Naval Jijina, a former textile designer, studied fine arts and mural painting from veterans Shankar Palshikar and Baburao Sadwelkar at Sir JJ School of Arts. Palsikar borrowed from Paul Klee, Indian mythology and miniature painting, challenging the colonial curriculum at the art school. Pics/Ashish Rane

Jijina, who was born in Surat, Gujarat, was only two, when he lost his mother. While he had family of his own, including an indifferent father, he spent his early years at the Pupil Surat Parsi Orphanage. "I was a very bright student, and wanted to become a surgeon. I was determined to be a doctor," he tells us, in Hindi, a language he picked up in Bombay. "But, my aunt wasn't too happy about it. She feared that if I did well for myself, her son would be left behind. They even took away my family property in Navsari, leaving me with nothing. And I was instead, asked to train in priesthood. I gave three exams [necessary to become priest], and got an almost full score, which surprised everyone including the religious heads. My heart, though, was always
in academics."

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His training as priest brought him to Bombay in the mid-1940s, where he lived at the Godavara Agiary on Cawasji Patel Street in Fort. "I used to get R45 per month, a cup of tea in the morning, and two meals a day. It was the toughest and loneliest phase of my life. This is not what I wanted to do. I thought my life had been ruined."

Jijina and wife Gool, who have been married 51 years and share a love for both painting and Indian classical music, are together exhibiting their work at Mumbai Gallery Weekend

Frustrated, he remembers weeping in front of the Holy Fire—only priests have access to the inner sanctum at Zoroastrian fire temples—asking for guidance. "When I came out of the temple, I felt someone speak to me, whispering into my ears, 'Tarah ma biji kai aavad hoi, toh te tu kelav [If you have any other talents, hone them]'."

Interrupting his soliloquy, Gool, who is sitting beside him, mentions how Jijina has a strong spiritual side, possibly because of the years he spent as priest. "He is always on a higher plane," she says.

At 91, Jijina continues to paint. He is currently working on an abstract landscape on the request of a family member

At the time, sketching was still a hobby. He joined a private art school, Nutan Kala Niketan, at Grant Road. The final exams, however, happened at Sir JJ School of Art. "But, I would keep failing. I must have failed almost four times. One would have given up by then, but I refused to quit." Jijina took up a foundation course at the Indian Art Institute in Charni Road, and eventually landed a seat at the reputed Sir JJ School of Art in 1956, at the age of 27. Here, he studied Fine Arts under the eminent artist and teacher, Professor Shankar Palshikar, who also helped him later get a scholarship. "He was my guru," he says. During the initial months of the course, Jijina recalls struggling. "He made me go to VT [present day CSMT], where I was expected to do a live sketch of travellers at the platform. I did this for 28 days at a stretch, sitting at the station till 2 am, making a new sketch every day. By the end of it, sir only approved four sketches. I was disheartened. He said, 'Mujhe kuch adbhut dikhao [Show me something extraordinary].' He seemed disappointed with my composition. I told him, 'Sir, please help me. I don't want to fail again.' He finally felt sorry for me, and said, 'Composition means forms and colours'," Jijina recalls. Those five words were enough to understand what Palshikar had been trying to convey all the while. "My eyes opened after that. I became obsessed. I bought myself a sketchbook. I started drawing everywhere, sometimes even behind a tram ticket. The words, 'forms and colours' would keep playing at the back of my head."

Jijina was later awarded a scholarship in mural painting at the art school, studying under another veteran, Baburao Sadwelkar. His journey in abstractionism had taken root.

Jijina tries his hand at digital photography as niece Daisy Elavia looks on. When he lost his job and slipped into gloom, he was rescued by the camera. He joined the Photographic Society of India as a student in 1976

There are only two kinds of art, Jijina tells us. One is fine arts, and the other commercial. The gleam in his eyes doesn't escape us, when he describes himself as a "proud student of fine arts".

After graduating from art school in 1962, Jijina suffered financial hardships. One of his earliest exhibitions was funded by a Parsi gentleman from Dhobi Talao, Dr Pestonji Behramji Warden, who gave him a space to further his passion for art. He showcased 54 works on the Life and Teachings of Prophet Zarathustra at the Jehangir Art Gallery in Kala Ghoda, in 1962, which were then exhibited at key cities in Gujarat, and later, London. These paintings have been auctioned multiple times at Roseberys Fine Art Auctioneers. Five other solo exhibitions followed between 1964 and 1973, one of which was held at the Sarla Art Gallery, Madras (now, Chennai). His work, Aerial Views, won awards from the Bombay Art Society and the Artist Centre in 1968. Money for these exhibitions came from his job at Bombay Dyeing & Manufacturing Company Limited, and later, as senior artist and textile designer at Rangjyot Dyers and Painters. One of his early achievements was designing the sarees for the air-hostesses of Air India. His job at Rangjyot took him to Delhi, in 1969. Around the same time, he married Gool, a musician. "It was a match made by a cousin," she remembers. "Incidentally, he was known to my family, because he used to conduct the prayers for us, when we visited the fire temple."

Flight to Mars, 1962

The couple spent three years in Delhi, during which time, Jijina got acquainted with Gaitonde. He remembers attending an exhibition, and being captivated by his abstraction artworks. "Once, my wife and I went to see a movie [in Delhi], and we ran into him at the theatre. He immediately recognised me from the show, and approached me. My only regret is that I could never show him any of my works. It would have been nice to know what he thought of them."

Jijina was, however, left disheartened by the Delhi stint. He wasn't given the salary that was promised, and neither the home. "I was instead asked to move to Faridabad [Haryana] where the company was planning to start a new office. But, I didn't see myself anywhere except in Bombay. So, we came back."

Comforting, oil on canvas, 1964 and Cyrus The Great, oil on canvas, 1968

While Gool worked at a bank, which assured a steady income, Jijina struggled. He secured a job at a textile company, but lost it soon after, as the cotton textile mills were on the last legs in the city. He did a few freelancing jobs, dropping his CV everywhere, only to be told that there were no vacancies. "He went into depression, and lost interest in his work," shares Gool.

Somehow, he managed to keep his love for painting alive. "If an idea came to him, he latched on to it, and would paint for days on end."

The couple would also practice music together—Gool on the sitar, and Jijina on the tabla. Daisy Elavia, Gool's niece, who drops in during our interview, says she has fond memories of listening to the couple, during family gatherings or when she and sister Tannaz Shroff visited their home.

What, however, rescued Jijina from the gloom was the camera. In 1976, Jijina joined the Photographic Society of India as a student, under the tutelage of the Late Rustomji Behlomji, participating in various competitions held by different associations across the country. Over the next decade, he'd go on to win several awards, including the second prize for his Colour Transparency, titled Spider, at the 45th Members Exhibition of Photography at PSI (1985), and first prize for Colour Trasparency, titled Travellers, at the Fourth All India Salon of Photography, 1990, held by the Federation of Indian Photography.

"He was completely smitten by the camera. Often, while trying to chase a picture, he has had minor accidents. I remember, once he fell off a hillock at Sanjay Gandhi National Park, while trying to capture a butterfly," remembers Gool. Elavia, shares how her uncle would often shoot hundreds of images of them doing the same thing.

"My nature is that of an artist. For me, it is all about alignment, mood, timing and atmosphere," Jijina interrupts, suddenly speaking in fluent English. He gave up photography by 2008-09, selling two of his cameras, because they became too cumbersome to hold.

On several occasions during our conversation, Jijina asks mid-day photo editor Ashish Rane, who is clicking him on a Nikon DSLR, about the lens that he is using. He also suggests angles from where he thinks his pictures will look best, and the area in his home, where the lighting works. Sensing his interest, Rane hands him the DSLR. This is the first time in over a decade that Jijina has held a camera, and his excitement is that of a child. Gool indulges him, as he takes
portraits of her.

The exhibition was something that the extended family had been contemplating for years. "Uncle and aunty have so many paintings. We've asked them repeatedly, what they'd like us to do with them, because they are very sentimental about this," shares Elavia.

Finally, last year, a family friend, who is also a commercial artist put Gool in touch with architect-sculptor Arzan Khambatta. It's through him that the couple met Dr Tarana Khubchandani of Gallery Art & Soul. Last month, Khubchandani's representatives visited the couple, and were surprised with the treasure of paintings.

Most of Jijina's works are inspired by Hinduism, Indian mythology and Zoroastrianism. "Religion continues to motivate me. I used to read columns in the Bombay Samachar, and they would inspire me to paint," he shares. He is also a fan of Dutch painter Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn, and wonders, if he could ever paint like him. "But, art cannot be imitated," he says. A true artist, he doesn't copy. He listens to himself.

The rare gem

Dr Tarana Khubchandani curator of Jijina's retrospective and director, Gallery Art & Soul

I have been in the arts field for the last two decades and seldom have I encountered an artist such as Naval Jijina. When Arzan Khambatta introduced me to Naval and Gool, I was amazed to encounter a practice that had a long reckoning in abstraction, but had sadly been left unseen. The marriage of Jijina's art practice with Indian classical music is fascinating. In my opinion, Jijina has set his own intense vocabulary and perspective, whether aerial or otherwise, and his play of colours with the thick impasto, often in white, mesmerises me. My personal favourite is his 1971, oil on canvas, titled Abstract. That work is stunning.