VJ with a zest for life
By Jyoti Mahajan
There is definitely more to this guy than what meets the eye!, A wonderfully deep voice, rings on every finger (and thumb!), sharp, spontaneous , witty, a keen sense of humour, compulsive flirt, an intense conversationalist, a fun-loving guy, extremely opinionated ... these are just a few things that make up his multi-faceted paradoxical personality.

Gachet’s collection of Van Gogh
VINCENT Van Gogh died an unrecognised, penniless artist, a man so mentally tortured that he shot himself to death. But his exuberant brush strokes and brilliant palette transcended his personal despair. And Van Gogh had a great friend who believed in him to the end and, more importantly, collected his works.

Sikh kingdoms, again

True son of the soil
By Ruchika Mohindra

FROM being a small town lad from Gidderbaha to becoming the new-kid-on-the-block with his latest pop album “Yeh Hai Masti”, Ashok “Masti” has come a long way. His latest music video, “Punjabiyan Di Ho Gayi Vah Bayi Vah” is fast scaling the popularity charts and is currently the hot favourite with regular disco-goers.

Ashok “Masti” was in Ludhiana recently to perform live as part of a promotional campaign for his latest music album that was launched by Times Music last month. During a tete-a-tete with this correspondent, Ashok informed that this was his debut live show in the city.

In his deep husky voice, Ashok says this is just the beginning. “I have a long way to go before I begin to count myself as being successful. Music today, especially the Punjabi music, is identified by most people as the catchy ‘balle-balle’ set to foot-tapping beats. Most of the singers have no knowledge of ‘rafiq’, ‘kafia’ and ‘taal’. These things are learnt only if one is well versed with and loves the culture and literature of the land — something lacking in most music artistes of today.”

Ashok regrets that the richness of Punjabi music and culture has not been tapped by the so-called superstars of the Punjabi music world. “The poetry of Bulle Shah, Waaris Shah, Shiv Kumar Batalvi and Surjit Singh Pattar, that forms a part of our cultural ethos, has so far not found many takers with Punjabi singers,” he says.

Ashok idolises Gurdas Mann as he is one from the rare coterie of singers who have done just about the right modulation of folk music and brought it into limelight, with much acclaim.

This budding singer also comes across as a true son of the soil and his love for the land and its people are very much evident in his songs. The lyrics of the songs are such that most people can identify with the finer human emotions depicted in these songs.

Apart from being a good singer, Ashok also pens the lyrics for most of his songs. He has written the lyrics for six of the songs from the album ‘Yeh Hai Masti’. He is also adept at playing a few musical instruments, keyboard being his favourite.

Ashok feels that only regular ‘riyaz’ for sometime each day is what goes on to make a good singer. He has had training in Indian classical music for two years and has been practising regularly for the past 10 years. “I believe that only those singers who have a base in classical music can have an everlasting impact on the minds of the masses. Even though I was trained in classical music and also had the grit and the determination to succeed, it took me 10 years and a not-so-successful first album, before I could lay a claim to success”, he says.

Commenting on the recent trend of vulgarity in the music videos, Ashok says although he disapproves of it, budding artistes like him have no say in the making of the music videos and that it is a part of the game.

While talking of his future plans, Ashok says once he reaches a stage where he gets the approval of the masses, he would move towards composing the poetry of some of the all-time great Punjabi poets into songs. He is also keeping his options open for playback singing offers for Hindi movies.

VJ with a zest for life
By Jyoti Mahajan

There is definitely more to this guy than what meets the eye!, A wonderfully deep voice, rings on every finger (and thumb!), sharp, spontaneous , witty, a keen sense of humour, compulsive flirt, an intense conversationalist, a fun-loving guy, extremely opinionated ... these are just a few things that make up his multi-faceted paradoxical personality.

Yes, I am talking about the famous MTV VJ, Nikhil Chinapa who was recently in Shimla along with former Miss India and VJ Nafisa Joseph in connection with the shooting of the programme “Chill-Out” which was shot at the picturesque environs of Shilon Bagh, Barog and Parwanoo, Having walked this earth a mere 25 years Nikhil says he enjoyed his stay in the hill resort and shooting in the salubrious environment.

Originally hailing from Bangalore, Nikhil began with artistic pursuits since his childhood days. While as a student of St Joseph’s Bangalore, Nikhil was encouraged in his pursuits by his Army officer father. A student of architecture from Bangalore’s BMS College, Nikhil firmly believes that one should take every opportunity that comes one’s way and make the most of it.

Nikhil says his life has been a series of accidents and he was selected as MTV VJ via the nationwide talent hunt for VJ’s and made it to the finals on account of his deep voice and spontaneity one and a half years ago. Prior to his selection as an MTV VJ, Nikhil was simultaneously doing radio, theatre and compering shows. “I started off by hosting a college festival and finally landed up being an MTV VJ”, he states. He really enjoys his job as a VJ which involves a lot of interaction with people and enables him to travel a lot.

Nikhil can be seen on Mondays and Fridays on the request show “MTV Chill-Out”. In the show, Nikhil and VJ Amrita introduce viewers to all the cool places where they can just “chill-out” and have fun. Be it the sea in Bombay or a disco in Delhi or a college canteen in Poona, or a new store in Bangalore, they introduce viewers to all the happening spots. They also extort the close kept secrets of their celebrity guests on how they relax and chill-out.

In “MTV Recycled”, a half-hour show hosted exclusively by Nikhil on Wednesdays, Saturdays and Sundays, he showcases music that passes the test of time. It covers and remixes and takes viewers on a fascinating journey. “MTV True Lies” is a three-minute news bulletin with a difference and gives viewers updates on all happening news with a twist of satire. It is telecast daily by Nikhil and many other VJs. “MTV Request” is an interactive request show, where viewers can call and ask for any one the 50 videos, which are shown on the scroll appearing on the screen.

Nikhil firmly believes in the saying, “You only live life once, but if you live it right, once is enough”. This has led him to try everything at least once, from trekking, white water-rafting (where he nearly drowned!), camping, radio jockeying and now presenting MTV. Having travelled a lot, Nikhil has developed varied interests like music, literature, animals, theatre, sports... just to mention a few.

His love for music started from an early age with Abba and Boney M. Today, Nikhil loves all genres of music, be it disco, heavy metal, rap,hip hop, trance, jaaz... Gifted with an amazing memory, he never forgets a track once he’s heard it.

This love for music and zest for life, convinced him to try his hand at being a radio jockey, the perfect opportunity to do what he loves best and has a natural flair for talk, entertain and relating to people. Then from there it was a natural extension to presenting on MTV.

When asked if he is satisfied being a VJ, pat replies Nikhil: “I am very happy as a VJ as it encourages direct interaction between a VJ and a producer”. He reveals that it is a research-oriented programme through trial and error. MTV India is completely different from MTV Brazil, MTV Europe and MTV Latin America where they play their own special brands of music, have VJs from that region and target the youth audience.

Besides, having you rolling on the floor with laughter, Nikhil also has a more philosophical side to him, which ends up surprising one. He loves to read, and authors like Richard Bach have helped him shape his own philosophy on life. He is of the opinion that people always have choices — they always know the answers, but they just don’t look in the right places.

Nikhil believes in living life NOW and as hard as one can, taking whatever he does seriously. He dreams of having his own radio station one day.

Gachet’s collection of Van Gogh

VINCENT Van Gogh died an unrecognised, penniless artist, a man so mentally tortured that he shot himself to death.

But his exuberant brush strokes and brilliant palette transcended his personal despair. And Van Gogh had a great friend who believed in him to the end and, more importantly, collected his works.

More than 100 paintings, drawings and etchings from the collection of Dr Paul-Ferdinand Gachet, including some by Paul Cezanne, Claude Monet and Pierre-Auguste Renoir, are on view at the metropolitan Museum of Art in New York these days.

When he committed suicide in 1890, Van Gogh’s work “was not appreciated. Most people turned their back on him,” said Susan Alyson Stein, curator of “Cezanne to Van Gogh: The Collection of Doctor Gachet,” which remains at the metropolitan till August.

Even as he battled mental illness, Van Gogh painted with force so much so that he produced a haunting self-portrait now considered a masterpiece.

“It is difficult to know yourself,” Van Gogh wrote to his brother. “But it isn’t easy to paint yourself, either.”

Van Gogh was among the many talented, rising artists, now considered 19th century masters, befriended by Gachet. The exhibit includes remnants left at his home in the tiny village of Auvers: palettes, paint tubes, a Van Gogh sketchbook. A folding palette used by Cezanne is thickly caked with paint in his beloved hues of earthy ochers, blues and a brilliant red, an impromptu canvas frozen in time.

The physician often accepted art as a token of friendship or as payment for his medical services.

In turn, Gachet posed for Van Gogh, an encounter that resulted in the famous “Portrait of Doctor Paul Gachet,” an image of the doctor in his white visor cap that Van Gogh called “a heartbroken expression of our time.”

The Gachet collection includes treasures such as Van Gogh’s “Self-portrait”, “Monet’s Chrysanthemums,” and Cezanne’s “Dr Gachet’s House at Auvers.”

The artworks shared space in an eccentric household also populated by a menagerie, including a dozen cats and four dogs. Their master was dubbed “Dr Saffron” for his own oddity — the practice of dyeing his hair orange.

“After Gachet’s death in 1909, his son, Paul, kept the collection virtually intact in the family house in Auvers-Sur Oise, 20 miles outside Paris, for more than a half century. And when, after years of secrecy, it came to light, the Gachets were suspected of being forgers,” Stein said.

Many of the works were then donated to the French Government, starting in 1949.

The centrepiece of the exhibition are 50 paintings and drawings loaned by the Musee D’Orsay in Paris that had never before crossed the ocean. The remaining works originally owned by Gachet come from the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam, other museums and European and American collections.

Gachet and his son also both painted. Hardly fine artists, they resorted to copying some paintings from their collection.

One work by the elder Gachet has value beyond art: his charcoal portrait of the gaunt Van Gogh on his deathbed is a poignant reflection of the bond between the two men.

The exhibit includes an urgent note from Gachet to Van Gogh’s Brother, Theo, saying Vincent had shot himself and imploring him to come to Auvers. — AP

B.N. Goswamy
Sikh kingdoms, again

IN London, I was in the midst of Sikh splendour once more. The show at Victoria & Albert Museum had all those things that one anticipated seeing: superb paintings that formed the background to the emergence of an art in the Punjab plains; fine illuminated manuscripts of the Guru Granth Sahib; some unpretentious but deeply affecting portraits; great textiles; Maharaja Ranjit Singh’s throne; dazzling jewellery, including the so-called Timur ruby and the emerald belt of Maharaja Sher Singh; European prints of the Punjab; glittering arms and armour.

As one went in and out of exhibition; one could see streams of people, including, prominently, expatriate Indians, coming in, seeing a slice of the past come alive, gazing with wonder and affection at artefacts, taking in the crisply worded panels of information, peering at some objects and stepping back from others, if only to see them better. The floors may look a little bare perhaps, and some areas sparse, but the show, one could see at a glance, had both form and substance, something lucidly reflected in the sumptuously produced book — The Arts of the Sikh Kingdoms — specially written for the occasion, and designed to serve as its catalogue.

As I said, I was anticipating that I will encounter all this, and there was evident satisfaction in the fact that something which one had helped realise in some ways, had come to be, in this fashion and at this high a level. In this visit, however, I was equally interested in seeing for myself how a show such as this was made accessible, easy for people to reach out to. It was not, after all, going to be a simple enterprise: the Sikh’s and then artistic heritage was unlikely to be a big draw for the vast majority of people living in England; the Indian community there is known to be only mildly interested in the arts: the supporters, and potential supporters, of the idea of the show were not all likely to pull in the same direction. There must have been odds.

But the museum seems to have gone about its business methodically, and with imagination. I have no intimate personal knowledge of this, and can only make guesses from the brief snatches of conversation that I have had over the past two years with the curatorial staff, and the brochures that I picked up in London. I know that in the almost three-year-long period of gestation/preparation that preceded the exhibition — contrast this, incidentally, with the hurried events we put together in our own museums at home, all those “instant shows” that the sarkar decides upon sometimes, with sudden caprice — there were discussions with members of the community in England and the U.S.A.

Thoughts were exchanged across the table, an “ideas-bank” generated. Some of these seem then to have taken the form of special events that have been organised with the exhibition as the central piece. Consider the cluster: performances of music and dance apart, scattered throughout the duration of the show are demonstrations of techniques, such as those of phulkari embroidery, miniature painting, damascening; special shows for families are held, including sessions of story-telling, from the Sikh world, handling artefacts from the Sikh faith, especially the five ‘Ks’, learning the tying of turbans, acquainting oneself with calligraphy in Gurmukhi, the making of simple jewellery from wire and beads. Add to this a whole range of gallery talks by the highly competent curatorial staff — including some interpreted for deaf visitors, and for the visually impaired — slide-shows, and special sessions with educators, and one can see not only richness and texture, but also commitment.

The event for which I took the trip to London — a conference on the Arts of the Sikh Kingdoms — had been equally well thought out. Over two days, there were something like 12 presentations. All ceremonies and rituals quickly and efficiently over, one got down to the serious business of exploring aspects of the arts and culture, examining issues that the exhibition and its artefacts threw up.

On the first day, Narinder Kapany presented a visual survey of Sikh art; Patwant Singh focussed upon the current neglect of architectural monuments; I examined the varying approaches to the art of portraiture; Kavita Singh discussed issues raised by murals on Patiala palace walls; Jeevan Deol presented his findings on Sikh illuminated texts.

The day that followed saw other; presentations: Aijazuddin spoke of the relationship of the Fakir brothers with Maharaja Ranjit Singh; Susan Stronge discussed some of the decorative arts of the Sikhs; Melikian-Chirvani analysed the tendency towards revivalism at the courts; Owen Cole raised questions about the colours in Sikhism; Simon Metcalf and Neil Carlton drew attention to silverwork and artillery.

There was, clearly, much earnestness in the proceedings, something that the deeply involved audience immediately picked up, but also a pattern. The pattern concerned not only the fact of the scholars coming from all parts of the world — England, India, Pakistan, the U.S.A., Canada, Iran — but of the range of themes they engaged with.

Architecture and miniature painting and murals and calligraphy were as much addressed as matters relating to statecraft and symbolism and technique. Nothing is ever settled at conferences, and issues remain hanging in the air. But minds can be stimulated. I am certain that those who spoke and those who heard them felt some stirrings.

The lady immigration officer at the London airport, who quizzed me routinely on the purpose of my visit to England, had said, after hearing why I was here: “That sounds exciting.” It was.

Unexpected absence
A little-known but magnificent painting showing the procession of Maharaja Narinder Singh of Patiala, with his state elephant following another on which the Guru Granth Sahib is respectfully placed, was conceived as a show-piece for the exhibition. It appears on the cover of its book; details of it appear also on the inside pages. But the work was nowhere on view in the show. Why? Because its loan was refused at the last minute in India, apparently on the ground that it was needed for a show in the country itself. I would be very interested in knowing if it was indeed shown, and about how many people saw it. I know how many missed it in London.