Renu Khanna spends her time knitting, playing board games and reading. Often she opens her little poetry book, in which she has penned several poems over the years in her neat handwriting and recites them. She is as quiet as her husband, artist Krishen Khanna, is garrulous but he listens while she reads. He’s wearing his hearing aid and can hear her even though she is sitting at a distance from his chaise lounge.
I left them, after a light lunch, engrossed in their individual pursuits—Krishen analysing his sketch and Renu egging her daughter on in the game of Scrabble. On my way out, I see a canvas from my favourite 'Rear View' series, in which he painted dusty and tired labourers at the back of a truck, on their weary way home. Opposite it is a small canvas on the Bandwallas theme. Excerpts from a conversation with Krishen, the social realist.
What are your feelings on your 100th birthday?
Krishen Khanna (KK): I am so happy I am still here surrounded by my work and the people I love. I have lived through difficult moments, that could have been fatal. For instance, when I was almost kidnapped by a man in Lahore, when I was about 6 or 7. Or the time Japanese U Boats followed our ship, when I was returning from England in the 1940s.
How are you celebrating your big day?
KK: The family is holding a party for close friends at the Maurya. The hotel reminds me of my gigantic work there, a mural in the lobby, called ‘The Great Procession of Life’. It’s about Indians going about their daily business. But I didn’t have to use a ladder to paint the dome, as Michelangelo did while painting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel (chuckles)! The work was put together, piece by piece, at my studio in Garhi and then brought to the hotel and put up. I consider it one of my finest works.
There is an amusing incident associated with it. Once my good friend, the late M.F. Husain and I were chatting under that dome, when a bunch of foreign tourists turned up. They looked at the ceiling and wondered who the artist was. Someone from the hotel pointed me out and they started approaching us. Husain assumed they were approaching him! I was introduced to them as the painter they were enquiring about and there was an awkward moment. But it passed quickly and Husain joined the conversation.
Tell us something about your marriage with Renu, which recently celebrated its platinum jubilee. [She is the daughter of the renowned educationist and Padma Bhushan awardee, G.C. Chatterjee].
KK: We knew each other’s families. She was a very beautiful girl. Still is. She talks so well, only age has taken its toll now. Her poetry, which I read much later, knocked me down.
When I was young, I had all the pressures of a married man with a young family, but she said ‘Go ahead and do what you have to. Don’t worry about anything else.’ I wanted to paint and she enabled me to chuck up my banking job and dedicate myself to art. Though a clinical psychologist trained in England, she got herself a job as an English teacher at Modern school, Barakhamba Road. It was a huge responsibility. I didn’t ever thank her but am totally thankful for it. Every night I say, ‘shukar hai ki yeh mere saath hai’.
Renu Khanna (RK): It wasn’t a sacrifice. It came naturally. Love and the desire to understand each other played a big part. Even the job, I enjoyed it. I loved English Literature and had a natural feel for poetry. I think it was a gift from God. I also learnt Urdu and appreciated Ghalib.”
For someone who is celebrating the platinum jubilee of her marriage this year, what advice would you give to today’s generation that is slowly negating the institution of marriage?
RK: Hard to say what advice to give them. They are asserting their individuality in aggressive ways.
KK: In case it’s not working out, get a divorce for heaven’s sake, instead of living in different rooms. And get on with life!
Any fear of the end of life Krishen?
I don’t feel any fear. I have been granted 100 years and that is a long enough time. (Quotes Y.B. Yeats): I have prepared my peace/With learned Italian things/And the proud stones of Greece/ Poets imaginings/And memories of love….”
Can you say you’ve had an eventful life?
Absolutely. And apart from my wife, I have to thank my family and friends, for it. Specially my father. He gave me a wonderful education that helped me become independent and also started me off on painting. He was multi-faceted. He taught history, painted, acted on stage and even took a trekking tour to Nanga Parbat.
I must also thank all my beautiful friends, whose friendship cocooned me. Many of them are no longer alive, including my numerous girlfriends, who became friends for life. If things took a romantic turn (in my younger days) and my friends would quip ‘Bhai tu to shaadi karne wala hai’ (you’re going to get married, aren’t you?) I would tell that girl that I wanted her friendship for life, not just a brief, romantic interlude. Except of course in Renu’s case. I married her.
From banker to one of the top artistes of the country…how tough was the journey?
There was never any guarantee that I would be a painter of some consequence, if I hadn’t put effort into it. Even with Renu, I had to fit her into my life. This business of destiny as people say…ye to hona hi tha.. it’s rubbish.
Have you ever been depressed during your days of struggle?
I have never been depressed, but yes, I have been silent on occasions.
Are you still painting?
Still working, but drawing more than painting.
There is such an emphasis today on painting something beautiful. But is art only about making beautiful things? Even in literature and music. Doesn’t a person feel a loss in life? That loss should possess you for a while. And that is the beauty of the work.
When something is commissioned, I honestly don’t know how it will shape up. I don’t promise anything to anyone. Dil chalta hai aur haath chalta hai (the heart and the hand work together). Art is a process of discovery. Only the work will tell you where to go. Nobody else.