(The painting ‘Sohni and Mahiwal’ by Sardar Sobha Singh)

I once wrote an article¹ on Sobha Singh’s iconic painting ‘Sohni and Mahiwal’ depicting the passionate lovers. It is one of the most reproduced paintings in India. I saw it for the first time at the age of ten at my uncle’s home in Lodhi Road, New Delhi. I was always mesmerised by the painting's beauty and found the ethereal aspect of it to be quite appealing whenever I went to his house. Years have passed since its ardent portrayal of the lovers drew me in. One of the four mainstays of Punjabi tragic romances, along with Sassi Punnu, Mirza Sahiba, and Heer Ranjha, is Sohni Mahiwal.

According to the folktale, Sohni, an unhappy married woman, used an earthenware pot to stay afloat while swimming across the river each night to meet Mahiwal, her lover. One night, her evil sister-in-law replaced the pot with an unbaked one, which dissolved in the water and killed Sohni by drowning.

My uncle was a religious man and most of the pictures in his house were of Gods and Goddesses. Amongst the numerous Lord Krishnas and Shivas was the painting of ‘Sohni Mahiwal’. The semi-clad and nearly naked body of Sohni was conspicuous. Also, both the lovers, Sohni and Mahiwal’s bodies were aligned making Mahiwal appear to be a shadow of Sohni. I wrote in the article:

Apart from its colours and artistic unity, there is one more thing that I have always found intriguing: from a distance, the two lovers appear to be conjoined like Siamese twins. Sohni’s semi-clad body dominates the canvas and Mahiwal is hidden behind her. Two heads appear to sprout out from the same body. Looking at the painting from a distance, I always thought Mahiwal’s extended elbow to be that of Sohni’s. Even the similarity in the facial features is hard to miss. Mahiwal appears to be a moustached version of Sohni herself.

Why did Sobha Singh do that?

During my visit to the Sobha Singh Art Gallery in Andretta, Kangra, Himachal Pradesh, I learned that the artist spent the majority of his life there and created his masterpieces. ‘Sohni Mahiwal’, which he painted numerous times, is kept in the gallery. I got a chance to look at this beautiful painting. I learnt that he painted this painting not once but many times. He played with the colours and intensity but he never made any changes to Sohni and Mahiwal’s facial features. They always looked alike. Isn’t it true that every genuine artist is aware of the quality of the merging of the selves in love and passion? All the bhakti poets did the same.

This quality of love and passion—that is, the interchangeability of the self—is known to all true artists. A similar concept of love can be found in Andre Aciman's 2007 popular coming-of-age novel Call Me By Your Name, which was also made into a film by Luca Guadagnino.

It is about love—not between two men, but between two people—Elio, a 17-year-old boy, and Oliver, a 24-year-old man. Oliver and Elio's desire to become each other is one of the book's main themes. Oliver's charms, good looks, and maturity draw Elio in. Oliver finds Elio's assurance, wisdom, bravery, and confidence to be appealing. They devise a novel means of expressing their shared aspiration to become one another: they address one another by name. Oliver addresses Elio as Oliver, and Elio addresses Oliver as Elio.

All artists have a deeper meaning for their audience, only if you delve deeper into what you see, feel, or intuitively know.
 

Endnotes:

“Organic nature of the vision of an artist’ My Voice, 18 April 2019.
https://myvoice.opindia.com/2019/04/organic-nature-of-the-vision-of-an-artist/