Our Tennyson is gone

Arpana Caur

Arpana Caur recalls her memories with padmashree Keshav Malik Ji and pays homage to the renowned art writer and critic.

Tennyson is what I called Keshav. Tennyson. Though he had the noble profile of Abraham Lincoln too. The Majesty of his erect tall figure, his poetic face. He lived and breathed poetry, his first love. Art and artists were his other love. He would go everywhere, see every exhibition in the most unfussy manner, was everyone’s favorite chief guest, for he was genuinely interested and never in a hurry. I think he lived in a timeless world of poetry, art, and books. Lately, his dear sister Kapila, our genius, Keshav, and my mother developed serious eye issues and frequently compared notes. All three
being bookworms and writers one had to develop ways of coping. While Kapila Ji attended everything (in India International Centre, National Museum etc) and so did Keshav, my mother has sunk into depression due to inability to read like before, and I hold examples of Keshav and Kapila ji to pull her out. When Keshav went, we were in Shimla this June, and I deliberately held back the news from her. He and Usha were fond of traveling to quiet historical places. It was on his suggestion that we visited Jageshwar near Almora,a cluster of 10th century temples, and some other places, we would
often compare notes before and after. While being a true Delhite he loved these short trips to un-spoilt places and never let Delhi spoil him even when he wrote his Times of India art column. When they stopped it, it pained him but then, the whole art writing culture has drastically changed. To celebrate his 90th birthday the whole art community turned up at the Kiran Nadar Museum for he was veryone’s favourite. Thankfully Sangeeta Gupta did a beautiful film on him. Only a month ago he came to inaugurate a young artist’s show at our Academy of Fine Arts and Literature and also went downstairs to the monthly poetry ‘Dialogue’ where he had read his poems many times, promising to read and chair next month. Little one did know that he would silently walk away into the night in his long robes with his book of poems in one hand and his pen in the other leaving behind his dear Usha and Kapila ji and so many like us who loved this quiet man from another timeless time. Goodbye, dear Keshav, be happy and be at peace wherever you are and look upon us with compassion like you always did.