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An exciting event
is about to take place. Mohan Samant is holding his “farewell
exhibition” at the Taj Art Gallery. After that he is migrating
to the U.S.
Lest I miss the show I went to Samant's den at Worli. The door
opened. The leather curtain with the myriad bells shook violently.
There was a shower of sounds above my head. The sleepy, dishevelled
head of the artist merged from somewhere. I was ushered into
the studio.
I was face to face with a tree. An unusual tree with unusual
little birds. Birds with wide bosoms and frail light-coloured
feathers. birds resembling women. Birds with quaint expressions...
The canvas with two large figures, a male and a female, appeared
to translate the driving force of primal energy. They are separated
and look in different directions. Yet there is awareness. The
kind which purusa and parkriti have.
There was another canvas in which mysterious gods seemed to
be peering out of the dark. These were strange faces. Could
be the product of hallucination. Or revelation in a moment of
heightened spirituality. These were not earthly faces. They
were vaguely familiar but essentially Unrecognizable. And on
another large canvas there were angels. Not the kind one sees
in childrenŐs books. These were serious creatures suspended
in their own thought process.
I spent some very pleasant moments. Samant kept silent all the
time. When he did open his mouth he told me of the coloured
dreams he had recently.
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