Art in a basement

Living in new city is an exersize in continual discovery. Outside of my flat-bubble is a massive metropolis through whose veins pumps 22 million different stories. Occasionally I feel smugly comfortable in my new city, content in new habits and repeatedly-trodden paths. I recognise the same beggars at the lights, and they recognise me. I know a few arterials and nod knowingly as the traffic crawls to a halt around 6 each night. I come across the same cab drivers, and waiters, and guards in my neighbourhood. And then occasionally, I step off my path and am reminded that it's a BIG city and I barely know it. Today was one of those days. I discovered some magic things. In the basement of a house near the zoo (which is something I had no idea Delhi had), I met a charming old man who had collected Indian art since the early 1960s, specialising in Indian minatures. He told me the tales behind the many pictures of Krishna and Radha, lovers of irresistable beauty, as interested in imparting his knowledge as selling art. We sipped tea, he showed me the brushes used by the artists in Jaipur. On his wall was a sign - "abstract art is a product of the untalented, sold by the unprincipled to the utterly bewildered." Not sure I agree, but there was no abstract art to be seen. Another sign read "Indian minatures are a magical world where all men are heroic, all women are beautiful and passionate and shy, beasts both wild and tame are the friends of men, and trees and flowers are conscious of the footsteps of the bridegroom as he passes by. This magic world is not unreal or fanciful, but a world of imagination and eternity, visible to all who do not refuse to see with the transfiguring eye of love." Pursuaded, I bought one... Radha and Krishna dancing in the rain. And I suspect this lovely gentleman will coax me back before long for more. Here is a segment of another beautiful picture hanging on his wall. There is so much beauty produced in this tough land.