The art of Art
If there’s something my family has taught me well, then it is to appreciate and try to learn Art. Any form of it. Music, nature, books, dance, museums, painting, doodling, calligraphy— I have always been a fan.
In the case of music, books, fun, doodles and dance, my uncle was the messiah. His love for these things always caught me off guard. His guitar, the pseudo disco lights, blasting Rock music. He was the perfect DJ. I still cannot beat his salsa or jazz moves. He’s that good at it. He is also the reason I collected books. What I didn’t know was how much possessive I would turn towards them. I never shared mine with anyone except some close ones (4 people including him). That’s why people who gift me books hold a special place in my life. It feels like they know a part of me which I don’t understand well.
The coin collection I proudly own and flaunt today was something my Nanu passed on to me. Yes, collecting coins is also Art. You appreciate the beauty of the rusted, old coins which have been through so much. They have seen the history more than you can understand. There is so much finesse in each coin, calling it ordinary is foolishness.
I’ve lost count on how many times I’ve visited the museum. This was before I knew how cameras worked. The silence is still attractive and addictive. Hearing your own echo. I remember when I was old enough to be called an adult, I voiced up out of habit. The weird looks everyone gave, didn’t even give flying fucks.
I love Mumbai. As much as I crib about living here for too long, it will still be my favourite. Those sneak-outs and long walks in Navy Nagar, the early morning brun-pav shopping, the sea at Jawahar, INWTC. The Oyster Rock view, something a sailor can never forget. The countless sunrises and sunsets, the ground, the cemented ship, Gupta uncle’s shop and his ice-creams, INS Kunjali, INS Shikra, INS Angre, teasing the Kendriya Vidyalaya children, the Pilot Bunder rush. The most beautiful hospital I’ve ever seen — INHS Asvini. The Naval canteen. The Seth Jeejeebhoy Agiary. Something I adored as a child and then saw two couples getting married (read: dying) there. The shopping at Causeway, going to Leopold and staring at firangees. Gokuls. Endless nuisance at Marine Drive, Nariman Point, Bandstand, Juhu and Girgaon Chowpatty. The Lalbaugh craze which worn off too soon. The Gateway of India and Taj Hotel adoration. The Ambassador curiosity. Fountain’s Apple juice. The old buildings. Goldeval scenes. The money saved to enjoy breakfast at Cafe Mondegar. The driving and parking skills I learned. The Parsi bakeries and their “Deekri, tu toh mane bhooli gayi.” The Kalaghoda fests. The Bombay Gymkhana drooling. This city has made me fearless, ambitious and peaceful. It has given me memories to cherish forever. If a city like this isn’t Art then I don’t know what is.
As I see it, Science is also an Art, just a practical and tangible one. The only Art humans can fortunately understand and improve (vastly) upon. This, I picked up from my friends. Those geeky and nerdy ones. I think I was discussing matter-antimatter collision after I had finished reading Angels and Demons. My friend agreed to show me the same live. Obviously on a very small scale. But that was probably my eureka moment for looking at Science as Art.
As much as I appreciate Art, I fail to understand it. I always feel there is a deeper meaning to it. And the more I dig, the more I slip into it. And, the more it feels like an endless tunnel. So, I eventually give up and be happy that I at least get to see, experience and appreciate it. I think at the end, with Art, that’s what matters.
