by Des Raj Kali

(originally written in Punjabi and Translated into English by Nirupama Dutt

An essay introducing the exhibition of paintings by Mohinder Thukral

The exhibition was organised by Punjab lalit Kala Akademi at its Galleries in Chandigarh from 12th to 19th November 2021

The scars of the past move through the present to make way for the future in the paintings of Mohinder Thukral

The lines of his forehead seethe. The eyes turn red. Blood oozes from his back. It is as though time has pierced the eye of the sun. The daylight is tinted red. He shakes his head as though a snake has stung his leg. A dagger slashes just where the snake had stung. These wounds are unusual and hurt when balm is rubbed on them. It is not necessary that the burden on the shoulder be of rotting human flesh, even the dread of wounds can be a burden that hangs on the back for a lifetime. They stab the back and the dreadful scars weigh it down. The daggers then head for the soul. The soul gathers these wounds of eight decades and places the scars one by one on the canvas. Such is the soul-searching art of painter Mohinder Thukral.

Scar 1: Gian Chand was the name of his grandfather who reared mares. A wrestler and bodybuilder par excellence, he could tame even a wild horse and send it crashing down on the ground. He could throw a horse to the ground catching it by its nape. Theirs was a flourishing Sugar business. The people of Sialkot have a rhythm in their bodies. This rhythm and beat was inherited by Mohinder from his grandfather as well as the art of body-building. The wounds and scars were also his inheritance. The wounds searched him out with passion. The grandfather was known to tap the horse, carry a flask of water and gallop off all the way to Amritsar on business.  The business flourished and he bought many properties not just in his home town but Kapurthala, Gurdaspur, Ropar, Nawansheher and Gadhshankar. Theirs was an affluent family but when the western winds hit them hard, their cries pierced the skies. The great divide of Partition devastated many families. They were stabbed in their backs. These splashes on the canvas are those scars on the back of his grandfather which are oozing blood once more. Why have these wounds come alive now and why is Mohinder shedding the tears he had held back for eight long decades? Listen to the heartbeat of the present times and you will find an answer to these questions. No true artist can remain untouched by the events of the times.  It is the intensity of the feelings that transforms itself into art carrying the burden of the ghosts of the past to chart out a new path for the future.

Scar 2: Mohinder the artist recounts how the raging fire in Sialkot played havoc with their family in the macabre dance of death.  The fire was spreading all around and some were enveloped by the flames while others were uprooted from their homes and hearths. Humanity was dying and death was reigning supreme. Caravans of people fleeing to some unknown oasis of life were being butchered. His father Hans Raj jumped from the third floor of his home onto a mound of corpses below. He was not hurt much but his hip was disjointed and for the rest of his life he dragged it like a dead dream.

Scar: 3 Why are there only portraits in this series of paintings? When Sialkot was burning, Mohinder was just about a year old. Death was hovering over their heads. That was the time of mass suicides by women who jumped into wells to save their honour. Not all could save their honour and hundreds were dishonoured:  Raped over and again, paraded naked in the streets, sold from hand to hand, their breasts chopped off and many butchered. This was not being done by some outsiders who had come from say Kabul. These were known people who had turned beasts overnight.  Mother Suhagwanti and Maternal aunt Somwanti were surrounded by the butchers and to save themselves, they crossed the river and hid behind the bushes to escape the mad mobs. The current of the water was strong and the aunt mounted the little boy on her head.  Whispering to each other in fear lest they be heard, they somehow managed to escape.  The child was unaware of it all and later when the aunt would recount the passage to safety, Mohinder would hear just a dreadful silence. Shadows of death would swim in his eyes even though he had just heard accounts of the times from his mother and aunt.  He had also heard how people of different faiths lived in harmony in undivided Punjab before the wilderness descended. Tales of the lost composite culture still reside in his art. The portraits of people mirror the horror of Partition with finesse and subtlety. The family that was left behind also travels through these paintings. The portraits thus represent the scars of those times which will haunt even the generations to come. The flames of the past still rage in the artist’s soul and find their way into the present.

Scar 4: One portrait is that of a bodybuilder sporting moustaches. Mohinder says that a man is known by his moustaches. Body building was awaiting them even before their arrival. Jallandhar was next only to Amritsar as in its arenas for wrestling. Mahasha Bharat Bhushan alias Aflatoon was the trainer and Mohinder touched his feet and went onto learn the art of keeping fit and ready to face the assaulter. Times changed and the arenas blossomed with young men doing workouts gaining physical and moral strength to face whatever storm that may come. A day came when their trainer decided to move on and divided the arena into four parts and appointed his four best boys to take care of one each. These young men were Sahib Singh, Ram Lal, Swatantra Kumar and Mohinder Thukral.  The Guru had great foresight and was getting them to unite and bring up a generation fit to fight any peril as that was the need of the time for Independent India. Leaving the ghosts of bloodshed and doom behind them they worked together with humanity and togetherness as their first concern. Mohinder recounts that he never forgot the training imparted to him and even his art became a medium to connect to contemporary themes while keeping in mind the heritage of the past. So the paintings are not just a shadow of the past or a mere depiction of the present but also harbingers of the future.  Such is the power and beauty of these creations that come from a palette that has seen life and death at close quarters.  The works of this artist are as transparent as are his heart and soul. Mohinder is an accomplished artist who is rooted in the soil of his times. His paintings have stories to tell and these are best told through portraiture: The portraits of an artist.

Scar 5: The portraits spring from the time of the series of events in the dreadful days of the great divide that happened at the time of Partition. The blood that oozes from the wound in the eye of Mohinder’s portrait becomes the time marker. The scars that come in the name of caste, creed or religion are forever embedded in the human heart and travel through generations. Mohinder’s son has gone to join the farmer’s protest. The father says with conviction that we are the progeny of farmers. Our fathers and grandfathers tilled the soil. How can we stay unaffected, how can Mohinder stay unmoved? How can an artist remain untouched? If one is unaffected by contemporary times, one is not an artist at all?  Every intellectual slowly slides towards suicide. Every intellectual shall die. The worker is a follower of Kabir…he wakes up and weeps…. A tear has fallen somewhere on this painting from Mohinder’s eye. It all seems to be liquefied. The art is flowing. Hear it burble not with the ears, but with the heart. Terror has arisen in my heart. Mohinder takes a child in his arms. This painting is about him, about our daughters and sons. He wants to save them from burning in the fires of the times. His portraits sow the seeds of change. If the future is assigned to the flames, I shall be the first one to be burnt, says the artist. I shall burn in the form of art and shall be reborn like the kukanus or the Phoenix bird that rises from its own ashes.

Translation: Nirupama Dutt