|
It is 20 years this year since Sadequain’s death.
He would have been 77. When he died at the age of 57 (of
what can only be called too much living), it was not his
death that was surprising but how he had lived so long,
given the white-hot intensity with which he lived and
painted, wrote and loved. He burned his candle at both
ends, and had there been a third end, he would have burned
it from that end too.
I saw a good deal of him when he moved to Lahore –
a city he really loved and preferred over all others,
except that city of cities, Paris – to paint the
murals that keep reminding us of him and his generous
and fitful spirit. He often signed his letters and dedications
with the prefix ‘Faqir,’ which by temperament
he truly was. He earned millions and gave it all away.
Most of his work was gifted to his friends and, sometimes,
even strangers. I recall his first exhibition in Lahore,
when a bunch of rich women – part of Lahore’s
then small millionaires’ club – showed interest
in buying more than a few. Sadequain was amused. He told
them that to begin with, the paintings were not for sale
and were he to put them on sale, they would not be able
to afford the price. I am sure, had they asked Sadequain
if they could have some or even all, he might have said,
“Take them. They are yours.”
Hundreds of people can claim that they were friends of
Sadequain because he was so accessible. Wherever he was,
whether in his studio, his hotel room, someone’s
home or in a museum painting a mural, the door that led
to that place was always open. You did not need anyone’s
permission to walk in. How much attention you received
depended on his mood and the time he had. Work came first.
Every single day that he was alive, he worked. If he was
not painting, he was writing his quatrains, of which he
produced thousands. He was humble, and yet if a rich man
or a high official tried to throw around his weight or
pull rank, Sadequain made it a point to put him in his
place. Noorul Hassan Jaffrey, a senior Civil Service of
Pakistan (CSP) officer, who later, along with his wife,
the poet Ada Jaffrey, became close friends of Sadequain,
once went on an official visit to Mangla, where Sadequain
was painting his giant powerhouse mural. Jaffrey was one
of the big tops in the Water and Power Development Authority
(WAPDA). Sadequain was told to be ready for Jaffrey’s
arrival. When Jaffrey arrived, Sadequain was nowhere to
be found. He had simply vanished. He reappeared after
Jaffrey was safely gone. That was Sadequain’s ego,
but it only came into play when someone tried to gain
his attention because of rank or money. One of Sadequain’s
closest and most affectionate friends was Mohammad Ishaq
(Issac to his pals). His home in Muhammad Ali Society,
Karachi, was a virtual Sadequain museum. Most of those
paintings, including a superb portrait of Ishaq, are now
in the extensive private collection of Hamid Haroon in
Karachi.
In an interview, Javed Siddique, of Hurmat, asked Sadequain
after his return from India – where he painted several
murals and where Indira Gandhi received him – if
he had unfulfilled ambitions. After reciting from his
favorite poet, Ghalib, Sadequain said, “There is
no desire or aspiration of mine that has not been fulfilled,
one reason being that I have never desired anything that
lay outside my reach. There were also many things that
I thought were outside my reach, but fate placed them
in my hands. I have no complaint about lack of appreciation.
It is my belief that when nature confers a certain gift
on a human being, it also provides outlets for that gift
to become manifest and known. That is the essence of my
life’s experience . . . I chose to create art and
put all the talent I had in the service of that art. My
calligraphic work runs into miles, and my paintings into
square acres. It is my faith that talent is God’s
gift and it is the duty of the person on whom that gift
is conferred to put it in the service of others. This
is the highest form of worship. To fail to do that amounts
to betraying the trust that the deity above has placed
in you.”
On August 10, the Sadequain Foundation which his nephew
Salman Ahmad, son of his beloved brother Syed Kazeman
Ahmad Naqvi, Theo to Sadequain’s Vincent, set up
in San Diego, California, organized an exhibition of the
painter’s work, including several original calligraphies
and many paintings and drawings, at the Embassy of Pakistan
here in Washington. In addition, there were digitally
enhanced hand painted reproductions on display. Salman
said the Foundation is dedicated to the discovery, preservation
and promotion of Sadequain’s work. Well, good luck
to him, but it was sad to learn from him that Galerie
Sadequain at Frere Hall, Karachi, which was the painter’s
gift to the city and the people of Karachi, has closed
down. This is a subject for ‘Mr. Justice,’
Ardeshir Cowasjee, to write on.
Sadequain, once asked if he should be called an “Islamic
painter” because of his calligraphy, replied, “I
do not agree with that. My real art is to paint pictures,
my calligraphy is marginal to that.” When asked
why despite being a great calligraphist, he did not lead
his life according to the “teachings of Islam,”
Sadequain replied, “If to live like a gentleman
is Islam, then there can be no greater Muslim than me.
If those who are locked up in their backrooms from whose
privacy they judge others, then there is nothing I can
do. I am beyond that sort of thing.”
When Sadequain went to India, the Indian government arranged
for him to be taken to Amroha, his birthplace and hometown.
The whole city had turned out to receive him. He was taken
out in a procession, riding an elephant. Then the keys
to his house of birth were handed to him as a gift, on
the orders of Prime Minister Indira Gandhi. Sadequain,
much moved, returned the keys, saying, “I live in
Pakistan, where I am honored in every way. In any case,
a house is for the mistress of that house. I have none,
so I present this house to the people of Amroha, and I
hope they will set up a library here.”
There are hundreds of Sadequain stories, but the one
recounted by journalist Nasrullah Khan Aziz is characteristic.
One day in Karachi, a man came up to Sadequain and said
that he had a family to feed but nothing to feed it with.
The only thing he knew was how to drive a rickshaw. Sadequain
gave him 15 thousand rupees to buy a rickshaw, as long
as he agreed to take him wherever he wanted to go. That
arrangement lasted for some time, but one day, Sadequain
said to him, “You are free. You don’t have
to drive me around anymore.” |
