Delight — Meeting a hero who does not disappoint
They say you should never meet your heroes. For much of my life, I have taken this advice to heart. It seems far too unnecessarily risky to tarnish your admiration of someone who makes you feel good about the world. It is for this reason that I chose not to approach Rajit Kapoor when he looked annoyed after a superlative performance in Love Letters at Ranga Shankara many years ago. It is for the same reason that I steered clear of Siddhartha Mukherjee at a launch event for his book in New Delhi. In short, if I have an opportunity to meet someone I admire a lot, I seldom take it. But, the exception proves the rule.
When I moved to Bangalore in 2005, it was my first opportunity to explore a city on my own. It is a splendid thing to be young in a new city, ready to be explored. I had limited means but a limitless imagination, and Bangalore was a haphazard, undecided city stuck between multiple worlds —the old and the new; the Pete and the Cantonment; the idyllic old town and the sprawling, unplanned new city.
A friend and I decided that we would explore this new city the proper way —through the lens of the city’s most storied chronicler, Paul Fernandes. Every fortnight, we would pick a new Fernandes drawing, locate where it may have been based, and meet there to take in what was left of it. We had one copy of Peter Colaco’s Bangalore between us, which changed hands every time we met, and took turns to chart out the next adventure. We visited churches and cemeteries, palaces and post offices. Most of all, in life pre-Google Maps, we walked a lot, armed with some directions and my friend’s copy of Eicher Maps , making pit stops at bookshops wherever we went, drinking copious cups of filter coffee and smoking packets of Davidoff Lights that we took turns buying. Law school was a lonely place for me, and in many ways Bangalore made me feel like an outsider, but I relied on Paul Fernandes’ illustrations to guide me to make some parts of it my own.
Fast forward to 2023, just a couple of weeks back. My partner and a close friend had received a grant from Bangalore International Centre to make a short film on the typography of MG Road, the erstwhile South Parade Road. The films which were part of this cohort were to be screened as part of a festival which also included the most extensive exhibit of Paul Fernandes’ illustrations to be displayed yet. Sidenote: my partner was also asked to present a small exhibit of lettering and signage photographs which would serve as an interesting juxtaposition to it. I hoped to see the big exhibition, and hopefully, attend the walk-through led by Mr. Fernandes himself. But as we hung out in the space early before the festival opened, setting up our own exhibition and workshop, I chanced upon him quietly taking in the space.
There was something so kind and approachable about him that I could not help breaking my rule and walking up to him. I did not really have the words to convey to him what his work had meant to me, but I hope I was able to express some measure of my admiration. I must not have been as inarticulate as I was in my head, for he seemed genuinely touched. Needless to say, it made my day!