Once he had got the answers to his questions, he would immerse himself in creating the pieces he cherished. His creations were not merely art, but resonated with those who sought to witness his talent. In his journey, he found good company in Raamla, Sudhakar Reddy Sa’ab, Nasreen, Madanlal and others. He was favorite of Mahendra Pandya, a professor at MSU. Their bittersweet exchanges, filled with agreements and disagreements, became treasured memories. During his time there, he was affectionately called Prabhuji / Sharmaji.
With a mischievous smile, he would often recall the time Mahendraji, frustrated with his unconventional approach, temporarily halted his scholarship. The professor, in a moment of stern judgment, believed this would steer him back on the right path. However, as weeks turned into months, Mahendraji’s resolve softened. Recognizing the harshness of his decision, he arranged gracefully for Guruji’s meals at his home until the scholarship was reinstated.
He did not permit me to write the final exam, wanting me to stay another year, and I agreed, choosing to remain by his side, but as the time to leave Baroda drew near, Mahendraji became relentless in his attempts to persuade me to settle there and take up a position at the university. With firm determination, he would ask, “What do you need to stay? Name your terms.”
Guruji, always elusive, would never commit. “Give me some time,” he would reply, hoping to postpone the inevitable decision. “I’ll answer you when I return from Banaras, after attending Madanlal’s wedding.”
However, upon leaving Banaras, he did not return to Baroda. Fearing he would not be able to escape his mentor’s persistence, he followed the call of his heart instead. He journeyed straight to Adilabad, a place where he could finally fulfill his true desires and dedicate himself to his art.
Meanwhile he continued to craft the pieces he loved and once he had a sufficient collection, he would sit beneath a tree in the campus, arranging them and working on the unfinished ones. People visited him often, and he made some exquisite sales. One particular incident stood out in his memory due to the unique fervor with which a certain piece was pursued.
He had sculpted a figure of Prabhu shri Atmalinga Hanuman in metal, an exquisite piece in every respect. As he was putting the finishing touches on it, people began to express their desire to own it. Among them, three individuals stood out, each with a compelling yet different intention.
The first was a wealthy local man, who saw the sculpture as a magnificent work of art and was desperate to add it to his collection. His eyes never left the piece, and he relentlessly pursued him to acquire it.
The second was a trader, who recognized the sculpture’s potential for profit. His interest lay in purchasing it so he could sell it later at a higher price. He even muttered something about “good business sense” and “true value”.
The third admirer viewed the sculpture as a divine figure. Though he was a man of modest means, his reverence and genuine devotion to the piece were evident.
Faced with a dilemma, Guruji pondered the intentions behind each offer. He ultimately chose the third person, believing that this individual would truly honor and cherish the sculpture. The devotee, overjoyed to finally possess his god, arranged a date, touched his feet in gratitude, offering 11 rupees as dakshina. He took the piece with immense happiness, while the wealthy man huffed and puffed and the trader left, grumbling.
Guruji often recounted this incident to illustrate the essence of the Bharatiya Manas. He would say that to a foreigner friend, I might have appeared as a fool who didn’t understand the value of his work. However, within the realm of Bharatiyata, he would be seen from a different perspective, one who values emotion and spiritual connection.
The difference between the Bharatiya and Western manas, Guruji would explain, “Hum log atamiyata se vyavahar karne wale log rahe hai, jabki Pashchatya manas vyavahar se Atmiyata karta hai.” In other words, one sees the soul; the other sees the sale.
Once, in the late 2000s, we had visitors, who were eager to meet and spend time with Guruji. One of them recounted a memorable encounter at MSU with Mahendraji while sitting.
As they walked through the campus, he asked Mahendraji, “During your tenure at MSU, did you ever come across someone with truly exceptional talent?”
At first, Mahendraji shook his head and replied, “No, I can’t say that I did.” But then, as if a distant memory had suddenly been illuminated, he scratched his head and his eyes lit up.
“Arre Han,” Arre Han, ek tha wo Andhra wala ladka, Dhoti pehan k aya tha, Ravindra – Who tha (there was one—an Andhra boy, always in his dhoti. Ravindra—yes, that was him). How could I forget?” Somewhere in 2014 or 15 Guruji paid a brief visit to Baroda to meet his mentor!
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