.” Oscar Levant: “There's a fine line between genius and insanity. I have erased this line.” Pablo Picasso: “All children are artists. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up.” Rita Mae Brown: “Creativity comes from trust. Trust your instincts. And never hope more than you work.” Robert C. Fuller : “Spirituality exists wherever we struggle with the issue of how our lives fit into the greater cosmic scheme of things. This is true even when our questions never give way to specific answers or give rise to specific practices such as prayer or meditation. We encounter spiritual issues every time we wonder where the universe comes from, why we are here, or what happens when we die. We also become spiritual when we become moved by values such as beauty, love, or creativity that seem to reveal a meaning or power beyond our visible world. An idea or practice is "spiritual" when it reveals our personal desire to establish a felt-relationship with the deepest meanings or powers governing life.” Theodore Adorno: “A successful work of art is not one which resolves contradictions in a spurious harmony, but one which expresses the idea of harmony negatively by embodying the contradictions, pure and uncompromised, in its innermost structure.” V. S. Naipaul: “I have trusted to my intuition to find the subjects, and I have written intuitively. I have an idea when I start, I have a shape; but I will fully understand what I have written only after some years.” Victor Hugo: “An invasion of armies can be resisted, but not an idea whose time has come.” Virginia Woolf: “Odd how the creative power at once brings the whole universe to order.” Barthold Georg Niebuhr “Another word for creativity is courage” George Prince “The principle goal of education is to create men who are capable of doing new things, not simply of repeating what other generations have done - men who are creative, inventive and discoverers” Jean Piaget (Swiss Psychologist and pioneer in the study of child intelligence, 1896-1980) “Creativity is inventing, experimenting, growing, taking risks, breaking rules, making mistakes, and having fun.” Mary Lou Cook (American community activist, calligrapher and author) “Creativity is discontent translated into arts” http://www.haraf.com//article.php?story=20090717210909379 http://www.haraf.com//article.php?story=20090717210909379 Fri, 17 Jul 2009 21:09:00 +0000 http://www.haraf.com//article.php?story=20090717210909379#comments Big Issues Time as concept When a Maori villager came to visit London for the first time, he was amazed at so things, and he tried to make sense of everything from his perspective. After spending over a month, he returned to his village in New Zealand. Every evening people from his village would come to his house and he would tell them stories about London, and entertain them. He had figured our most to the things in his own way, there was one thing he could get a handle on it; it was the concept of Time. He noticed almost everyone carried a watch, there were clocks everywhere. Most people would look at the clock and rushed to some where. When he tried to talk to someone or ask a question, people would say, ‘haven’t got time’. He could not understand why these people did not have the time, what happened their time. Sure, eh did not had any schooling, but he understood that day was divided into 24 hours and every body’s day had the same length. He felt he had abundant time, at least full 24 hours at his disposal, what happened to the 24 hours of those people, who say that they do not have the time. Let’s look at the time, from where we started with the story of the Maori villager. What is Time and why people do not have enough time. At the beginning the Time did not exist not even the idea. Obviously the man did not exist to develop the idea; so one moment in time was no different from billion years. When our planet Earth came into being, in the process of its creation like billions of other planets, the material came together with the motion of spinning of each planet. Our planet started to spin not only on its axis, but also around the biggest planet in this galaxy the Sun. When man came into being and it tried to make sense of the day and night phenomenon; it divided the full circle of day and night into 24 parts and called each part an ‘Hour’ and so on divided it further in to minutes and seconds. Then the earth’s annual circle around the sun created different seasons and the year came into existence. Then plants and other life on the planet adapted to the annual cycle of growth and decay. Human life also adapted to this annual cycle. Since each plant, animal and humans has the capacity to last only limited number of these cycles. The human being, as it has developed another concept of counting (the language of book keeping) started to keep tab on number of years, months, days and hours etc. Man developed the concept of Time only for its own book keeping, as it has created the concept of Money for the same purpose. These elements are important to keep this modern world going; but Time and Money are relevant only on this planet, the earth where we live. Once we leave this planet both these elements Time and Money has absolutely no value. The modern man got carried away with these two elements using counting as a language for book keeping, and it started to cram each hour/minute with an agenda what it would like to excel in procuring its second beloved element of money. Modern man has come to a point that it is counting each minute in the terms of money. As a result modern man has not enough time or the money; whereas half a century ago, the same man had enough to time and the money. When you stand back and look at the universe, everything is in abundance; to be more precise, it is limitless, what Guru Nanak called ‘Anant’. Since the universe is the material expression - Sargun of the Universal force Nirgun. As Nirgun the Brahman itself is limitless, so is everything else the universe. Everything in the universe not only limitless, but very delicately balanced too. The space, the material/atoms, the gases, the water, the gravity, the heat and light of the suns in each galaxy is just of the right amount. In scientific terms, the universe is created and held together by four essential elements - the gravity, nuclear force, the strong and the weak Force to exist. If either of these forces was a fraction more or less, the universe could not exist or would have collapsed immediately. The same abundance and balance percolates to keep everything working on our planet earth, further to human life and even down to every atom. Then one would ask the question, why there is so much poverty/shortage of food, water, and the shortage of time comes from? The newspapers are full of warnings of shortage of one thing or the other every day. Man’s greed and poverty According to the figures available today, every year there are more than enough cereals grown, to feed every one on this planet. So is everything else in this world. There are two reasons for the shortage, one is easier to understand, the ‘unfair distribution’. To understand the second reason we need to go little deeper, that we shall discuss in the part 2 of this article. Let’s deal with the simple reason; its the human greed, using resources such as food and water as tools of control and dominance over the others – the weaker ones. It happens on personal level, on group level, national level as well as on global level. Here is an example from the book ‘How the other half dies’ by Susan George, who worked for FAO (Food and Agriculture Organisation of UN) in Rome. In the late 1960s, Egypt was looking for ways to increase its cereal production. Though Nile delta has been one of the seven centres of early civilisation in the world due to the fertility of the land around Nile River, as was the case of the Punjab, the Babylon and others. Due to fast increases in Egyptian population, Nasser government was anxious to meet the demand locally as was the thinking in many other newly independent countries. The US government was looking to increase its influence in the Middle East, offered to help. They sent in a team of experts, who tested the soil, the water and climate, produced a report. The conclusions were the local conditions were not the best to produce wheat, but it was a good place to grow tomatoes. The report also offered to send an American company that would set up couple of factories to process tomatoes and export to the US and other countries. It also pointed out that US was producing enough wheat to meet the Egyptian needs. Trusting Egyptian government of the day accepted the recommendations of the report in 1968 two tomato processing factories were set up, and the local farmers were encouraged to produce tomatoes as cash crop. The tomato production worked for 3-4 years, the local farmers got used to the process and started to depend upon the cash crop, the company running the two factories brought in new rules – any tomatoes which were one day under-ripe or one day over ripe, would get only half the price. The tomatoes are not a crop that you hold back, store like wheat, until the buyer’s offers the full price. The farmers had no choice but to accept the new regime and get reduced price. By 1972-3 the farmers were getting more or less half price of their produce of that was agreed at the first place. In the meantime, the US government to create a shortage of wheat in the market place, to raise its price on global market, it subsidised its farmers to either hold back the produce or just to burn the crop, to create shortage. As a result of this policy of the US government, the wheat prices doubled and where as poor Egyptian farmers were getting half the price of its tomato produce. As a result they needed to sell four kilos of tomatoes to by the same amount of wheat that they could with one kilo five years ago. When Egyptian government objected to this, the company packing the tomatoes, they reasoned that there was over production of the tomatoes in the world and it’s not economical for it to pay more. When Egyptian government put little pressure on the company it decided to close the two factories, and the poor Egyptians were left with no demand its tomatoes and had to pay increased prices for it demand for wheat. At this very time, in the US, meat producers to hasten the process of put more meat on the bodies of cows and pigs, they were feeding them on corn. The fact is that to gain one extra kilo of beef, they need to feed the cows around 15-17 kilos of corn, and around 7-8 kilos grains to a pig to get extra kilo of ham. So a meat eater in the US is consuming 15 times more cereals that a vegetarian would do in India. The world average is that meat takes 5-7 times of more resources to produce one meal of meat than a meal of the same calorie value of vegetarian meal. This is just one example how ‘the other half dies’ as was book title of Susan George’s book. So it’s not the universe that is unfair, it’s the human greed that is creating the poverty and the wars and most of other sufferings in the world. Its not a good idea to leave you with this note helplessness; in the next article we shall discuss were this idea of greed of resources and the power came from, and if we change our greed into generosity, the abundance starts to flow into our life naturally. Avtarjeet Dhanjal http://www.haraf.com//article.php?story=20090426201547779 http://www.haraf.com//article.php?story=20090426201547779 Sun, 26 Apr 2009 20:15:47 +0000 http://www.haraf.com//article.php?story=20090426201547779#comments The Last Drop During the 80s, Panjab, my homeland went through a difficult period. Indira Gandhi government created a Sikh separatist leader in the Panjab, as result a lot of young Sikh joined this separatist movement. Though I always support genuine freedom movements; but this movement was created by the government itself and went out of hand. As a result thousand of innocent people were killed. As an artist from the same land, I took a stand on shared Panjabi cultural values and heritage by all Panjabis, Hindus, Sikhs and Muslims, I did not want to my homeland to be devided again, as it happened in 1947 with a huge loss of life. During this difficult period, once I was visiting the Panjab, and was interviewed on the TV; when I publicly emphasised the shared values of all Panjabis. After my Panjab visit, when I retuned to Britain, I received a letter with no return address but stamped in the Pakistan. It was a letter from young Sikh, who had joined the separatist movement, taken refuge in Pakistan. He happened to watch my interview on the Panjabi TV, wrote me a very passionate letter. He was troubled that how much of the Panjabi culture had been lost due to industrialisation and globalisation, plus by the short-sighted politics of the Indira Gandhi Government in Delhi. In this letter, he also said, “We both are fellow Panjabi artists, only difference is that you create using hammer and chisel but I create using AK 47.” This was the first time my work was compared in such context. Though I will never support the use of AK47 or any kind of arms as a creative tool or tool for change. According to Oxford dictionary, anyone who practices a practical skill could be called an artist. As a result ‘Art’ and ‘Artist’ word has been freely used, I would say freely abused. William Laurence reporting in New York Times on August 9, 1945, called the bomber plane that dropped the atomic bomb on Nagasaki, ‘The Great Artiste’ (sic). Any way who am I to object for such use of these words, when the very language we all use to communicate ‘English’ is not my language at the first place. The guardians of this language are the two big powers, who have the monopoly over the use and meaning of these words. Language is after all such a potent tool, you may be called the ‘freedom fighter’ in your language, but once you are called ‘terrorist’ in English no one will be able to challenge it. You can be sent to Guantánamo Bay without any further proof. My friends, we are left with no choice but to use this very language for our expression of communication and creativity. If we don’t, we shall not be heard at all. I also use it, as it happened to be, a borrowed tool of communication and expression. We artists express our new idea/thought to share our concerns or passions to share with the world, without harming others. That is where we differ from other kind of artists, who wish to change the world by direct action of a gun or a bomb. Does it mean anyone who uses his words creatively to change the world, not AK47 is an artist? It would mean George Bush or Tony Blair, for that matter Osama Bin Laden too, who probably never raised their hand on anybody, but used their words creatively, that resulted in huge loss of life, are artists too. I am sure you would not agree to call them artists; because we all consider their actions morally wrong. I must admit that I do have some sympathy for the cause of Bin Laden. Reading Bin Laden biography written by Adam Robison, one can’t stop to admire his total dedication to his cause and his relentless zeal to the mission. That seems very close to the mission Van Gough pursued. I certainly have little sympathy; rather I abhor the vulgarity of Damien Hurst using the cover of art to sell his diamond studded skull for 100 million Dollars. My friends more we try to justify our creativity in this crowded world, more we will find ourselves in the corner. Our strength lies in what we create. If our work can give a different insight into human mind and remind people they are human beings and so are ones we go and kill as enemies. If we remain true to our work, carry on doing it, even without any immediate rewards/recognition, as Van Gough did in his hard days. Our work will survive beyond the changes brought by the use of AK47 and nuclear bombers. Avtarjeet Dhanjal First published in 'Universal Colours' Helsinki http://www.haraf.com//article.php?story=20090426201334820 http://www.haraf.com//article.php?story=20090426201334820 Sun, 26 Apr 2009 20:13:00 +0000 http://www.haraf.com//article.php?story=20090426201334820#comments The Last Drop At one time on this planet, there were only fish, animals, birds and insects, and one of the animals looked like humans, yet they were not different from the other animals. They were all fighting and killing and eating one another and that made God very unhappy. God called a meeting of all his angels, and asked for their advice. It was decided to create a loving, thoughtful and disciplined creature and call it a human being. One morning God decided to follow the Sun with a bag full of the seeds that would change human like animals into real human beings. God picked up a country on earth that had the highest mountain, which happened to be India. God chose the best attributes from his bag of Feelings, Love, Passion, and Devotion, and God continued showering these gifts until He reached Greece. The Greeks had already heard of God’s coming and his gifts, so they set up a welcome party and consulted among themselves, what gifts to ask from God. God was very pleased by their efforts. The Greeks thought that they were of different race from the dark people to the East and the South, so they deserved something special. After listening to their requests and a little bit of thinking, God said, “I shall give you the best attribute that I have got, ‘Thinking, Dialogue & Logic’. With these attributes, you will create new ideas, theories; to be followed by all of your kind.” God also warned that they should not expect all humans on the planet to follow their theories, especially the people he had already given the Feelings and Passion. God also added, “When you do not obey my advice there will be destruction on this planet.” Before God continued on his journey around the planet, there was a delegation from Africa, urging Him not to ignore them. God said, “You have traveled far and I have to give you something which you have already shown to me, the ‘Strength’, physical strength.” God assured them that no other people will be able to match them; as a result women from all the continents would secretly long for you. The Sun had already reached the other side of the planet, shining on Japan and China and other countries of the East; God just managed to catch up and saw that the Japanese were a very different race. God was running out of attributes/gifts to distribute, but while he was thinking hard to find a new attribute he noticed that these people were verypolite and waiting patiently on their knees. God said, “I shall give you something no other people have, ‘Discipline and Dedication’.” God added that with these two attributes you will be known all over the planet, you would work hard to make these attributes perfect. The most obedient people have since been working hard and making everything perfect. Part II When I was attending St. Martin’s School of Art in London one of our lecturers used to take our weekly seminars where he would bring his written papers and read to our Post-Grad class. These discussions were very varied, since almost half the students came from other countries, among which were French, German, Turkish, Japanese, Singaporean and an Indian as well, so it was very interesting how, at the beginning of the year, all the foreign students kept a low key in discussions as a sign of politeness and most of the British students would tow the line of the paper’s presenter. One afternoon the presented paper’s title was ‘SCULPTURE IS A THING’ and the learned presenter spoke for over an hour about the ‘thingness’ of the sculpture. Some of the foreign students were getting edgy. What I discovered for the first time in my life was that as long as I was listening to the speaker I was following the argument, but at the end of the reading if someone had asked me what the paper was about, there was nothing I could remember. So I faced the lecturer, told him politely, that his arguments in the paper were like sand, that just filtered through my fingers and I was left with nothing to hold on to. Normally when one listens to someone’s argument for over an hour, whether one has agreed with speaker’s point of view or not, you at least knew what the argument was about? However, in this case, there was nothing I could hold onto from the ‘thingness’ of the sculpture. In India, where I grew up, when some one expounded upon something very abstract, such as TRUTH or HONESTY, it was mostly illustrated with a story. At the end of the story the core idea became evident as a shining pearl, as if it had just popped out of its shell, and was now sitting in full daylight on your palm. It would always leave you amazed at why you did not find this pearl before. Our learned lecturer very firmly told me that was not how things are done in Europe, “You are after pearls of wisdom, but we only use logic to build an argument. We do not need to be passionate about these things. After all “Sculpture is only a Thing”. http://www.haraf.com//article.php?story=20090426190119624 http://www.haraf.com//article.php?story=20090426190119624 Sun, 26 Apr 2009 19:01:19 +0000 http://www.haraf.com//article.php?story=20090426190119624#comments The Last Drop In 1985, I was invited to take part in St Louis Arts Festival. During my stay with two local artists, one of them very kindly arranged an appointment with a director of gallery, where he was showing. While I was talking to the Gallery director he was at the same time attending other business. He was not listening to me, on realization, I closed my portfolio and asked my friend, let us go home. So we left, the gallery director did not bother to ask, why we were leaving? My friend felt very strange the way this gallery director treated us in such a manner. Part of my participation in the Arts Festival; I created an installation of ’15 Floating Flames’ in the Grand Basin, Central Park, St Louis. I cast huge candles of about 2 feet diameter in a candle factory, floated them in the Basin. In the evening we lit them with a blow-lamp going in the boat. The candles of this size had about 40mm thick wicks created nearly 4 feet of flames, those equally reflected in the water, as result whole Basin was lit up. Same day St Louis main paper gave half page coverage to my other installation in a public square, which brought 9 O’clock news cameras to cover the evening installation of 15 candles. Having seen on the main evening news, my two installations were talk of the city and it brought several hundred more people to the Grand Basin to watch he candles. Next morning to my surprise, the proud gallery director walked to my other Installation in the square, congratulated me on the success of my installation the night before, and the media coverage it received. To my surprise and to my sculptor host, he suggested that we could business, could I come to the gallery to talk. I said to the proud director of the gallery, No gentleman, I came to see you and did not listen to me; what was the point to meet again? The gallery director then invited me for breakfast next day at his home. But he did not invite my sculptor friend, who introduced us was not invited to the breakfast. But he kindly drove me in his car to his house and left me there. Second surprise when I went in, the gallery director was not at home, but there was a young man working in the kitchen, he invited me in and offered me coffee, while wait for the gallery director to return. This crafty director applied another old trick on me; when you want to make someone feel small / unimportant - keep him/her waiting for you. I had to wait for more than half an hour. I would have left, had I any transport. I had no option just to wait, but it made me realize unless I firm with this man, he would continue to play silly games. On his return when we sat down to talk, I wanted to hear from him he had to offer me. He suggested that I would show my work in his gallery at the same time I would create a public installation to generate media attention. It was clear that exhibitions in his gallery did not get half page coverage or covered on the main evening news. Since as an outsider I managed to generate this media attention, so he was keen that I show my work in his gallery. Then I knew it was my time to play firm, get the best deal from this blood sucker man. During negotiations, he allowed me to push him as far I could and agreed to show my work the following year in his gallery. May be the terms he did not offer to his regular artists. On my return to London, I wrote the blood sucker my thanks for his hospitality and put our business discussions in black and white on paper; so that we both knew where we both stood. I knew the galleries rarely give artists in writing what the terms of business would be. Not to my surprise, I had letter back from the gallery director that he did not think we could do business. I was relieved. It would have been equally difficult for me to work with such a man. But I also understood that Galleries are not interested in the quality of your work, but whether you could create media interest and the gallery could sell and keep big part of your money. Part of my stay in St Louis I also stayed with another artist who was university professor too, married to a fashion conscious woman painter, they lived in decent neighbour suitable to the status of a University professor. In America, status is very important. To keep up with their status the couple did not cook at home; though they had 4 year old son at home. I was told on day one that I had to find my own food; I was thankful for their offer to host me. When I explored their fairly large and clean kitchen; I found a whole shelf was full of books on all different kind of cooking, but no food in the fridge or the cupboards. It seemed like that it was a kind of kitchen that could not contaminated with smelly food, except coffee or occasional bread. The university professor would have his lunch at the university and I never had the chance to discover what the lady of the house did for food. As every morning she was always in her room when I left the house in the mornings. The son was normally up when a small TV in his room came on at 7am controlled with a timing switch. First 3-4 evenings I walked to a near by restaurant to find something to eat. What I also noticed that it was the responsibility of the professor father to give evening meal to their little son. The professor would toast couple of slices of bread, and put some peanut butter on them, as show on the TV commercials and offered the child as his evening meal. As it was the same food every evening; sure the child would not eat the same thing again and again, would cry for half an hour and would go his room and fall sleep. Having brought up in India, where food is always cooked for each meal, I could not live without a home-cooked hot food in the evening. So one day, I decided to buy some wheat flour, few potatoes and some spices and a pot of yogurt. I asked the host if I could use their kitchen for cooking. I had to improvise some simple meal with my limited grocery. I boiled the potatoes, mashed them, added some spices and stuffed the paste in to chapattis, to make stuffed Prathas. Though I was eating every day in different restaurants, but with out the home cooked food I always felt hungry. That evening I was looking forward to my home cooked meal. I cooked three large Prathas, with the idea that if I had left over I would enjoy one for breakfast too. It probably was the first time the 4 years old boy, smelled spicy food in their home, he came running to the kitchen from the far corner of the house, where he was having his daily cry, and quietly sat down on the dining table. I brought the food to the table, as Indian courtesy I could not eat alone while this hungry child was sitting their patiently waiting for some share. I quietly asked him if he would like to try little of my cooking. He nodded yes. From the first Pratha, I offered him half, and I ate half; to my surprise he finished his share before I could; and was eagerly looking for more. Hesitantly I offered him another half Pratha, at the same time I worried about the host lady, who could easily through me out of the house, as I was feeding her son with foreign food. Well the Youngman had finished his second half Pratha drank a big glass of water felt happy and content. He even started to mumble a little song. Before he left for his room, the little boy said to me, that I was a better sculptor than his dad. I asked him why he thought so? He said that his dad made sculptures, no body knew what to do with them, but I made sculptures one could eat and feel content. I thanked the young mind for his compliments. Part II. Few years ago, I had a letter from an arts commissioning agency in UK, if I would like to put forward a proposal for a sculpture for one of the sites, it was considering to place sculptures along a trail in that city. It just happened that this letter arrived just a day before I was leaving for India for a month; so without reading this letter carefully, but I sent a note back that I shall respond its request on my return. On my return when I read this letter, I realized, no doubt the agency had offered to pay for 2 days of my time £500, but the suggested budget for the commission was only £5K. I called the agency back that I could not do anything for that amount, it needed to offer me serious commission. The director asked me to give her a week or so she would come back to me. Few days later I had a phone call from the agency director that she could increase commission budget to £10K. Well I told her I could offer them something but not a substantial piece of work. She asked for another few days. After another week, the budget was increased from £10K to £30K. Then I told her with that was the kind of money, I could give them something back which could stand up as a serious work. Well, we artists do need money to survive in this present day world like everyone else. But I still do not like to subsidize my work for a public space, when commissioning agency/city/company is paying everyone else a decent salary, why can’t an artist expect the same. I also do not like to take more than two commissions in year. The commissioners must pay me enough to live and travel, get inspired for my new work, so that could create something new. Avtarjeet Dhanjal Originally publsihed in 'Universal Colours' Helsinki