Craftsmanship

Not only humans are capable of creating things of beauty. Look around you, dear Reader, and you will see that Nature provides us with a zillion possibilities to exhibit our multifarious talents. Consider, for instance, the lilies of the field; consider the words of all the great thinkers—past and present—who have filled us with awe and reverence; consider the immortal works of all the great artists and musicians and their contributions to a universal culture of truth and beauty that the modern world, sadly, seems hell-bent on destroying; also, think of the industrious spider, working on its magical web, inspiring the fugitive Robert, the Bruce, to continue to live and die in the cause of freedom—personal, societal, national and spiritual. And finally, think of the ordinary man and woman, the me and the you, trying to eke out the semblance of a good life in spite of the gargantuan obstacles that we face day in and day out. Then, and only then, when you at last decide to take time off for yourself, will you realize that the creative spark, the innermost cravings of the heart, the voice that needs to find expression, resides in us all, because that is the essential difference between us humans and the rest of the living, breeding, dying world. AI can only do so much; it needs instructions; the input must come from the creator—us. I mean—I, me, myself.

I’ve experimented with words and have found pleasure in them. I’ve used wood extensively, for the expression of my art. Wood is surely good, but there is something special about metal. Steel, for example, is not a natural metal. It has to be forged, incorporating a combination of natural inorganic elements. Similarly, whatever the medium of the artist (and that includes me, too), the base material for his creation has to be, as the novelist said a long time ago, “forged in the smithy of my soul” before it is transformed into “a thing of beauty”, which may become “a joy forever”.

This week I will introduce you to my metal-craft, simple as it usually is.

First, the body-builder. Almost all of us crave the perfect body and we spend a lot of time trying to acquire one. My guy was put together using metal washers of various sizes. I hope I got the proportions okay; he does seem to have a barrel chest and a firm lower body, but you don’t have to take my word for it.

Having a fine physique is something to set your sights on, but few of us have the perseverance or the stickability that will bring in the desired results. Quick fixes don’t work in this area of human endeavor, so alternatives must be found. Over here we do not have the dashing figure of the Wild-West macho man, complete with gun-belt, stirrups, hat and boots, but we try to make do with imitations—my cowboy, named Quick-Gun Murugan, was fashioned out of plastic-coated wire and his guns are actually sawed-off Allen-keys. He does look dapper with his tight-fitting cummerbund, doesn’t he?

If you think Anglo-Indian, then music and dancing and fun are essential. My musicians are certainly not from a rock band, but what they play sounds melodious enough. As the poet said, way back then: “Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter”. My merry group consists of a saxophonist, a flautist and a tabla-master, all of them crafted from thin steel wire and some washers, with a dash of gold paint.

From nature, I chose to make a tortoise, using washers and a few nuts and ball-bearings, but the slowness of my seafarer is due to his ponderous weight. The green and black coloration gives it a touch of time and the ravages that time takes on us all. Closer home, I crafted a pair of scorpions, using a variety of nuts and made their tails conspicuous with red paint. Here in Veteran Lines, especially during the monsoons, many of these creatures can be seen wandering around, lost and lonely. Back in the day, when I was still working, I’d put one of them in a bottle—live, of course—and take it to the Zoology Department in my College, there to be preserved in an appropriate solution. Nowadays, I just bottle them and take them to the bushes adjoining the airport runway, setting them free there, as it should be for all God’s creatures. I do this exercise also with the random snake that wanders into the colony.

Finally, my rose, which is a rose in silver-colored washers, bent into shape. The base is an upturned coaster-holder, found amongst the knick-knacks in my workstation.

To conclude, I want to remind you of a song “Simple man, simple dream” which expresses all these creative impulses in the simplest of terms. Always remember, dear Reader, “keep it simple” and you will never stray far from the simple truths of everyday life. That’s my advice to you as we launch into another year, a year that will bring us to the end of the first quarter of the twenty-first century. Cheers.