Kinship of longing

When we shifted to Bombay more than a decade ago, sight of couples getting cozy on Marine drive used to make me giggle ....I would wonder how could they get so intimate in public and the sight made me feel awkwardly repulsed! Over the years, the city unfolded layer by layer, unhurriedly, making me realize harsh realities that were much beyond comprehension from my softly padded world.

We often admire realistic depiction of life that is romanticized in movies but when one observes reality with real proximity, it is a different experience all together! Taking a walk on Marine drive and many other beaches in the city can open your eyes to interesting worlds that perhaps go unnoticed in our routinely frazzled lives too tired/disinterested to notice anything/anybody other than what/who matters to us. There are layers and layers to these "invisible" different worlds, swirling into myriad patterns of juxtaposing and coexisting in this effervescent city that exudes such aura of power and wealth!

Solitude and seclusion are words reserved for the rich in this city of vertical sprawl. Most young couples can’t afford homes of their own given the space crunch hence lovers are shaken down in parks by pesky cops and regressive politicians and moral police frown upon the Cupid.

Driven out of homes (if they are married) by compulsions, the city’s lovers constantly hunt for their own spaces of seclusion, where for a few brief moments they can build a world of their own by turning their backs to the world and rendering themselves invisible. Listening to their conversation can be hilariously entertaining! 

smile emoticon

For once, if we stop judging them and scratch beneath the surface we would find that some of these people and families are together mostly because they are forced by circumstances to huddle in miserable mass or to cling to each other for survival as life has cheated them of dignity and respect. Sometimes, the interactions are devoid of any sentiments and they are mere complicit in their misery and dissatisfaction.

Once in a while you might come across a pleasant sight where a young couple is deliberately left behind by elders in the family to grant them their moments of privacy or a couple with young child who is encouraged to play alone and is bought every possible toy as bribe in exchange of some privacy to clear out misunderstanding between the words that were said and the words left unsaid....

With myriad tales of life and their varied hues, this city never ceases to fascinate me...

Taking the road less travelled

It is fun to explore your own city with the eyes of a tourist!  Last Sunday, hubby and I went to Marve beach in Bombay. Since our original plan for Aksa beach was abruptly dropped looking at mammoth crowd, we drove down to Marve, barely a kilometer away with rumbling of an idea that required some semblance of shape and form as we hadn’t been there before. I often follow my heart and wander at different places while more sensible people indulge in siesta! Such delightful wanderings are invariably always rewarded by rare glimpse of life.    

Exploring Marve beach was like visiting an unknown land where courtesies are very much present but just packed differently. The engagement of human interaction was warm, genuine and very comforting. This world was completely different than ours yet in some beautiful way very much connected.  Marve, mainly inhabited by fishermen community, a world of gullies, by-lanes, fishing boats and an exit point for commuters from Manori, coexists juxtaposing with swanky surrounding just a few meters away across the road swirling into myriad patterns of this effervescent city that exudes such aura of power and wealth! 

There was beautiful energy throbbing in the air with the sky changing colours and textures like stunning abstract paintings of a maestro and different hues of life unfolding all around like a big, never ending scroll; children playing in the sand making toys, their parents keeping watchful eyes and grabbing the rare opportunity of some privacy with their partners, newlywed lovelorn couples, families come for outing and enjoying home cooked meals, people enjoying ice slush, corn on the cobs, chaat and other street food, a luxury for many of them! The beach is not only a source of entertainment for less privileged, hard working people from diverse communities, but a melting pot where they share bidis, paans and individual torments that connect them through struggle for survival! 

Seeing magic of marvel in the eyes of a child who has made a sand castle, a woman blushing because her hubby has finally shown courage to hold her hand publicly; something she longs for but is denied back home due to social pressures, an ecstatic child fascinated by the rainbow colours on the ice slush and enjoying it to the hilt, an old couple enjoying Sunset feeling nostalgic, these are truly rare sights that usually go unnoticed but are worth cherishing.The frenetic cadence of our life rarely allows us to see beyond our softly padded walls but we often find our truth in least expected spaces; in the least imagined ways. Visiting such places opens one’s eyes to the privileged life we take for granted. After all, life is more beautiful when we learn to value such small moments of simple, harmless joys that most of us living in big metropolis like Bombay have forgotten long, long back. 

Monochrome moments

I often keep writing articles in my mind from the most unthinkable places or in midst of bizarre situations! It is very late night and I am staring at my computer screen. The window behind the computer brings alive patch of dark sky with a twinkling star or two occasionally. It is a pleasant surprise to feel the cool breeze on my tired body. 

On this yet another sleepless night, I am trying to attend some work and click on "Scheduled work for February" file. The calendar shows half of February is gone and there is still backlog of "work to do". I can't help wondering how I am going to complete all those tasks on time with my uncooperative body rung out of energy. While my frayed nerves and withered spirit constantly struggle to have a compatible, synchronized rhythm with my mind, there is a quiet riot in my heart. It is one of those typical frustratingly exhaustive moments that invariably always bring tears.

As I write this, there is complete quiet here. Not the joyful, serenely comforting silence of my beautiful home but the suffocating silence and it is unsettling. There are some private spaces of memories that emerge unannounced and are unwilling to leave creating riot that makes me more fragile. The stillness of the nights comfortably slips into rhythm of  the house while on many a nights, I keep tossing endlessly to get some sleep, in vain. On some nights, past few cups of green tea or coffee, I look outside the window listening to creaks and sighs that break the silence. A scratchy sound of the plane flying high or dogs from far across the street, trying to settle their scores with barks and snarls, appear to be only a temporary distraction.   

Things have been different around the house off lately ever since my mother in law's health reports are showing signs of her Cancer relapsing after two surgeries and a heart attack in last two years. And all that such reports entail is emotionally numbing experience. There is tremendous pressure due to increasing demands and expectations from my personal and professional life. 

There comes a point in course of attending patient of life threatening disease like Cancer, when primary care taker reaches a point of brink. And I think, I have reached mine a long time back. But where does one build a place inside oneself to endure that ache? What does one do when life becomes too much to bear and only the sound of one's own breaths echo through the void? 

I remember my friend's words during our conversation over phone this morning. She had called to invite me for a soiree and when I declined the invitation stating my busy schedule and how tired I am, she casually asked, "Oh come on, you are having so much fun all the time. Can't you spare an evening for us friends?" She is obviously referring to my Facebook page where I keep posting pictures of interesting Art events I go to. I wish people understood Facebook is a very, very tiny part of my life and that there is so much that happens in my life that doesn't necessarily gets posted on my page because I choose not to. I wish she understands what all painstaking efforts I have to take to spare a few hours off my crazy schedule for myself, without feeling guilty!

I wish I could explain her attending the exhibitions and Art events is not only about my passions but also a part of coping mechanism and finding balance while being compelled to helplessly witness Cancer slowly sucking life out of my mother in law. I wish words could express what an eye opener it is to witness that constant struggle! I wish I could tell my friend how each morning it is a battle for me when I decide to win by torture I inflict upon my body, ignoring warning signs of pains and aches of fatigue that emerge from every single cell of my body, threatening to revolt from time to time. But these things don't really matter on a platform like Facebook where mostly people assume things and judge you based on what is being shared. 

I look outside the window and see the night sky has seamlessly given way to the light from dawn without much ado. Those twinkling stars now adorn a different fading light. I look at the calendar once again and start working on ‘Scheduled work for February’. As the night languidly glides into a lovely morning, I am tempted to catch a fleeting nap before the daylight drenches Bombay sky again. But there appears to be no respite as the show must go on! 

Handicrafts and Art galore at "A hundred hands" exhibition

I have been into whirlwind of delightful time off lately! An Art and handicraft lover like me always gets spoilt for choices in city like Bombay that is known for its exuberant Art scene.

One notable exhibition I recently attended was organized by an NGO from Banglore, “A hundred hands”, a handmade collective, that provides  platform for handicraft artists and educate them in enhancing their products and encourage them understand contemporary styles and compete with global products. 

Indian handicrafts is a vast realm when it comes to writing about it. Millions of Indians still depend on indigenous modes of production, traditional skills and techniques to make a living based on handmade products. 

Traditional handicrafts are unique expressions of a culture or community through local craftsmanship and materials. With increased globalization however, products are becoming more and more commercialized and artisans find their products competing with goods from all over the world and that is precisely the reason, NGOs like "A hundred hands" play a major role in helping the artist carry forward legacy of their land and its culture, myth and religion in their art practices. 

Traditional arts define the true identity of a civilization. In India, handicraft and its artisans were highly regarded and duly rewarded until the outbreak of the 19th century industrialization. Unfortunately, one of the challenges Indian handicraft industry faces today is that our markets do not recognize the true value of craft and this trend has led a large number of artisans move to urban centres in search of low, unskilled employment. While crafts received royal and aristocratic patronage during pre-Independence days, the sector presently carries the stigma of inferiority and backwardness and is viewed as decorative, peripheral and elitist despite being second largest source of employment!

"A hundred hands" collective is an initiative that provides boost to hundreds of artisans by building a network of artisans, empowering, encouraging and helping them sustain revival of their crafts without losing its ethos. 

Here are some snippets from the exhibition that showcased stunningly beautiful art with its complex, colourful, simple yet captivating raw charm and the immensely gifted artists who were such delight to meet with! 

Mithila artist, Shantidevi; unassuming, immensely gifted artist with shrewd business acumen and deep philosophical attitude towards life! I was deeply humbled by her simplicity, creativity, exuberant persona, utmost dedication and professionalism. Ask her to paint in any surrounding that has some trees and she will be happy to oblige as she can easily make vegetable dyes instantly! At Bhau Daji Lad Museum premises, she named a few trees around (I didn't know their names) and explained how colours can be obtained from them.

 

Ramjibhai, artist from Kutch was busy weaving “charpai” that takes about two days to complete. He laments change in peoples’ lifestyle that has made him change a few things with time. He rarely gets to weave a “khatlo” (a wooden bed woven with cotton ropes) the expertise he has carried forward through generations. 

Despite the language barrier, Banjaran Parubai (Laxmi) and I could connect through our common interest; handicraft. She hails from Sandur, Bellary district, Karnataka and is part of a trust, "Sandur Kushala kala Kendra".  I could not understand Lambani yet it was amazing and hilarious the way we could still communicate. Watching her engrossed in embroidery work is such a treat! In minutes, she transforms a piece of cloth into art with help of a simple needle and a few colourful threads/mirrors/beads.

Arati Bedekar, the Encaustic artist, was the surprise element for me in this exhibition! I had never seen this art form before. Encaustic painting is one of the world’s oldest art forms that dates back to Ancient Greece. Encaustic is a Greek word meaning “to heat or burn in” (enkaustikos). Heat is used throughout the process, from melting the beeswax and varnish to fusing the layers of wax. Encaustic consists of natural bees wax and dammar resin (crystallized tree sap). The medium is melted and applied with a brush or any tool the artist wishes to create from. Each layer is then reheated to fuse it to the previous layer.

Pattachitra artists, painting on bamboo!

Colourful thread work on bangles.

Artist Mohammed Asim comes from family of Wire Sculptures and is known for exploring Sterling Silver using various techniques like; casting, weaving and soldering. 

Banana fibre is used in so many handicrafts from Kerala! Mixed with other organic fibres, the products have raw beauty and are aesthetically appealing to the contemporary tastes. 

"Sanjhi" work by an acclaimed artist Vijay Soni. Sanjhi is an intricate art of paper cutting  with help of plied scissors and blades, without any tracing or drawing. 

Exploring empty streets of Udwada

"There is absolutely NOTHING there. Why waste your time?"!! Exclaimed one of our friends on learning we were planning to visit Udwada on our weekend trip. I couldn't explain him that where he sees lifeless, I see calm. Or, where he finds the place boring, I see a charming town of stunningly beautiful cottages and bungalows trapped in history for centuries! 

Udwada: History! Intrigue! Culture!  Stories of migration from centuries ago! Sense of longing and pain derived from it. Identity; found and now on the brink of losing it. Udwada, a quaint, little town from Gujarat; one of the most sacred places for Parsi- Irani Zoroastrian, is a paradigm of collective memory and nostalgia. It is the home for the holy fire which the Zoroastrians brought with them while they escaped Iran centuries ago. 

Parsi community in India, is on brink of extinction and with each passing day, its religious, psychological, social, political, economic ideals being altered, there is a vast difference between its past and present. With migration of the young generation, the town has become empty, struggling to hold on to its soul threadbare. The rampant modern constructions are slowly taking over the town once known for its stunningly beautiful cottages and bungalows. The new construction looks strangely out of the place, dissonant and unable to imbibe the core essence of what the town stands for.  

I have been visiting Udwada since last ten years and each time I see a few more derelict houses/cottages narrating tales of erstwhile glorious past and its subtle loss, I feel sad losing an important cultural, social, political history piece by piece.  

Each time I visit Udwada, I hope to find freshly drawn rangolis (chalk designs) at the entrance of a cottage crowded with people and pray for a chanced meeting with someone who casually walks out of home and is willing to share some stories of the family /town/community and life in general. Alas, I am yet to fulfill that dream! But, no, I am not giving up my hope, till the last cottage stands in Udwada. 

 

Me outside an old Library building  built in 1938

Closed homes and empty lanes of Udwada

  One of the many closed houses of Udwada

A shop selling material for prayer at Parsi Agiyari, at Udwada

The only two people I could see on the street of Udwada 

One of the many closed homes in Udwada creating curiosity about what it would have been like when people lived in it 

Quiet streets of Udwada where time stands still 

One of the many beautiful cottages of Udwada 

 A quintessential Udwada building, a statement on current situation of the town after migration of most people