I think I’m best at self portraits and I paint the faces hard, lonely and morbid. They are hard because they reflect what goes on in my head. It’s difficult to pin-point what inspires these – one day, I was clearing my shelves and came across a beautiful, smiling picture from an old film. I looked at the mirror and said, “I don’t smile like that any more.” That’s when a visual flashed in my mind and I began painting the woman in ‘Main Zinda Hoon’, the scene where she is in the mental asylum in the last scene, sitting in a daze, on the swing, in her imagination, talking to her dead father. I put a placard in her hand that read, Lapatta, on which was stuck this beautiful sparking sepia picture.