BackThe accidental artiste
There can be no predicting who could be consumed by the desire to create art
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When Joseph Beuys, acclaimed installation artist and art thinker, famously said, “Everyone is an artist", he probably meant that creativity should not be considered the exclusive realm and constituency of artists alone. Although Beuys’ statement is loaded with subtle and complex nuances, his primary argument suggests there can be no predicting who could be consumed by the desire to create art. Over several decades of travelling the length and breadth of the country for performances, I have had many wonderful encounters with people from all walks of life, whose passion for the arts never fails to surprise, inspire and humble me.
There have been hotel attendants who have slipped reams of handwritten poems and songs under the door of my hotel room at night, with a request to record them. There have been waiters at pizza joints who have first smilingly brought my selection from the menu to my table, and then requested that I listen to them singing. These are not just ordinary folks chasing a distant but transformative dream of stardom, but people driven and compelled to make music or write song lyrics despite the daily grind of making a living.
Of these many artistes-in-the-shadows with whom I have had the pleasure of interacting, I recently made the acquaintance of one Yogendra Kumar “Yogi". A thin, slight man with a reedy high-pitched voice whose accent instantly anchors him in the Uttar Pradesh heartland, Yogendra makes his living as a nursing attendant for the ill and infirm. A nursing bureau finds placement opportunities for him, and that is how he came to our home some months ago, to attend to my father-in-law, who has been bedridden for over two years after injury robbed him of his mobility. He reports for work at 8am, and often hums to himself or scribbles away diligently in a register with ruled pages. As we chatted with him some days ago, he disclosed that he writes songs in Bhojpuri and Hindi and came to Mumbai around eight-nine years ago in the hope of becoming a lyricist. Since, in the words of American writer Erica Jong, the muse cannot be “summoned" but “alights when it damn well pleases her", he remains prepared at all times to scribble down his thoughts and verses in a register he carries to work. Later, he diligently copies them in a master notebook which he takes to the Film Writers Association, Mumbai, at regular intervals.
A member of that association, Kumar ensures that each of his songs is registered meticulously and the master notebook duly stamped with an entry stating the date of registration. I am humbled as I realize that armed as I am with my limited-edition Moleskine notebooks and massive fountain pen collection, I have neither been as organized nor as meticulous, hurtling from composing one track to the other, often without documenting, noting, recording or registering any.
Kumar is from the Deoria district of Uttar Pradesh, about 50km from Gorakhpur, but moved to Lucknow and found employment with a state government official serving in the education department. He was encouraged by his boss and the latter’s spouse to learn how to draw, but he preferred to write poetry. Later, the couple suggested he move to Mumbai to find more lucrative employment, as well as opportunities for his talent to be discovered. Having migrated to Mumbai, Kumar worked in what he calls the “ship line" and “furniture line" for several years. About two-three years ago, he started work with the nursing bureau in the hope of bettering his condition, and connecting with someone who could help him get closer to his dream. He considers the challenging and demanding job of being a nurse “samaaj seva", an opportunity to serve society.
As I read through two of his master notebooks, I discovered his favourite themes. There are prayers to the devi or goddess, Shiva and Sai Baba; there are love songs, some a trifle raunchy, and occasionally, some hard-hitting observations about society and politicians. For example, Song No.50 in his notebook says:
Ek masiha o thhey rakhe desh ke maan ko (Once there was a messiah who preserved the honour of the nation)
Aaj ke masiha lootey apne Hindustan ko (Today’s messiah robs his own country)
Well, if today’s jet-setting yogis can actively campaign in roadshows for political parties, there’s no reason why this humble “yogi" should not deliver his verdict through Song No.50.
This is the first in a series on ordinary people with a passion for the arts.
Also Read | Shubha’s previous Lounge columns
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