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ARTS AND CULTURE

Learning how to die

  • 20 April 2010

Sunday afternoon perambulation Khanyana  I stepped out up above the stream on the green grass that grows on top of the steep river bank between shepherded goats and a tethered cow, the afternoon sun following the rain, the water running dark from up in the Himalayas as sweat ran into my eyes. The old man let me into his low laid dry stone walled mill. In the roaring dark driven by the diverted river, the stone mill ground out the flour, the inside stone walls and steps and wall like dusted scones and ghostly from the white powder. He indicated the waiting grain, the bags of produce now soft and dumpy, awaiting delivery on spindly unlikely thin legs, it was pride in his task and handiwork. Up river from the School for Refugees the small mill worked each afternoon, rattling clear above the whooshing river in the deep gorge, ancient tasks to meet the deep hunger of the body and the soul. I stepped out for a coffee where Dilip, [Lt Col. Retd] would make me a brew with his electric grinder in the new coffee house. The sweat dribbled down the valley of my back as I made my ascent from the old to the new, picking my way through the stones of the road and from one era to the next. The dry stone wall up near the bridge displayed the ancient skills as the stones were brought up from the river bed and each placed delicately put in its place and time by the patient crouched stonemasons, whilst their families sat and watched, the women picking their own goat path up from the river bearing their contribution to the growing wall. The chosen men pick and split and lay flat the stones all interlocked like the families. I sat and had a hesitant conversation with Dilip out on the terrace, the army man with the carefully pressed decorum as I dipped biscotti brought in from Delhi and became part of the changes.     AP As a bat makes parabolas in the dusk, arcs and loops the mind cannot harness, but simply wonder at, so too the meanderings of this man's mind. Sometimes his brush will touch the surface, and maybe again, and then some patterns will be caught in tones and shapes for marvelling. Sometimes a confused bird will hit the window and leave a brief wing pattern on the glass, a rare image from nature, one that cannot be replicated easily. So too his canvasses, rare that they are, become images of nature with an ironic twist of form or colouration from the master — for he is no journeyman, this spreader