THE WAY IT WAS: Breaking a rock with eggs —Mian Ijaz Ul Hassan
The good news is that art experts are half way through giving
Michelangelo’s David his first bath in more than a century. But the sad news
is that he is getting weak at the ankles — imagine standing vigilantly and
patiently on your feet for 500 years
In solitary confinement she wrote, ‘Angrily I am trying to write on the cement
wall with the bottom of my spoon, that we are born to suffer because we are born
in the Third World Time. Time and place are imposed upon us, so let us be
patient as there is no other choice.’ (Shirin Ebadi, Nobel Peace Prize, 2003).
The late Iqbal Ahmed once recounted what a Vietnamese revolutionary said when
asked to define a revolution: ‘A revolution is like breaking a rock with
eggs.’ He implied that anyone seriously committed to bringing about a
socio-political change needed to have, above all, an inexhaustible reserve of
patience.
This reminds me of an episode, pertinent to the occasion, recently narrated at a
political conference by a PPP stalwart, Chaudhry Imtiaz Safdar Warraich from
Gujranwala. Chaudhry Sahib like all Chaudhrys, including Chaudhry Aitzaz Ahsan,
has a loud, resonant voice. But in Chaudhry Warraich’s case, if he were to
converse, squeezed next to you on a chair, you would think that he was
addressing someone at the other end of the hall.
Chaudhry Imtiaz Safdar recounted in his usual booming voice that once a
fisherman came to a river to catch fish. There, he was puzzled to see a person
flinging stones at a tiger. The tiger was desperately trying to drink water on
the bank across the river. As soon as he would extend his long tongue to lap up
some water, the man would hurl a missile at him. The tiger would be distracted
and shy back from the dusty edge of the river. This went on and on. The
fisherman stood baffled. This crazy fellow was for no apparent reason or purpose
wasting his time and energy throwing stones at the mighty beast. The tiger
scurried left and right to avoid the missiles that landed near him until he was
exasperated and growled at the man on the other side. There was little else he
could do but snarl at him across the gushing waters.
The fisherman couldn’t resist any more and asked the man hurling stones why he
was doing it? ‘You know very well that you can neither hurt him nor succeed in
scaring him away,’ the fisherman said. The man gave the fisherman a broad
smile and with a sweating brow and flushed face replied, ‘ Brother I know I
can’t hurt him, magar mein we ainoon deek la kay panee nahin peen dyan ga’
(but I will also not let him drink water in one gratifying draught). It is a
rather graphic manner of strengthening individual resolve that often easily
gives up. In the end it is really not what you have achieved but what you have
done to achieve it — how many eggs you have broken to crack a rock. There is
Chinese fable where a foolish old man actually moved a mountain. A firm resolve
can make anything happen.
But a few words of caution. These days with the war against terrorism throwing
eggs at a rock can be attributed to a predilection for terrorism. Still, the
other day I threw caution to the winds when I included in one of my recent
murals the image of a young Palestinian lad, barely nine, flinging a stone at an
awesome Israeli tank racing towards him. Who would not be reminded of David, the
great Biblical hero from the Old Testament?
The artists of the Italian Renaissance have conceived the image of David in many
different ways. Donatello and Verocchio have cast him in bronze as a young boy.
Lorenzo Medici commissioned both statues. Donatello’s David was completed in
1430. It stands 5 feet, 2 inches in height. The introspective mood of his David,
however, makes him inscrutable and eludes precise narrative context and meaning.
David, conceived by Verocchio, which was cast 35 years later in 1465, is only 4
feet and 2 inches in height but more assertive in attitude. In comparison to
these two young Davids Michelangelo’s David, carved out of a single block of
marble in 1501, is a young man of heroic proportions at 14 feet and 2 inches in
height and is conceived as the defiant hero of the Florentine Republic. He is
not depicted like the David of the15thcentury masters after victory, with
Goliath’s severed head at his feet but staring over his left shoulder watchful
of his approaching foe.
It was commissioned by the town of Florence to be placed at the entrance to the
city looking up the road leading into the town as a warning to the enemies of
Florence. Appropriately enough while Michelangelo’s David has the face of a
classical hero, he has large feet, a taut body and hands of a butcher. In
contrast to self-contained statues of Donatello and Verocchio, the David of
Michelangelo stands in a ‘posture of tense expectation’ ready to pounce and
slaughter.
There are many other images of David conceived by European painters — there is
one by Bernini for instance, with features tensely concentrated extending into
real space towards an unseen Goliath (the small image I borrowed from a
newspaper has a rare feeling of immediacy and a sense of urgency.)
There was a time heroes and villains could be easily separated, but
unfortunately these days they can be more easily interchanged — butchers into
saviours and villains into heroes. On a lighter note, the good news is that art
experts are half way through giving Michelangelo’s David his first bath in
more than a century. But the sad news is that he is getting weak at the ankles
— imagine standing vigilantly and patiently on your feet for 500 years. There
is no fear that he may fall. In fact there is no fear that he will ever fall.
The spirit lives on.
Prof Ijaz-ul-Hassan is a painter, author and a political activist