The lonely Banyan tree

During my last visit to Baroda, I went to all the places that had emotional significance for me during my growing up years. And one of those places was a Banyan tree at the entrance of the society where I grew up. My head was brimming with lots of images and I tried to assemble and hang on to every impression that was buried in the form of happy childhood. A long, unending scroll of floating world opened up before my eyes and I could almost sense a lyrical stream running through it of poetry, of tenderness, above all of vismaya or that elevating sense of wonder that our scripts talk about; beautiful symphonies of birds chirping, fakirs playing upon harmonium on the side walk, a sadhu with grave face singing a bhajan and dancing at the temple, lovers in the shadow of a tree, goats standing on their hind legs for reaching out the lone leaves on a bush, the toy seller with his colourful clay toys and the garden where I learnt to catch ladybirds and butterflies! It is strange how some memories, associations tumble out inside your head, unasked, long after you return from some place.

The banyan tree was a special place for many reasons. It was outside the compound of the garden where I played endlessly with many friends. Its huge branches were spread between the main road and the compound wall of the garden, setting perfect demarcation for our safe world. The tree was a unique microcosm and beneath it was an equally fascinating world of a cobbler; a figure we were terribly afraid of but were drawn to nevertheless. He was  a great looking tall man about forty with divine smile of a loving grandparent and very intriguing personae. The only time we got to see him smile was when we tried to cross the compound during the play and he gently cajoled us to return to the garden. We knew that though he seemed to not notice us, he always had watchful eyes and was very protective of us. His hulking wife was always around, sitting on a small chair among the sorry residues scattered all around; the battered stove, the broken bed, one and a half chairs, a few utensils, the clock inlaid with mother of pearl that had stopped working at eleven minutes past four, a few decades back on a dead and forgotten time and date. 

There was something about the cobbler that fascinated us. We were very young to understand life but even at that innocent age we could feel the distress in his beautiful eyes. He was so used to rejection and disrespect that when people brushed past him or argued with him for the money or work he always appeared unaffected. The basic needs of his family were hardly met and yet he was always a giver in his own beautiful way. His inscrutable face, the shaggy brows beneath which his grey eyes glinted coldly had seen enough life perhaps. Squatting beside him sometimes were his three children with his wife, sitting together, eating meals without exchange of a single word. The sight used to be so divine that we would peep and often wonder how they looked so content despite hardly having much on the plate. The huge banyan tree with its massive central trunk and surrounding smaller trunks hung down to spread its roots but the cobbler was never dwarfed by the tree. 

Since I could not find the old man after these many years, the curiosity kept rattling around in my brain and knowing myself well, I thought of finding out. The cobbler was long gone with his family. There was nobody around to tell me about him. Everything around the tree had changed. The banyan tree had grown further spreading its branches but it was no more the same without the cobbler and his family beside it. Its plush surrounding robbed it of its character. New roads were built near the tree and the garden that I used to play at with my childhood friends was gobbled up by the new development. 

It is painful to notice landscapes get reduced to dust! Within trice, everything is gone. And all that is left is traces and smudges. The speed at which memories, images, dreams, impressions, relationships, associations, bonds vanish is overwhelming. Sometimes, in futile attempt, we try to hold on to them through our stories, photographs, art, crumpled, handwritten notes in small drawers at the corner table of the room and preserve them, keep them safe just as they were, even when everything around starts beginning to decay. As I stood under the banyan tree, the harried pace of life around it brought me out from memory lane. The place that once was serene had silently witnessed changed times. Surrounded by screeching screams of traffic on the road, faces dodging one another in deeply condensed lives, people moving into some unheard, unseen rhythm like a controlled chaos, the Banyan tree looked precarious. There were no children, no butterflies or lady birds to catch, nobody to play at the swings made on its branches. The Banyan tree seemed lonely in its solitary confinement and when I left, I realized burden of time passed by in all these years.

Art attack !

As I write this, I am completely soaked in a great creative high! The Kala Ghoda Art Festival in Mumbai started last week and I visited it couple of times. An eagerly awaited event which is oasis of art, culture, creativity, innovation and entertainment; KGAF is a great refuge from a typical urban existence, a space that serves as pot-pourri of intellectualism, cultural trends and mind blowing artistic creations that nurture beautiful, vibrant energy and ignite magical marvel leaving one transformed, energized and profoundly inspired. The greatest reward of visiting KGAF is, one finds it compelling to visit new territories of mind's landscape that introduce new perspective about art and life in general. 

Here are some of the interesting installations that I came across at Kala Ghoda Art Festival, 2013. 

"Dhanda" , an installation by "Baaya Design" 

"Dhanda" in Hindi means business and the word defines quintessential metropolis of Mumbai, a financial capital of India, with its throbbing and pulsating energy of glamour and glitter of wealth. This installation is a brilliant juxtaposition between over ambitious skyscrapers and vicious cauldron of urban destitution.  

The mascot of the KGAF, made with card board 

"Cycle chalao, city bachao" an installation by Rajesh Nakar

In the times of ever increasing petrol and diesel prices and suffocating pollution that creates serious health issues, the installation, "Cycle chalao, city bachao" ( ride bicycle and save the city) depicts artist's concern about the choices we make in urban living and how it affects our health, environment and quality of life in general.

An installation titled,"Samyam (defensive war), by artist, Sachin Chaudhry 

The artist's message is very poignant and he conveys that like tortoise that pulls back its limbs into shell, it helps an individual to have control over his senses and intellect to restrain when needed and have stable mind that is derived from self-control.

"Tarevarchi Kasrat", installation by Sonal Jadhav and Nikhil Borhade

"Tarevarchi kasrat" when literally translated, means walking on the tight rope and striking balance. In this beautiful work, the artists suggest that the city of Mumbai is city of dreams, people from across the nation that migrate here, come with big dreams, hopes, aspirations, ambitions and expectations to "make it big" and in the process often end up trading them in exchange of something for the sake of survival. The subtle process ties them up forever and sometimes getting out of that invisible entice is impossible. Here, different colours of threads represent different emotions, aspirations and ambitions of Mumbaikars.

!00 years of Bollywood cinema 

"Queen's necklace" by Swapnil Pednekar 

The Tetra-pods, representing coast of Mumbai, not only protect the coast but are silent witness to many love struck couples who lack space and privacy. A few moments of seclusion and privacy around these Tetra-pods are absolute necessity in this city where every single inch of the land is priced insanely, much beyond a common man's reach. Many a worlds are built on the basis of a few intimate, private moments near sea beach. Hence the tagline of this installation aptly says, "When you come here, all you see is love." 

"Sapno ka Number" By Shailesh Rathod 

The city of big opportunities, where any insane dream has possibility of materializing, the city of Mumbai is the muse for many insatiable quests for fulfillment of dreams no matter how unrealistic, crazy, selfish, greedy or audacious the dream, the city provides space to fulfill it. 

"The Dabbawala" ( the tiffin carriers)

Life in Mumbai is impossible to imagine without these "dabbawalas", an absolute "must" for middle class working people, they are interesting case for study in management schools.  

Stirring memories

I am back from Baroda and as I write this, am looking at few things, arranged neatly on the table near me. Old photographs, an intricately carved and beautifully designed German silver tea set, exclusive silver utensils used only during festivals or birthdays, a Reader's Digest atlas that was gifted to me on my birthday with beautifully written note from my father in his artistic handwriting, antique, brass and copper utensils used for puja, a thick volume of The Bhagwat Gita, a stunningly beautiful Saree of a rare weave that my father bought from Assam for my mother (an art collector's item), a few old vinyl records of maestros of Indian classical music, woollen shawls ....etc.

I have got these things with me from my parents' home after fulfilling responsibility of division of their wealth as per their wish. The experience is life changing and has taught me profound lessons about relationships, human nature and life in general.

The most painful part in this entire experience was vacating my parent's home for the new occupant. Cleaning out my parents' wardrobes, going through their personal belongings, checking every little thing in the house before distributing or giving it away to charity brought back acute sense of loss. I went through surge of mixed emotions of virtue, satisfaction, respect, realization, grace, patience, forgiveness, joy, sorrow, shame, rudeness and wrath.

I missed my mother asking me for scalp massage with hair oil. I missed her wanting to feed me endlessly and cooking elaborate meals despite her failing health. I missed her telling me about a new book she had read and the house being specially cleaned and made all the more presentable before my arrival. I missed the guests who went on pouring without any prior phone call, endless nights spent with siblings, dozens of cousins, family friends and neighbours singing songs, laughing and making mad conversations, demanding food that was invariably prepared with great care about everyone's taste and was served with utmost love. I missed being dropped and picked up at railway stations during my visits to Baroda. I missed my father wanting to travel and me getting upset with him and advising him against it due to his health issues and he getting mad at me in return and banging the phone suddenly during our chat. I missed the daily conversations with my father over phone filled with love, concern and deep understanding. I missed those words that my parents never spoke, acceptance that they never gave for few things, the apology they never made, the affection that sometimes only I was entitled to receive, the missed conversations due to different wavelengths and getting on nerves of each other in spite of all the love and mutual respect. It is strange what all we miss when we lose our parents! I felt uneasiness at its zenith!

It is a painful experience to clear out house of our loved ones with whom the very core of our identity is attached! The void I felt in the house after everything was distributed or given was too much to deal with. A strange sense of loss engulfed me; and it felt as if I was throwing them away in bits and pieces. The sum total of their life lay before me in corrugated boxes waiting to be given away and that feeling gave me lump in throat.  I know my parents are with me in spirit and I don't need to keep them alive through any material thing. The experience however painful has helped me bring some closure and what matters is how I carry on with life with my late parents' blessings and evolve with every experience life throws at me and learn to take it in my stride with great élan just the way my father and mother did when they were alive. 

C'est la vie! 

The REAL women with substance

There are amazing people out there! I am sure you know some. Hopefully you are surrounded by many or run across them often. Do you know that feeling when by chance you stumble upon people who come out of nowhere and they surprise you with their spirit, kindness, talents, politeness, thoughtfulness, in short, by just being their true self and giving you something exceptionally fascinating that you are swept off your feet? Well, I had amazing experience of meeting some extraordinarily talented, gritty, stunningly beautiful women at handicrafts and handloom exhibition, Mahalaxmi Saras, Mumbai, two days ago.

Every time I meet people; specially, women from small villages, I realize how heart of entrepreneurship in India lies in small villages at grass-root level. Women entrepreneurs who work to provide essential products, services and solutions that help enhance not only local economy but empower them and their community with better opportunities to improve life. Most of the women I met at the exhibition are almost illiterate and yet they have such inspiring stories to share that I feel humbled.  Every woman I have acquainted in this article is immensely gifted, intelligent and phenomenally wonderful person! Let me introduce them to you. 

Rajubai Sitaram Jadhav from Vaijnath, Parli, a Banjara woman 

Don't make mistake of going by her looks. She might look primitive from a completely different era but once she is comfortable with you she will surprise you with her brilliant sense of humour, intelligence and shrewd business sense. Meet Rajubai Sitaram Jadhav from Vasant Nagar, Vaijnath, Parli. Age, no clue! She has very vibrant personae just like her clothes. Her bright red and pink attire can brighten up barren faces around her and one feels positive vibes that resonate instantly!

Rajubai with her creations at the stall 

Rajubai has undergone cataract surgeries and both her eyes are weak but she can't give up her craft of embroidery as she feels her creativity is what defines her truly. Ask her about education and she points her thumb horizontally at the table; a gesture that suggests "angoothachaap" (illiterate). When she explains need to understand colours and concept of contrast in craft like embroidery, one is tempted to think how she could give any fashion designer run for her money if only she was little trained professionally and educated! She will start a gig out of blue while conversing with you and the grace in her dance will completely surprise you. She supports a group of about twenty women from her village, trains them in her craft, helps them hone their skills, attends every possible exhibition and is a very smart sales person.   

Indubai Murlidhar Katare  from Shingve, Nashik

Indubai Murlidhar Katare from Shingve is a very dignified lady. From the moment you meet her, she commands respect. Extremely polite and soft spoken, she is "adhyaksha"(president) of the centre that sells organically grown black currents and resins. Her challenge was to learn basics of business from educated person. Now that its achieved, she also keeps busy with cleanliness drive, and has single handedly managed  to engage people from her village in  social service. Her drive against drinking and female infanticide has shown remarkable results. She proudly tells how you would never find a single person in her village sitting idly as everyone is happily engaged in contributing towards change. She has not gone to any business school but is a great example of true leader. Her open mind has helped women in her village get out of confines of four walls and be financially independent and socially aware. 

We never talk about leaders in nine yard sarees, do we?  

Kusherata Annarao Poyed from  Vardgaon, Nanded

Kusheratabai reminds you of your loving granny.  Behind her stark face is a woman whose heart is overflowing with love and care. She heads a committee in small group meant for women from her village that sells organically grown spices and pulses. If you show genuine interest in her, there are chances of you being treated to a delicious meal served with dollops of love while she talks passionately about her group, their work and the women she works with. She would not let you go without a warm hug and whisper something in your ear that is supposed to protect you from evil eye! By the time you say good bye to her, she would have touched your heart so deeply that your eyes will be moist.  

Shashikalabai Chalke from Tadhaatgaon, Jalna

Shashikalabai is thrilled to share details of how socio-economic dynamics of her community have changed after joining the group of weavers like her.  She promptly explains the process of obtaining raw material to production of woven products and enthusiastically displays process of  spinning on wheel. After joining the development programme which she had resented in the beginning she has become very confident of taking big orders. She has little difficulty in interacting in any language except Marathi but somehow manages to get her message across.   

Deolibai Sakharam Chavan from Naik Nagar, Murum 

The oldest of them all, Deolibai at age of 90, deserves to be awarded for being the most beautiful, vivacious and remarkably sharp participant at the exhibition. She takes time to open up and she means business. Once you have won her trust, she talks. And how! She shares amazing anecdotes from her life; about different times when India was under British rule, her young age,  her one big family with grandsons and great grandsons, challenges posed by modernization  for people like her, living in forests. She shows great concern about complex adjustments their traditional life is confronted with, ecological issues and most important passion of her life, her art. Her age is evident on her wrinkled body but when she talks, she sounds like a sixteen year young girl, deeply in love with life! Ask secret of her stunning beauty and her reply will be, "I don't stay idle for a second, lead a simple life amidst Nature and I play with the children of the house. There is nothing more I need from life." 

She curiously asks what I am going to do with so many pictures and the moment I explain I am going to write about her, she opens an album and shows me her photographs with ex-prime ministers of our country. Deolibai has a spark which is difficult to miss. A respected matriarchal figure in her group, she explains that to get work done from others is matter of tact. Her richly embroidered work is sought after by many customers and she attends every question with ease and patience.       

 

After meeting these wonderful women I feel what artisans like these women need is a little training in communication, language skills and market knowledge to connect to wider audience. What they have achieved despite their background is indeed commendable. My salute to all these extraordinary women for igniting such wonderful spirit within me. I am deeply honoured. Phenomenal women, you inspire me and touch my soul! 

Meeting "Kaavad" artist, a unique story teller

Art of storytelling in India is very rich heritage that defines our culture and identity. Sadly, we have lost touch with this art form in today's fast age of internet, animation, cinema and mass media that are predominant part of our life. Recently, at a handicraft exhibition, I discovered an ancient, mesmerizing form of audio-visual storytelling using "Kaavad" as the medium.    

Artist Satya Narayan, demonstrating the design of Kaavad 

Kaavad is a compact wooden box/shrine, with multiple folding doors with vibrant illustrations portraying mythological stories from the Ramayana, Mahabharata and folk tales. It is a medium for beautiful rendition that combines tradition, art, culture and identity of Rajasthan, passed on through generations.  

Kaavad in different sizes on display at the stall

At the exhibition, I met an artist, Satya Narayan Suthar, from Bassi and what followed was completely enthralling! Satya Narayan ebulliently explained how Kaavad is integral part of tradition of storytelling. While showing painted surfaces opening outwards into multiple panels with hinged doors and flaps, he deciphered significance of each scene depicted on Kaavad and explained how the performance of Kavadiya Bhats (men who travel like bards from one place to another with Kaavads, reciting stories through their songs and dance that unfold with every opened door on the Kaavad) reaches end with opening of innermost chamber, that has picture of a deity. 

 Satya Narayan, narrating story depicted in Kaavad

Satya Narayan proudly told me about how he learnt this craft from his father. The practice of combining painted visuals to a narrative and linking it with performance was a popular tradition in many interior parts of Rajasthan and he narrated interesting experiences of how such traditions created interesting bonds between the story teller and his listeners through fascinating world of mythical heroes and Gods. 

Brightly coloured  Kaavad , with  stories from Indian mythology

Apart from his art what I liked about Satya Narayan was the openness with which he answered every single curious question I asked. There was innocence and rawness that one finds in people from smaller towns and villages. He told me how each exhibition opened up new prospects for his art and helped him receive patronage from many people from India and abroad. 

Kaavad,  in unconventional colour, white

One of the most interesting Kaavads was designed as learning device for very young children. Colourful boxes of fun designs with pictures and alphabets brought back memories of innocent days of early childhood.   

Kaavad,, designed as learning device

After having seen different kaavads in detail I was spellbound by the collage of vibrant images that were individualistic yet versatile and had so much relevance even in today's times. There was evident proof of this craft having evolved over years. Traditionally known for being painted with bright coloured images of Gods and heroes, Kaavads were seen in white colour and some were designed as interesting device for learning. 

Kaavad, with interesting illustrations used for learning

My rendezvous with the artist Satya Narayan Suthar took me to completely different world where against the backdrop of story telling a sacred space of belonging between the people was evoked. A world where there was a beautiful synergy between the artist, his art form and the audience all intertwined creating one whole. 

Do you remember eons ago when there used to exist a colourful device called, bioscope that looked so intriguing that one could not resist being lost in its fascinating world? Meeting Kaavad artist Satya Narayan Suthar transported me to that magical world instantly and I could not be blamed for not wanting to come back to reality!