Following up on my column on Sadequain last week, I believe that it is most appropriate if I quote the artist’s words: “The continuous speech of mine on Art, that irons out all the intricacies of shapes; I don’t know which side of the picture is up; about the picture however, I make a very convincing speech!”

These verses by Sadequain, a calligrapher and a poet, appear in a book written by me. These have been translated into English for the consumption of a wider readership. Though he was better known as a painter, Sadequain proved equally skillful in composing verses that do not seem extempore. He once said that it was poetry that he had expressed poetry through his paintings.

He spontaneously penned his verses in his distinct calligraphy style. His diwaan (anthology) is scattered in several volumes, big and small. One such collection has the word Daroon-i-Khana for the contents page which I can claim to have improved into Andar Khaatay.

The book begins with the announcement that Sadequain has come to the realm of Khayyam as a vagabond. He worked incessantly and tirelessly to gain fame and stature. To quote him:

“Wide awake I am all night, such has been ordained of my love;

Did I ever sleep you away? Speak, O, past nights of my youth!”

Seeing the enormous body of work in paintings and sketches he produced in his lifetime, one tends to trust what he claims. And, to think that more of his work is being produced posthumously.

Let me first make it clear that Sadequain never attempted sculpture. A love for the cacti was instilled in him during his time spent in Balochistan in the company of another artist, namely Sultan. While he extensively used this as a symbol of the harsh realities of life, he had an alibi:

“What are you up to?

Don’t touch the cactus,

Yes, you can sit here but don’t touch the cactus;

These thorns are only for self-defence,

Albeit in the desert, don’t touch the cactus.”

Sadequain volunteered to suffer himself instead of seeing others in trying situations:

“The features that were, I made them look wretched,

And then I made weird hair;

And when I were to picturise the Agony of Creativity,

I then sketched features of my own self.

Thereupon some said, ‘Break the back of this savage brute;

Break the head of this rude rebel.’

But the fair ones pleaded thus: ‘He is a hermit recluse, let go of him’.”

He is, thus, appreciative of the beauty around him:

“I am not convinced of simplicity in beauty,

There has to be a curtain of complexity,

Ever since I saw the eyes of a tigress,

I go not for the eyes of a gazelle.”

He tried to paint a portrait. The result was:

“When I put the paint on paper, I did not find the likeness of her;

And when I looked, she transformed herself,

And became that portrait.”

He has his rivals too:

“The necklace that my rival had presented

She must have got some idea when she accepted it;

Wearing it, she is sitting in front of me,

She has adorned herself with this necklace for the first time, today.”

Yet he always adopted the hard way of life:

“I learnt all the rules of survival,

I learnt how to turn blood into water;

In the deserts, I learnt from the cactus

the way to a life, rough and tough.”

He learnt to like himself:

“Is there anyone who so much adores himself?

Is there anyone so handsome in the mirror as myself?

Yes, this craze of mine to see myself

is so much that it knows no bounds.”

It was no self-adoration; he was only preparing for the final destiny. Maybe he wanted to hold a mirror to the injustices of the society without blaming anyone. It is more like vindication or resurrection:

“From dusk to dawn let there be a mirror

To enable me to take a look, let there be a mirror.

How do I look on the cross, let me take a look;

Only if there were a mirror in front of the cross.”

He is ever so deeply involved in thoughts:

“How could I stop thinking of my love

How could I avoid the wires in front of me;

I escaped breaking the iron rods of prisons,

Entangled, I find it difficult to break myself free of the cobweb.

Against all odds shall I survive,

Life is a goblet, shall I continue drinking the nectar;

Even if my head were cut, headless,

To live shall I strive.”

When one sees strange figures painted by him, one wonders as to who Sadequain is following. No artist had empathy for him. Surely he lived in a world of his own imagination, a utopia where there was no greed for power or money. He, therefore, advises his friends,

“When you go on the other side of the river, my friend,

to visit the moneyed, be careful;

In the guise of princes are blood thirsty genii,

In the guise of fairies are ferocious ghosts.”

However, he is ready to play his ‘assigned’ part:

“Come, when the executioner is drunk on blood,

Come when he has sharpened his dagger;

If you wish to see the grace of a lover,

Come to the execution site to see the big show.”

Many complained that he lacked ‘Pakistani-ism,’ to which he said:

“Neither Alberz, nor Alwind,

Neither Delhi, nor Samarqand I am inhabitant of;

The whole world is my country, I am the inhabitant of the land of God.”

Yet, in his writings, he called himself Sadequain, Artiste de Pakistan.

Sadequain gave a new dimension to Urdu poetry. His subject matter revolved around the feminine love, but he preferred to suffer himself. He was an excellent calligrapher, and developed a style of his own that suited his flow of ink. He was an illustrator par excellence which proved advantageous to his renderings. He was not a colourist; he played it safe, as his palette was limited. But he used his wild imagination when making images which might be dance macabre to most.

He was a very convincing painter, calligrapher and poet - a rare combination.

Note: I selected the verses to match the illustrations found in another album left by Sadequain in Paris and later donated to Al Mudassar Trust by Monsieur Bertrand Fried

(This dispatch is dedicated to Qamar Yurush who got me many books on Sadequain from the footpath bookstalls)

The writer is a painter, a founding member of Lahore Conservation Society and Punjab Artists Association, and a former director of NCA Art Gallery. He can be reached at ajazart@brain.net.pk