Dear Tyeb Mehta,
I remember how you faithfully came to each of my shows when I was a young artist, starting my career. Quiet and unassuming, you always had something encouraging to say to me, and your gentle eyes would offer a comfort and understanding that was far more eloquent than words could have ever been. Too young to articulate what those brief interludes meant to me in those days, and in later years not wanting to sound sentimental or ingratiating, I never thanked you for giving to my generation a legacy that taught us so much, and for the generosity of your belief.
In the new hype of art and the artist becoming page 3 fodder, you stood so singularly apart from all the drama of playing the celebrity game, and with your quiet dignity maintained the privacy of your art practice with a focus that steered it away from becoming commodified by the agendas of others. You were a living legend Sir, and no book of Indian art history would be complete without your inclusion.
Rest in peace and know that your spirit will live with us forever through the amazing creative contribution you leave to us, as your gift to the nation.
Thank you Tyeb.
In gratitude and love,