Anita Nair dines S.G. Vasudev
The breakfasts arrive; I’ve chosen an American one—the bacon I know fromyears of being a food critic is a sure indicator of the chef’s prowess. These areexemplary. Crisp without being charred and juicy with the smoky flavour intact. Vasudevopts for an Indian breakfast complete with aloo paranthas, curds and pickles!
Early in January, Vasudev had a show of his creations in tapestry in Bangalore. Nowhe’s working for a major retrospective show of his copper relief work. And painting."I need to use my hands all the time," he adds.
I understand that. In this day and age, I still romance the meeting of the fountain penand paper, I delight in using my hands too which is why I pick a hard-boiled egg and dowhat I have meant to ever since I watched Robert de Niro do it in the Alan Parker filmAngel Heart. One crack on the table and then a slow swirl on the table holding it underthe palm. It’s discreet; it’s stylish and the eggshell presents an almostartistic rendering of hairline cracks.
Art can blend into craft, Vasudev says, talking of how he trained with a traditionalcopper worker many years ago and in some ways, he has reversed the process with histapestry creations. And that is the joy of creating. The endless scope for innovation andimprovisation.
As we sip our filter coffee, I realise why writers have often sought out irony as aliterary device—there is something quite splendid about how fate can throw up thesesurprises when you expect them the least. Monsoon in April is one. And meeting Vasudevanother. Though there is nothing ironic about that!