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Last Christmas, on our way to spend a short & hopefully lovely sojourn at Lonavala – we stopped briefly at Couper’s for some snacks. Since their Sourdough Toastie came highly recommended, I let go of my favorite Kheema Pav and went for it. But I didn’t quite like it. The taste was “off” for me and I had to add a few garnishings – some quite outlandish & vague – to make it specially suitable for my palette.

A Sourdough & Cheese Toastie

So clearly the “meat” meant for one, could be a “poison” for the other.

The phrase "one man's meat is another man's poison" suggests that what may be beneficial or enjoyable for one person can be harmful or unpleasant for another. Its origin can be traced back to the 16th century - the earliest known use being a similar expression, attributed to the English philosopher and statesman Francis Bacon, in his work Essays (published in 1597).

But this blog is not about Bacon or the meat. It is about how often, the “poison” provides us with opportunities for change.

A change for an improvement to meet higher expectations or a simple modification to suit something better. Or a change just for exploration.

A change because something was too perfect. A change because someone dared. A change … well, because it was time!

Whatever!

In the context of this blog, we’ll note that such modifications always create new “versions” of the existing & hence enrich our collective human knowledge & experiences.

“Poisons” are hence opportunities disguised.

Many have asked me whether Mughal Architecture in India had any traceable roots. Since Mughal or Indo-Saracenic Architecture is quite unique, close matches are not common & hence such confusion is understandable. The Great Babur – who established the Mughal Empire in India in 1526 – was a predecessor of Tamerlane from Central Asia, who amongst other things used to be the founder of Timurid Architecture.

This style of Architecture has excellent surviving examples in Samarkhand, Bukhara & even a couple in India (Sabz Burj in Delhi & Chini Ka Rauza in Fatehpur Sikri). But when it flowed to India through the Mughals – because of existing Persian influences there (from the earlier Sultanate rule) & some local elements from the Solanki Architecture (like the chhatri or the jharokhas), it took a different avatar – a unique blend.

Sabz Burj In Delhi

And the Mughal architecture was born. An excellent example of modifying or blending the existing style to suit something better - in this case the Indian conditions of climate & tradition - and thus create something unique.

Another example could be how in 1960’s Jamaica, a new form of music was formed by fusing the local Caribbean mento and calypso with the American Jazz, Blues & Rhythm. Reggae.

Like how sprinkling of oregano on a sourdough toastie, creates a different taste, a different experience.

Last year, I’ve had the good fortune to have a tete-a-tete with some of the leading watercolorists of India. And I’ve found each to have a different – or should we call it “modified” - approach from the more “traditional” one.

Ejoumale from Pondicherry & Kangkan from Assam are two of those. While both believed that sketching is an essential part and a precursor to any painting – Ejoumale used sketching to solve his ‘problems’ of composition before starting the painting, while Kangkan used it to capture those essentials in his observed environment, that he wanted to include in his paintings.

Each have used the same technique but to suit their individual needs, have modified it slightly. And thus have created multiple applications of the same technique.

Same meat, but each used a different salt. And created a different recipe.

Accepted “norms” are thus often guidelines for us & not gospel truths. One is free to & in fact should change it to suit ones need.

Such “deviations” form new norms, new grammar from which new compositions and new art emerge.

The Biryani (a mixed rice dish) that travelled from Lucknow to Kolkata in 1856 with Nawab Wajid Ali Shah, became something quite different there – thus creating a new version of the original Awadhi or Pukka Biryani, called the “Kolkata Biryani”.

Unavailability of suitable raw material or an increase in cost of supply or a variety in taste - whatever was the reason for this change - had ultimately created a new recipe more suited to the local conditions.

But now after 150 odd years, both versions exist & both are equally appreciated.

Let me just mention one more anecdote before we wrap this up for today.

Recently, due to some spinal problems, I had to change my posture for painting that I’ve been following for the last 10 years. I was a comfortable sitter, often spending hours at my small studio. But this new condition did not warrant seating in that posture & especially for finer work, when I had to bend to reach closer to the painting.

For a few days, I wondered whether I’ll be able to ever paint again.

I tried using an orthopaedic back pillow & then an ergonomic chair, which must have worked for many. I bought a tabletop easel – again a standard staple for many. But I found it too low for my comfort and style of painting.

Table Easel had to be modified

So, I decided to “modify” my meat. It was time to try a different posture.

Realizing that I had to now stand up & paint, I considered having a standing easel. But I had a constraint with space and direction of light – and it did not work. So I started by putting a box-like structure on my existing table – which seemed to do the trick. This was not something many would do, but it suited my requirement. The rest as suggested by my wife – who has seen me paint all these years – I mounted the tabletop easel on the box … and voila! – I was done.

I had now a “modified” tabletop easel that quite suited my new standing posture for painting.

And thus the “meat” was adapted to suit my taste – deviating from quite a few “norms” & “suggestions” in the process.

However, I think the next time I visit Coupers’, I’ll try my trusted Kheema Pav.