THE HIMALAYAN INSPIRATION

(Line drawings by the author)

R. N. PASRICHA

I TOOK to painting 34 years ago, and did out-of-door landscapes in Delhi and suburbs. Delhi was then a small town as compared to now, and one could cycle into the countryside, woods or a Ion© riverside within half-an-hour. Two years later I thought of a change. Mussoorie, a hill station, had been a mountain of my dreams ever since I read an Urdu poem in my school days. Mussoorie had a cool and crisp atmosphere, dense forests of tall conifers, deep cloud-filled valleys; and walks on bridle paths were fragrantly enchanting. But sketching these aspects was no joke. The tall trees were too tall, the valleys too deep, the panorama too wide and the movement of clouds too fast. These aspects bewildered. They were challenging and I had not yet developed the skills to face those challenges. One fine morning a view of the snow-clad Himalaya left me spellbound. There was magnetism in them that captivated the mind.

Autumn in Srinagar is extremely colourful. The sky is deep blue and the chinar leaves turn rust. They float in the air. They drop on the ground in heaps. There was intensity that inspired colours into my paintings.

It was from Srinagar that I had my first contact with the high Himalaya. From Pahalgam I went to Amarnath cave. I cannot forget the two evenings I spent at Sheshnag lake. The cold wind was benumbing. The snow-clad peaks, turned pink by the rays of the setting sun, reflected faithfully in the deep green water of the lake. The silence was deep and penetrating.

Those days roads had not encroached upon the mountains and their tranquillity had not been disturbed. The middle Himalaya still had their primitive grandeur and the hill people were shy and Godfearing. Journeys were difficult. They had to be walked completely. That deterred most. The idea of a pilgrimage to Kedarnath, Badrinath, Hem Kund and the Valley of Flowers was floated by friends but they themselves dropped out one by one. Alone, I set out on a visit to those shrines tucked in the shadows of the high Himalaya. Eating simple meals cooked by my porter, drinking cool water from springs, and staying in makeshift shelters, proved an exercise in austere living. The company of pilgrims of all shades brought me out of my shell of self-consciousness. They were old and infirm yet faith gave them will and courage. The village people, in spite of their haggard looks, were clean of mind; they would sing off their tiredness after a day's walk.

Festival of the goddess of Kothi- Kinnaur.

Kalang (Black Peak)

My journey to Ladakh in 1959, when there were no roads, was a unique experience. We travelled in a caravan like the traders of yore. In the desert of Ladakh situated at 12,000 ft, in the rarified atmosphere, we faced severe heat during the day, strong dust-raising winds in the afternoon, and freezing cold at night. When after a whole day's march we entered our tents, we prayed to God to wake us alive and to give us courage to stand the rigours of the journey in that merciless desert once again. But then we were amply compensated by the stark beauty of nature and the sight of some of the finest creations of man on earth. Those magnificent monasteries, the manifestations of the faith of the followers of Buddha, housed precious treasures of wall-paintings, scrolls, bronze idols and scriptures. Our joy knew no bounds when at last we saw the Leh Fort and town.

Leh Bazar

Sketching Himalayan people poses psychological problems. They are simple, God-fearing and contented, despite material poverty and dirty ways of living. But they are respectable. They have their faiths and beliefs. They live a natural life unpolluted by our sophistications. Their faiths and beliefs must be respected. The ease and cunning of a telephoto lens can surpass and overcome these situations. But an artist must establish a link of goodwill. Then alone can he raise his creations to be more than mere likenesses. It is always easy to strike a friendship with children, and children are good catalysts of friendship between you and their parents. They help to break the barriers between strangers. Once this happens, you find the suspicious crowd around you to be a good-humoured, fun-loving assembly who are not only willing to convince your model to pose for you but admire each line of your pencil as it builds up the likenesses. The Himalayan people are as important as the peaks, each! line on whose faces has been chiselled by the weather and winds.

To be at 16,000 ft, amidst snow, and paint the sunrise — only crazi- ness will prompt you to wield your brush, while you feel short of breath and freezing and your fingers get numb. It has happened with me year after year. Yet the charm of the snows is overwhelming. The ruggedness of forms, the purity of Himalayan colours, the silences, the winds and voids inspire emotions that compel me to paint.

24. Nanda Devi East (left) and Nanda Devi. Route of Czechoslovak ascrnt by NE buttress.
Note 9 Photo: R. Josef

25. View from Camp 3 on the NE buttress route on Nanda Devi, looking northeast to east. From left to right: Deo damla, Bamchu and Sakram (foreground, on North Sanctuary wall), Nital Thaur, Kalgang Dhura, Kalabaland Dhura and Chiring We (background horizon).
Note 9 Photo: O.
Srovnal

A SPITIAN LADY

Landscape painting is a great fun. The compant of nature is invigorating. Nature delights. But paintings mountains is so fun. The vastness of panorama, the heights of mountains, the depths of valleys, movement of clouds and the brilliance of light bewilder. One has to be patient, slowly and surely, these very aspects come under control. Nature itself guides with the affection of a teacher. Then lines flow freely. Forms and shapes fit into right places and colours convey the ethereal.My paintings are my hymns in praise of the Himalaya. They are my prayers to the Almighty.

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