Everything in India fascinates Michel Testard. The French business consultant first came to India in 1999 to attend a party thrown by a dear friend. That night his friend hired two horses and they went riding to the India Gate. It was the self-taught painter’s beginning of “discovery of India”, a journey that continues to find reflection on canvases of different sizes where Testard employs multiple techniques ranging from pencil and charcoal to acrylic, oil and collage. Invariably, it starts with a photograph and then the image finds a new medium according to the story that Testard wants to narrate. At his ongoing exhibition at the Bikaner House, one could find an arrogant priest from Jagannath in charcoal where Testard reflects in the “inner darkness” of the saint. A step ahead there is a cheeky comment on India Art Fair capturing the traffic chaos the so-called organised world of art creates every year in the city.
On a day when Delhi is simmering, we meet in the soothing confines of SodaBottleOpenerWala, the cosy Parsi food restaurant in Khan Market. Over the years, Testard has fallen in love with butter chicken, kebabs and dal makhani of Delhi but chicken dhansak is a novelty for him. Experimental by nature, Testard tests the traditional Parsi delicacy – made of chicken and lentils and served with brown rice – and finds it palatable.
After doing “touristy things” such as exploring Neemrana and forts and havelis of the Pink City, Testard decided to take roads less travelled. He took his Enfield and rode to Leh and fell in love with Lamayuru monastery. “Then I undertook the Jagannath Yatra that not too many firangis would dare to try as there is a real danger of getting trampled,” quips Testard. Influenced by French cartoonists Wolinski, Reiser and Mordillo and great names like Braque, Chirico, Giacometti and Duffy, he would take his notebook along, and sketch. “It started with landscapes and then I moved on to monuments followed by interiors and people. I made a sketch of B.C. Sanyal when he was very old. He had a very dignified face,” he fondly recalls one of his Indian infleunces. Then there are funny cartoons like the one where an Indian swami is connected to Ganesha through a mobile but the French farmer has nothing to communicate with the angels.
Learning sitar
Musically inclined, Testard started attending events in Delhi. “I heard a lot of masters at the Kamani auditorium and after sometime thought that I should play something as well. I hesitated between sarod and sitar.” Eventually, he bought a sitar from Rikhi Ram (popular shop of musical instruments in Connaught Place) and asked the representative how could he learn to play it. “They guided me to a guruji. He had a place in Paharganj. I had to take my sitar to his place. But then my Indian friends told me that he is not a proper guruji and that they will guide me to a real guruji. So I was redirected to a real master, Ustad Ghulam Dastagir Khan. He taught me for about 10 years. Now I have five sitars,” gushes Testard.
There is a story behind it. One day, Testard was surprised when the Ustad said that he needed two sitars. “He wanted one for himself to show me how to play mine. As he used to come to my place, he could not carry his instrument.” In the process, Testard discovered the way music is taught here is completely different from the western style. “In western style, you have a score, everything is written; you play and then the teacher tells you what should be faster or slower. Basically, you have a straight structure that you follow. In India, you have a combination of very strict rules on raga, notes and rhythms but then very little is written. For me, he used to write a bit. One day when I played the meend , he didn’t like it. I said but you wrote like that. He reacted, ‘How could you expect me to write the intricacies of a meend .’ I realised you learn by hearing, watching and by imitating the master. It is a unique blend of rigour and flexibility.” No wonder, it took Testard two years to learn tuning! “In the west, it is 90 % rigour and 10 % flexibility. Here it is 50-50. That’s why you have to be very respectful to guruji. One day while moving in the room, I walked over the instrument. He said, ‘you never do that; music is sacred.’”
Interestingly, this understanding of Indian classical music helped Testard in his business domain. “Now I understand that in India everything is relative, everywhere you have to adjust. It is like tuning a sitar. You have to adapt. Now my European friends find me too unpredictable,” he laughs. “It is a good thing to survive!”
Reflecting on similarities between Indian and French people, Testard remarks that you go to remotest of tourist places in India, you will find mostly French and Italian tourists.
“I think there is an ingrained connection with art and culture. Also, despite having strong filial bonds, we both are very individualistic.” Perhaps, that’s why, he adds, French businessmen adapt easily to the ways of Indian bureaucracy. “Even when we have a top leader visiting here, the French authorities are not sure whether meeting A is going to happen because you are not sure whether the minister will turn up. There is a constant recycling of agendas. For many, it is disturbing. For us, it is ok. Everybody has learnt that,” he chuckles.
Estuary of ideas
As for the conversation between Indian artists and French art, Testard, who is inspired by the works of Raza, Souza and Ram Kumar, recalls a recent discussion at the India Habitat Centre where DAG organised an exhibition of 25 Indian modernists who spent some time in France.
“Some guys from France were explaining how the Indian artists were influenced by the French masters but I argued that their work didn’t feel like imitations of French greats. The real answer is they got artistic freedom. They got the idea that they could do something different from miniature paintings, something fresh from the old Indian traditions. In Paris, the environment was free, bustling with new ideas. It provided them the opportunity to go beyond the shackles of the British Raj.” Much like the flexibility of Indian music! At the recent India Art Fair, Testard saw the work of a young painter from Bangalore who had painted a cot on a white canvas with tremendous precision. “It took him one month. This is another difference. In Kashmir, I could see old men and women working on small intricate motifs on a shawl for two-three months. We can’t match the level of detailing that they achieve in miniature works.”
When he is not shuffling between different cities, Testard is found in his abode in East Nizamuddin where he loves to be in the proximity of a living heritage as he could walk into “Humayun’s gardens”.
When it comes to French food in Delhi, Testard picks L’Opera for cakes and croissants but complains that no place offers the right baguette. He has developed fondness for Indian food and has moved beyond the touristy butter chicken to enjoy Kashmiri meat balls, raita and gulab jamun. “When it comes to cuisines, there is a basic contradiction between the two countries. Here when they say, it’s not spicy, it’s still spicy.” Testard tries to cook but avoids “for there is always a danger of kitchen catching fire.” “I get busy with other things and forget to turn off the burner. One day there was real fire in the kitchen. I somehow managed.”
He is managing in a city which he finds getting increasingly aggressive. “But I want to be by myself. Now if friends from France come, I am not tempted to visit tourist spots with them. I want to be in the lanes and bylanes. I can speak thoda thoda Hindi. However, the basic attitude of people in large cities is quite aggressive. One moment I am learning sitar from the amiable guruji but another moment I could be crushed by a bus. I find the traffic in Kolkata much more respectful. Bombay is a lot nicer as well. As you move north, both the aggression and the pollution goes up which is one of my latest themes,” sums up Testard as we dig into authentic Parsi dairy kulfi before taking on the baking sun.
