IN CONVERSATION
Artistic voice of dissent
H. BALAKRISHNAN
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Writer and artist Prafulla Mohanti on his life, art, and his heart that still lives in the village.
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I started drawing and painting, mainly to pass my loneliness. One day, I thought of selling some of them since the money would help.
Spirited responses: Prafulla Mohanti. Photo: H. Balakrishnan
THIRTY-THREE years ago, when My Village, My Life was published in London, the literary world woke up to life in a small village in Orissa. Striking sketches of life added spice to this eminently readable book.
A year later, my neighbour in Berhampur showed me some books meant for the University library. A small Corgi paperback caught my eye, and I picked it up. That's when I too woke up to this author, of whom I had never heard. I never thought that I would be able to meet him since he had settled down in London since 1960. Or, so I thought.
Chance and circumstances brought us together a couple of months ago. I chanced upon Prafulla at an INTACH seminar in Bhubaneswar on January 27. He was the last speaker and spoke emotionally about the disappearance of the village in India. He talked about the proposed railway track that threatened to cut his village Nanpur into two — a village that was already bisected by a highway for the sake of "development". After a brief meeting during lunch, he said we should meet again.
The first time we were to meet for the interview in March, he was held up by a PIL in the Cuttack High Court where his villagers objected to the proposed rail line cutting through the village. When we met a couple of weeks later, the "soon-to-be-70" artist-writer-architect spoke at length on his life and times in India and England, his art, and his heart that still lives in the village.
Early days
Prafulla studied architecture at the JJ School of Art, Bombay, and decided to go to London "since in those days, anything foreign was considered superior. Many of our professors were British, or had British qualifications. Even excellent teachers with Indian qualifications were not considered good enough. Even potatoes and tomatoes were called Vilayati Aloo and Vilayati Baigan in my native Oriya!"
Prafulla fondly remembers his first impressions of London. "July 19, 1960, was a beautiful, sunny day with a clear blue sky. The Immigration Officer said to me upon landing "I hope you would be as happy in my country as I was in yours". Friendly words of welcome and smiling people greeted me everywhere."
Soon, he applied for a job with Frederic Gibbert, whose book was prescribed at JJ. The partner asked if he had any experience in England. "If I go to different offices here, and everyone asks me this, how can I get any experience here unless I get my first job somewhere here?" was his logical counter. He got the job.
"My first job was to design the lavatories of the London Airport. After designing the first set of lavatories, I was asked to design another. Then I thought, `My God! At this rate, I'll have to spend the rest of my life designing lavatories', and left the job," he recalls.
Prafulla found the British mind inscrutable. He missed the concept of Athithya that is inherent in Indian culture. Whenever he wanted to meet someone, he was asked to telephone first. When he telephoned, they would have forgotten who he was! When colleagues asked him if they could call him Paul, he said no. "If I take the trouble of pronouncing your name as Tom, Derek or David, you should also take the trouble of learning to pronounce my name as Prafulla. Otherwise, we cannot be friends," was his spirited response.
Prafulla switched to town planning and went to Leeds, which was the only place where he could get a degree. "Leeds was then dark, dingy and grey. The room where I lived was gloomy. That is where I missed my village that was so beautiful. I longed for my culture and felt lonely. I have written about all this in Through Brown Eyes," he recalls.
Artistic beginnings
The art of Prafulla came to public light at Leeds. Here is how: "When I was in Leeds, I was supporting myself for the full-time course. I started drawing and painting, mainly to pass my loneliness. One day, I thought of selling some of them since the money would help. My first solo exhibition was at the Leeds University in 1964. The critics said nice things; professors bought some, as did the University. The Art Critic of Daily Telegraph happened to be in town, and came for a few minutes. He wrote two lines saying how much he enjoyed my exhibition. That really brought my paintings to the attention of directors of art galleries, the media and people elsewhere. I got invited to places, people bought my paintings and I held other exhibitions"
Prafulla has been a leading voice of the minorities in the Western World. "Physically the world is segmented and fragmented. But spiritually, it can be one. But right now, it is not, though at the Internet the world has become one. But physically, it is only for those who have power and money."
He feels the voice of dissent is heard more and louder these days. "My Through Brown Eyes published in 1985 was the first book by an Indian on the life of an Indian, on how (it feels) to be an Indian in Britain. Others didn't have the courage, not even Salman Rushdie. It was the first book of its kind. That protest is now growing. To be Brown or Black in Britain is not easy".
Prafulla Mohanti considers the Buddha and Gandhi as the greatest influences in his life. As a young boy, he used to imagine himself as a monk, going from house to house with a bowl for food and laughs at that "romantic" notion. His native Nanpur is in the midst of a veritable treasure-trove of ancient Buddhist artefacts. But ask him about the happiest day in his life and he has no hesitation in mentioning that day in 1949 when Prafulla Mohanti found his name in the newspapers as one of the 22 boys and girls of Orissa to have come out with a first-class. "A 13-year old boy from a small, remote village in Orissa," as he recalls with a smile.
E-mail: fabalas02@yahoo.com
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