 at a workshop by artist John Baby (left) at the art room of the Kochi-Muziris Biennale in December.jpg.image.160.84.jpg)
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Yusuf ArakkalYusuf Arakkal does not shy away from projecting a vivid imagery of a 16-year-old who sets off to Bangalore with just Rs 30.
His lineage can be traced to the royal family of Arakkal. His grandfather was an Amsha Adhikari of Chavakkad. When he set out to the streets of Bangalore, snapping ties with that illustrious lineage, Yusuf had a dream to realise—to become an artist.
While spending his nights in the shelter of railway platform along with hapless folk who had to beg to survive, Yusuf was giving colours to his dreams. Years later, the paintings of the Chavakkad lad, who had just Rs 30 in his kitty when he stepped out of the comfortable cocoon of his roots to Bangalore, would be gobbled up by art aficionados for as much as Rs 45 lakh. Then came the National Award at the age of 37, followed by honours from across the globe including various Biennales.
Yusuf Arakkal opens up to Onmanorama at his residence which itself resembles a beautiful painting. On the shelves adorn numerous paintings collected from artists in Bangalore. Excerpts:
Though you appear to be of a happy disposition, your paintings have a lot of dark shades.
My father died when I was just six-and-a-half years of age. He was in the Army. He married my mother when he came back after the World War II. Mother was from the Arakkal family. She was shattered when she came to know about the death of my father. She was bed-ridden after the tragedy. And, after six months she too died. I was alone.
I used to draw even in those days. My mind told me that I need to get away from the place to achieve something. I knew that my elder brother, who was born out of my father's first wedding, was at Bangalore. One day I decided that I will also go to Bangalore. I wasn't able to trace my brother in the city. My life was in the street after that. Is it not natural to have dark shades in the pictures drawn by a person who was unable to have three meals a day and going through all the pains of a nomadic life on the streets?
You may have found a variety of faces on the streets?
That street life of one-and-a-half years is the greatest university I attended. Bangalore can get extremely cold. On a night somebody stole my woollen cloth. Without knowing what to do next, I coiled myself to a corner. It was bitingly cold. When I fell asleep, I moved near to the blanket of the person lying near me. He let me share a portion of his blanket. In the morning I looked at his face with thankfulness. He smiled at me. He was a leper. I have never seen a better smile than that in my entire life.
How did your life change for the better?
When I was wandering through Bangalore without any money, I had thought many times about returning to Kerala. But I took the decision that I will return only after becoming an artist. The job I got at a factory was a big relief.
One day I had a visitor there. He was a sort of an uncle to me. He tracked me down with the clues given to him by a Tamilian, who was my colleague. He was the General Manager at HAL. He took me to his home. There I saw for the first time, Sarah, the girl who was going to be my wife. Sarah was just nine years of age then. Sarah's mother was a Tamil Christian. She took care of me like a son. They helped me too get a job at HAL. I then joined Karnataka Chitrakala Parishat as a student.
Yusuf Arakal became the centre of attention when he won the National Award at the age of 37?
We were facing a number of issues at that time. My father-in-law had retired. We had to shift a small quarters. I had to paint sitting in a very small room. My son, Shibu, was growing up. Sarah was also working at an advertising agency. One day, when I was returning after the day's work, a girl from a neighbour's home ran towards me with a telegram in her hand. It was the notification that I had won the National Award.
When Sarah returned home after work, I conveyed to her this glad news. Her reply was whether I had got the salary. It was the first day of a month.
I quit my job, with the confidence brought by the National Award. I had to pay more attention to my painting. I rented out a big house. The first floor was turned into a studio. That decision was another breakthrough of my life.
When did your love affair with Sarah begin?
I liked Sarah. Sarah's family was also in favour of the relationship. But, Sarah categorically said that she will not marry me. "If you don't marry me, I'll remain a bachelor. I will also move away from this place," I told her. After two days, Sarah agreed for the marriage. My life acquired maturity and control with the wedding.
Who is the painter you respect most?
Michelangelo and Pablo Picasso. Michelangelo was the greatest artist about whom I first read in my life. That article appeared in the Manorama Weekly. Years later, when I delivered a speech at the Florence Biennale, after receiving a prize, I told the audience that I had read an article. It was about an artist who inspired me the most. And that I was extremely happy to receive a prize at the land of that artist.
I have visited the museum of Piccaso. There were 655 works there. There I felt that if Piccaso was not born, the world would have seen 10,000 great painters. Piccaso had done everything an artist could have done.
How did your friendship with M.F. Husain begin?
I made acquaintance with Husain in 1969. I had joined an institute in Bangalore to learn painting. Husain did a demo there. I drew a sketch of Husain. He was preparing for a visit to Kerala. When he learnt that I was from Kerala, he told me, "I want to go to a village. I should see sea and lake from there". I told him I am coming from such a village...' I also joined Husain in that journey. He stayed at a house in Chavakkad for some days. Our ties began in those days. He was a like a father for me.
But there is no trace of Husain's influence in your works. How can it be so?
I was adamant that my paintings should be free of any influence. When I passed out from the Chitrakala Parishat, I had won a scholarship from Santiniketan, Kolkata for a two-year PG course there. There were great artists at Santiniketan. I decided not to attend the course. Because I will be influenced by the styles of these great artists. I will be returning as a 'packet' from Santiniketan. I was a bit sad at that time for letting that opportunity go. But later, I felt that it was the right decision.
Which of your painting you want to get back?
I would like to get back some paintings in the series I did on Vaikom Muhammad Basheer. He was my childhood hero. To meet him in person was my greatest dream ever. The meeting took place just two years before his death. When I reached his home, he surprised me with his question, 'artist lad, from Bangalore. Won National Award in '83, international prize in '86....am I right? He was quoting my biodata back to me. I spent four hours with him. I took some photographs too. At that time itself I wanted to do some portraits of Basheer.
There were a total of 11 works. Those pictures were bought by an architect saying that it was for his personal collection. When his business collapsed, he sold those paintings to somebody. Nobody knows where they are now. Nowadays, I don't sell some of my dearest paintings.
Yusuf Arakkal with his art works.Among your works, which one gave you the biggest satisfaction?
Usually, in 10 minutes after completing the work I feel that a portion of it has not come out well. But after two hours, the feeling will be that there is no need to rethink about it at all.
Sarah is a die hard fan of Mother Teresa. She had always egged me on to do a painting of the Mother. One day, when I was walking along the Brigade road, a newspaper vendor was holding a 'Sunday' magazine. It had a pleasant picture of the Mother. At 4 pm, I returned back home on my 'Bullet' with the magazine. There was a canvas at home. I had in my mind a painting with a photographic effect. I started to draw. The power supply was cut at 7 pm. Sara came and lit a candle. The picture was completed in that light. That painting is still a favourite of mine.
How did your son became a photographer instead of a painter?
M.F. Husain's son Sonad is a close friend of mine. I am a witness to the pain to which he was subjected by some Delhi artists when he won the National Award, by passing remarks that hinted that it was his illustrious father's name that fteched him the award. Pained by this, Shamnad drank a lot on that day. I was afraid when I saw this. If my son becomes a painter, will he not have the same fate?
My son won a prize in an intercollegiate photography contest in his college days. When I saw those photographs, I knew his calling was in that art. He set out alone for a European trip at the age of 19. He came back with some very good photos. Later on, his attention turned to fashion photography. He does more art photography nowadays. His son is also interested in drawing.
Apart from painting, what are the things you are interested in?
I'm still a football lover. At the Chavakkad High School, I was known for two things — painting and goal keeping. I was nicknamed as Thankaraj at the school, in memory of Olympian Thankaraj. Later on, HAL and ITI was locked in a close football contest. I was the goalkeeper. We were leading by one goal. When there was just three minutes for the final whistle, an ITI striker, a Sardarji, hit with force on my hand. When that match ended, I told my team members that I will hang up my boots. I need these hands. I have to become an artist
To become an artist, I have abstained from various practices, at different times. There was a time I used to booze heavily. Some famous artists did not reach their full potential because of their drinking. If your health is not good, you will not be able to do anything. I have never taken my brush when I was drunk.
Is Kerala a good market for the artist?
A Keralite will build a bathroom for Rs 50 lakh. But will not buy a painting for Rs 5 lakh to hang on the wall. One of the major issues in India is the absence of good art ciritics. Robert Hughes is an internationally renowned art critic. Even little kids can follow him. But nobody understands what our art critics write. They may be doing it deliberately. If people understand what they write, will they not raise doubts?
You don't have the figure or mannerisms of a stereotypical artist?
I like to dress well right from my younger days. I went to give a talk at Santiniketan wearing a blue Saint Motis suit, which I bought from Paris. Some people looked at me curiously. In my speech I asked whether they thought a real artist should wear an old jubba or pyjamas? If so, those who live under the Howra bridge have to be artists. An artist need not project his physical image. His work has to speak for him.
There are beliefs that an artist may have many love affairs. I am hardly short of love affairs. Some of them help the art. Most of them destruct art. It will depend on whom we love. One thing is certain, ultimately we will be left only with what we achieve in art.
On Jesus and Sree Krishna
It was my grandmother who told me about Sree Krishna and Jesus in my childhood. She used to light a nilavilakku in front of our house. The closest friends of my father were Rappai Mappila, one Menon and Chacko. They will visit our home every day. I still can recollect the scene when Rappai Mappila cried bitterly when he came to know about the death of my father. I grew up in such a social environment. Moreover, Chavakkad and Guruvayoor are nearby places.
For years I had in my mind a series of paintings on Jesus and Krishna. I went to Israel many times. For one of my works on Jesus, actor Babu Antony was the model. Now, I have to start the work on Sree Krishna. If I have the blessings of Guruvayoorappan, I will succeed in doing it.
A copper sculpture car
Art collector Harish Padmanabha came to Yusuf Arakkal's home and bought a painting and two sculptures. To share the happiness, both went to the city on Harish's 1952 model Fiat car. When Harish said 'I am going to remodel this car,' Yusuf asked 'would you like to sell it to me?'
Yusuf got the car in return of the painting and sculpture. It had no issues for 25 years. Later on, Yusuf Arakkal turned it into a beautiful brass sculpture.
That rare car is still kept at the art gallery in the name of his wife Sarah.
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