A conspicuous companion

(I wrote this piece as an impressional attempt about a Rajasthani’s face, appearing in a full-page ad in the Times of India sometime in 1990 – to express the feelings I experienced at that point of time. I hope you will find it interesting as a pastime; unfortunately the very ad is no longer with me – in fact the credit goes to my mother in preserving this piece in her beautiful handwriting; otherwise, even this would not have seen the light of this day)


A mood of melancholy oozes out of his transparent grey eyes glimmering dimly against the setting sun. It has lit up a side of his bold imposing countenance. On it the imprint of majesty is unmistakable. Of course it is the only remnant of a glorious past. His distinctive attire - a chequered turban, whiskers spiraling upwards and his beard brushed upwards too away from the middle of his chin along the sideburns would help you single him out from the midst of any admixturous rabble. His stately non-chalance confirms that the days of yore have deserted him. Those days of valour, pride and chivalry, so lofty and sublime yet gorgeous- in the midst of that inhospitable Jaisalmer desert. It was left only for Colonel Todd and Abanindranath Tagore to recount his ancestral anecdotes. On the other hand what does the darker side connote? Does it not insinuate darkness immediately below the lamp? Did not the indomitable Rajput Spirit also unleash the nastiest feudal oppression on a hapless peasantry? Did not their boisterous machismo trample so many Roop Kanwars over as many years? Probable. That is why he is unable to put brave face up to the setting sun


Anyway he is now consigned to a seemingly serene and unobtrusive existence to just one side of my cramped and stuffed room. Indeed in sharp contrast to the wide undulating expanses of his native sandy dunes. He cannot help it. After all, he is just a two dimensional entity courtesy the Times of India. In it he too modeled for a cigarette ad the other day. That was how the introduction went and since then apparently he did not find it difficult to perch himself on to me. As for me, divining the mind and mood of this singular personality has become an absorbing pastime. Strange enough, sometimes I feel myself to be in perfect unison with the ethos that surrounds him. Reclining on the back of my chair, I fight off occasional boredom fathoming the depths of a tradition of several centuries he epitomizes. But enough is enough, I must be stretching the limits of your patience. So let me rest my pen that you may ignite your imagination and activate your brain.


(Typing, formatting & editing – courtesy Ms. Dimple Tyagi; responsibility for errors if any is however mine)