====== It can be traced to the wanderings with a Faqir, grandfather. To the rags of myriad hues someone wove, grandmom. To the verses of a scripture, The Qur'an. If the collage of colours punctuated and accentuated by fine columns in Rafique's art manifests the fragmented memory of a childhood, the deep resonance emanating from within the canvas confirms the remnants of a lost village. The artist delves within to yarn his tales. Yet, his art doesn’t romanticise the past or appears loaded by nostalgia; it sits up, stares ahead and moves on, capturing the crisis of dislocation and exile. Emerging from a serene village as his brush grapples with the violence of cityscape, the canvas explodes in a restless attempt to locate and lend hues to its suddenly altered milieu. His art, in the process, becomes a fascinating arena of dynamic forms, where village meets the city, tradition confronts the modern and fumbling sketches metamorphose into smouldering shades. Delve deeper and the traces of an old woman can be situated in these forms that lead him to tread through this alien territory. . A curious and restless gaze receives the offerings of cosmos with gratitude, fluttering pupils dilate with childlike wonder, and fingers fumble with brush to lend forms to the feeling. As he confronts with the visible, its character and compositions, the artist knows only seeing will rescue him. For him seeing is of paramount importance. Even as he is asleep, he does not cease to see. Surrounded by canvas, colour tubes and tapes, his dreams speak through his hues. Clearly then, painting is a plain visual for him. An eye to cherish. An image to relish. Receptive to all, his eye is not confined or caged to a specific motion or emotion. Not to say that his gaze has transcended the visible, but he sure endeavours to grasp and situate the images that are not formed on his retina. Like many other artists he was unaware of his being till he discovered his self in, and through, hues. A wandering soul finding the final recluse in colours, if we can term it final. He is still amid the first steps to comprehend the magic and mystery of tones. But sure he carries an unflinching faith in locating his being only in the realm of colours. A reticent human, he will even compare himself to a muted creature whose voice was retrieved by the energy created following the fission of colours on the canvas. He asserts his existence through colours, but also cares to preserve virgin spaces on canvas untouched by the breath of his brush. Call it a desire to ensure he does not encroach on the territory not meant for him. A promise that he holds the unknown in reverence. The white geometrical figures then are the deliberate instances the artist has been able to obliterate the minutest of his traces from his art. His strokes are still not adventurous, do not exploit and explore the potential of colours, they are chosen carefully nevertheless. A pupil with the palette, his essence is in his learning. And yearning. He learns and yearns to apply colours, confront with perspective, its character and compositions, and manages to divide the canvas space into inventive forms. With only a few layers, mostly three-four, he obtains a multilayered echo of colours. A voice emanates from an old well. A pristine tune wafts through the wild. heard from rusted minarets decades ago percolating onto the canvas. Come closer and one can listen to the resonance of a nomadic An attempt to retrieve the echoes of a childhood prayer in art.