A home away home!

Perhaps since my parents migrated away from ’their’ home as a young couple to make their lives, they are always nostalgic. They are nostalgic about their childhood, their culture, their festivals (ulsavams), even their language-malayalam. This nostalgia has been surviving 35 years though they have accepted Mumbai as a second home. The padams(fields) and the ancestral home have been left behind only physically.

The acquisition of an ‘own’ space in Mumbai was a long journey for them. Beginning with humble earnings, it took them some years before they bought their first house after living in staff quarters of the company my dad worked. Aesthetically this place never satisfied them owing to comparisons with their home in Kerala. There was no open space. We had to share space and rooms with each other. It was not even comfortable as the previous quarters which were considerably huge and in the middle of a forested area-it was much closer to their idea of a home. But now they owned this place. Mom began her process of conversion of space. (a little bit of Kerala in Mumbai)She added a balcony garden, a little fish tank, and some openable grills with flower creepers to our two BHK flat.(elaborate) Dad’s collection of wooden masks, Karnatic music cassettes and mom’s Krishna and Ganesh idols soon occupied the walls and shelves of our new house in neat organised displays. It became customary for them henceforth to carry a part of Kerela- a lamp, a brass vessel, a mask- back after our annual vacation there. That was our idea of vacation- visiting home.

We as children were to speak in Malayalam compulsorily. A habit which still continues. The language forms one of the biggest connections with their home. And this was their only bridge to their belonging, which they insisted we inherited. And perhaps of all the rules set for our childhood, this was the only one we never resisted. This extended to the dictatorship of Malayalam television and movies in our home.

The only explosion that existed in this Mumbai Keralite home was the room shared by me and my sister. School books, novels, pop-magazines, paintings, posters, some interesting discards occupied a clusterish and revolutionary existence only in our room. The room was a confusion, a mixture and exploration. Both me and my sister, had inherited the tradition of carrying back a piece of the place on a travel, thus our travels started contributing to the décor of the house-not without resistance or debate most of the time. And sometimes blantant disapproval at the nature of the souvenir.

An important character in our home is the telephone. The telephone forms the only tangible form of communication for my parents with their kith and kin. Investing in telephones has always been my dad’s obsession. Each room has a telephone connection, inspite of being a small and accessible home.

Often I have wondered while growing up, if this nostalgia was triggered by the anxiety of alienation they faced in a city with a very different culture. However their eclectic set of friends negate this idea. Also their tolerance of our multi-cultural value system. This city was definitely a new home-where they got opportunities to fulfil their dreams. Along with adapting a 800sq ft apartment into a home filled with archives of their memories of their home, the new city was accepted and loved for its own reasons. However the eternal nostalgia of what they left, lies etched in their lives and on the surfaces our home.

Of Marriages and Profits

I love our Big Fat Indian weddings. The colourful mandaps and the phera-chori, the mehendi and the mithai, the glittering bridal nathni and the bridegroom’s sehra, the kanyadaan and the bidaai – all of these are exciting yet intimate moments shared between family and friends.

Does the rest of India also love it? Perhaps it does, both in real and reel life. The two-decade long obsession and popularity with the elaborate Indian wedding is easily apparent in Bollywood movies and satellite television, attracting audiences by the millions. The import of this is not lost on the image-makers branding Wedding as a luxury product to be consumed in vast proportions.

One often sees advertisements using the backdrop of the Indian Wedding against which to position their products. From sarees, jewellery, suit materials to bank insurances, from lifestyle accessories to food items – Indian weddings have them all.

Take the advertisement for Met Life Insurance against the backdrop of an Indian wedding. The bride-groom and his family members dance to a song about a life insurance that secures his family’s future. A plethora of advertising in India today, uses the Indian wedding as a metaphor of permanence and security. It is interesting that the Indian wedding that has brought home the language of banking and insurance! So life insurance has become kind of ‘cool conversation’ and a much needed vibrancy has entered its discourse. India after all is the least insured country in the whole world!

Let’s do a flashback scenario in a stereotypical context where a young couple is shown nodding to the formalities of the insurance policy. It is almost impossible to get anyone on a rational platform today, leave alone explain benefits! We live after all in an image driven society! Today, many related products with or without any matrimonial implication ride on the Indian wedding as a backdrop. The question is not whether these ads are successful or not, but how marriage as a sign helps connect people to products and brands.

Other products like the fairness cream – e.g Vicco turmeric or the Raymond suitings too have explored the wedding themes. For example the jingles of “banno teri ankhiyan” that were played in the oldest Vicco ads were an anthem in those days and all one could remember were around twenty women applying haldi to the bride. Also, the Titan ad showing a young girl playing the piano for her sister was designed along similar lines. More than the brands, the jingles, the context, the gaze, the expressions have not been forgotten.

A recent survey shows that there is an increase in the new age ‘live in’ relationships. Well, our advertising certainly seems to be replaying the good old stable institution of marriage. One wonders if marriage has become as much of a ‘product’ as are the brands themselves. Either way, the brands are laughing all the way to the bank! Marriage anyone?

Waterless boating?

The earthy colored complex of Sarkhej Roza at Ahmedabad generally covered by a people like photographers, architecture students or historians, will now be seen overflowing with ‘aam admi’. They will admire the beauty of the monument sitting in bright colored boats, relishing sev puris and Pani Puris at the laari walas. This imperial necropolis is soon to undergo a face lift .So where is the problem? Well, the facelift will be seen in the form of boating activities in Ahmedsar Lake; the dry water body of Sarkhej Roza complex.

Covering a huge area of 50,000 sq.mts, Ahmedsar Lake or this water body requires a minimum of two crore gallons of water to be filled. This has not been available over last few years because of the insufficient rainfall. In spite of being aware of the present condition of the lake which houses nothing but plastic waste, the authorities of Sarkhej Roza seem quite convinced by their decision. Also, the boom in the real estate market has suddenly sprouted to a rash of high rise apartments and offices in the vicinity of the lake resulting in blockage of adjoining water catchment areas. Ironically, amongst these buildings stands one of the biggest media houses of Gujarat which is publicizing the ‘heritage’ of Sarkhej Roza!

Earlier the water of the lake was so clean that it was used for waju by the worshippers. Today, the lake is in a deteriorated state. “It is the work of AUDA (Ahmedabad Urban Development Authority) and AMC (Ahmedabad Municipal Corporation) to take care of the plastic wastes”, informs Mr. Qadri, member of Sarkhej Roza Committee when asked about the planned boating activities in the lake. The boating activities will definitely increase the visitors to the monument but success cannot be evaluated only through quantity. “Does large number of people flocking to a place make it successful; yes at some level it does. But one also needs to understand what it does to that place. What kind of urbanity are we talking about here?” exclaimed Aniket Bhagwat; city based Landscape Architect when asked about his opinion about the new ‘development’ of Ahmedsar Lake.

In addition to this, some of the part of the lake would also get converted into a wetland. “Inspite of nothing being done for the lake, there are a lot of migratory birds migrating to the lake every year. We would not want to destroy that. We have been trying to get into discussions with expert as to how we can develop this into a wetland,” informed Bhavna Ramrakhiani, a city based social activist when asked about the upliftment.

So one is still skeptical as to how these distinct activities will simultaneously work together. It seems that boating is the only easy option left with the authorities to develop the water body.

Looking at the present scenario of the lake, even Ganj Baksh Khattu, Sufi Saint to which Sarkhej Roza monument is dedicated, resting in his mausoleum would laugh at the Sultans of Gujarat who had built a pleasure palace on the lake bank to enjoy the summers.

To be a Rat or a Pied Piper is the question: On ‘The art of collecting’ at the 2011 India Art Summit, New Delhi

The Speaker’s Forum at the ‘India Art Summit, 2011’, in the stately Pragati Maidan, flagged off the event with a conglomeration of artists, curators, writers as well as critics who discussed and deliberated upon the nodal issues in art and art practices. Art collection was a significant topic in the forum and was led by Mr. Anupam Poddar , leading members of the Devi Art Foundation and Mr. Swapan Seth, managing partner, and directors, Henry S Clark.

Swapan, a passionate art collector, began by establishing an interesting juxtaposition between two types of collectors namely rat and pied pipers. “Rats breed on buzz while the pied pipers buy instinctively and are courageous. Rats follow blindly while the pied pipers buy ideas and acumen,” he said. Swapan himself has rarely bought his works from the galleries. “I acquire 99% of my collection online.” He believes in experimenting with his collections and has included young artists like Pushkar Thakore, Atul Dodiya, Natraj Sharma, Abhishek Hazra, Nita Dubey, and Aisha Shutoy in his collections. Notable amongst these is the work of Suchita Gherot titled as 1000 tears, in which the artist had collected a solution similar to tears and filled in 1000 bottles labeling a different expression to each bottle. Apart from installations, Swapan has an interesting collection of Iconic photographs of Madonna, Hussain etc. “I love collecting photographs with iconic moments,”! A self-proclaimed techno geek, he is in awe of the creative possibilities of the “I – Pad” technology.

Anupam Poddar followed, with collections of his mother, Lekha Poddar’s work and presented his own too. According to him, “Good collection is based on many factors like courage, the work, mediums and the idea explore,” However, despite his intent to buy the works of unknown artists, ironically, his range of artists collection included the big artists like Subodh Gupta, Anita Dubey, Sudarshan Shetty Rashid Rana , Sonia Khurawa, Susanta Mandal, Ganga devi Bhatt to name a few. Along with the gigantic installations of a dinosaur by Susarshan Shetty, there was also a unique collection of textiles and videos, as were many paintings and installations by various other artists seen in the offices at Devi Art Foundation, Gurgaon. Interestingly, both the presenters also displayed a collection of the works of Pakistani artists. “The work happening in Pakistan at this level is remarkable,” insisted Anupam, while answering one of the questions from the audience.

So is there an ‘art’ in collecting? Well, there is, obviously a strong artistic impulse, when one chooses to collect, since one has to be courageous enough to believe in the artist especially when the artist is young and a new entrant in the art world. One has to be receptive enough to new ideas and be prepared for some of them to not work at the end of the day. So the question that was left behind for the art collectors was, does it pay to be a rat or a pied piper? Well, the truth is the rats are the ones who rule the Art Market but somehow the pied pipers too, do manage to get their share, in a win-win situation for all. Long live the Arts and the Art collectors!

Meet me at the ‘Pol ‘on a Sunday morning

With a sketchbook in hand, a camera on the shoulder and money in their pocket,-three strangers of varied age groups chance upon one another at the Desai Ni Pol in Ahmedabad.

The eldest of them is a grandfather from the western part of the city, another, an architect but a writer and the youngest of them is a curious, school going teenager, precocious and image conscious. The only common factor between them is their journey to discover the heritage in the older preccints of Ahmedabad, where the famous Pol houses meander through the winding streets of the old city. Their intentions well spelt, their journey begins from the entrance to the Desai Ni Pol. A conversation seeker, the architect asks the grandfather, Did you know that, Ahmedabad was built on a flat surface of the earth with few water bodies in or near it? It seems clear that river Sabarmati became the key feature in the formation of the city and most of its dominant elements are located on the eastern bends of the river. What do you think about it Sir? Deeply engrossed in observing the intricate detail of the carving on the 600 year old wooden bracket, the older manner affirms that it was indeed the river that caused a radial pattern of the streets. Developed during the reign of Mohammad Begada, the city gates were connected with the Central area, the present Jumma Masjid and the Manek Chowk. Also within these fort walls, various areas were handed over to the commanders to develop into self sufficient housing units which today are gloriously, called Pols.

Weren’t these pols called purs? Asked the precocious teenager in an ‘all-knowing’ tone. It was much later that it came to be known as pols since the houses were compactly organized in the meandering dead end streets”, he ends with an air of confidence. The architect benevolently adds to his knowledge, “This is because of the political and communal insecurity that forced the people of the city to seek internal security in these streets where they grouped themselves into small communities based on religion and caste.”

The exploring trio now reaches the interiors of the Pols, and find themselves in front of a brightly colored wooden entrance door. “Well, this, 250 yr old house of a Soni Community is declared as a Heritage House by the Ahmedabad Municipal Corporation,” announces the architect authoritatively. The grandfather in the meanwhile, discovers that the idol of Lord Ganesh, kept in the niche next to the door, is the oldest idol in the entire pol! The teen is fascinated by the beauty of the door as he feels reluctant to enter through it. He queries, “Why is there a courtyard in the centre of the house?” To which the architect explains, “A typical pol house generally opens towards a central courtyard which provides all its light and ventilation and forms the focus of the house.”

“And that central courtyard is where, where Brahma resides. He showers knowledge through his light”, pipes in the eldest family member of the Soni house. The grandfather emotionally moved to see a joint family system still prevailing in a “small” house. The teen is flabbergasted as he fails to find the bourgeoisie living room, dining room, and kitchen; forget about a separate children room! As they enter the first floor through a wooden staircase, the architect is dumbstruck by the beauty of a tall blue colored wooden window. The projected balconies open out to the colorful streets giving an unblocked view of the low rise houses.

“The definition of “privacy” is very different for the Pol community my boy’ explains the grandfather to the teen while leaving the house. Armed with photographs, conversations and the warmth of the people, the, the trio continues towards more such armaments.

The architect makes a note of a full size blue colored windows, the underground water tank for water harvesting and the intricate carving on the entrance door. They pass through many wooden carved facades and huge brightly colored entrance doors. “The domestic architecture of the walled city of Ahmedabad is typified by the use of wooden elements, starting with the threshold platform, that includes columns, beams and brackets”, explains the architect. “Also, most of the architectural elements are wooden and carved in various degrees of intricacies”, adds the grandfather.

The kids in the pol follow them excited and awaiting their turn to be photographed, while the aged ones on the otlas (the concrete platforms outside the houses) watch, undisturbed and with an air of déjà vu., only to stir a bit as they sense their routine getting interrupted. As they move further, they are interrogated by many and welcomed by some like Mr. Himanshu Mehta whose house is like a museum. “I have seen this house before. I suppose this has been shown in the famous movie, Gandhi – My Father”, exclaims the teen. “You are absolutely right. Some part of our living room has been shown in the movie”, declares Himanshu Mehta with pride.

The house is a double-storeyed structure with a double height central court sporting a swing in the middle, surrounded by rooms on both the floors “It seems you have taken a lot of care to restore your house,” marvels the grandfather as he checks out the details on the rod of the antique swing. “Yes I have. This is a 300 year old house .It’s as precious as my kids”, informs Mr. Mehta. “We did shift to the western part of the city for four years but we opted to come back. It was unthinkable to live anywhere but here. After all, home is where the heart is”, adds Mrs. Mehta.

The house has large bedrooms even larger bath rooms with a tinge of antique interiors .As they walk around in the house the teen exclaims in disbelief, “A separate room just for to keep utensils!!!”

“Well, these are not just bronze vessels. It’s a collection of my great grand fathers that has been preserved and restored. Some of them are even older than this house!” says Mehta rather grandly. Impressed by the care and detailing in preserving objects and the architecture in the house, an attempt is made to try and find a discordant note. “But don’t you find the kitchen smaller as compared to other areas of your house?” asks the architect. Mrs. Mehta is quick in her repartee, “Not really. There is an existing chimney and we never had to provide any exhaust. Plus the living area is too spacious to experience any such commotion.

The trio move on, very touched by the hospitality of the Mehtas. “They are too sweet to us. I would never allow someone to enter my house at their own convenience.” Announces the grandfather. As they near the end of their journey, they come across a beautiful Hanuman temple. The temple priest informs them that this is no common temple but is a VISA temple! “If you have problems regarding your passport, visa or any other documents then all you have to do is place the documents in front of Lord Hanuman and you are sure to get your VISA”, enlightens the pujari.

The architect and his two friends take the Lord’s blessing from the VISA temple. Their journey ended, they part ways and return to the new City. One cannot help pondering about the impact of the Pol visit on the trio. Will the grandfather continue to rue over the thriving joint family system? Will the teen now consider ‘sharing his room with his siblings? Will the architect ever be able to see a life beyond eaves and brackets? Or will they ever think about the fact that the Pols brought them together in conversations that are far and few in the new city? The Pol houses are a living testimony to the imaginations of community living, of a passion for workmanship, preservation of memories, and legacies, and respect for life as continuity, like the Sabarmati river that no longer exists as water, but lives through the meandering streets of the Pol houses.

‘Everyday India’ on a Collage : India Art Summit - 2011

The exhibits at the India Art Summit left me gasping for some more understanding, till I stopped at Ketana Patel’s exhibit. I had found my connection! She was witty, very ‘everyday India’, and just what my young heart and mind craved for, a vibrancy and a way to understand my country through art. Her pop art in mixed media in a collage of photographs was used so well on her exhibits. The use of reds, yellows and orange gave her work a prominence even from a distance. Her use of ‘India’ was excellently exemplified through some of her works like in the case of the ‘Nano’ that was exhibited outside the hall, and accompanied by the punchline, ‘Stop, Indians Ahead’. The use of bright ceramic blocks in the interior as well as exterior of the car seemed like a take on the distinctive Indiandecorative sense. Satire seemed to underline her documentation of the everyday in India. Pictures of trucks, taxis, cycles and rickshaws all piled up, interesting details like the car numbers that have cultural coding, the bi-lingual write ups on vehicles, distance in kilometers were all juxtaposed in a play and riot of bright Indiancolours. A particulary interesting exhibit of a woman labourer caught my attention. Ketana had captured the smile on her face, made up by a bright red coloured lipstick in sharp contrast to her real life persona. The intention seemed to be to play with excesses in a hyperbolic sense and capture the unbelievable in everyday IndiaKetana’s intentions were clarified through her collage, and she seemed to enjoy her artistic capturing of life in India.

The Evening when I ‘welcomed Zindagi’…..

Why does a title ‘Welcome Zindagi’ conjure images of a multi-speciality hospital in Gujarat, and a climax of tear drops and sad faces dramatically transformed into welcoming life, I wondered. Did I connect with a new sense of hope that the new face of Gujarat was giving me? Or was I being a cliché’d and bollywoodish?

My thoughts were interrupted with the announcement of the play itself. The first five minutes was about the clockwork life of most middle class families in Mumbai,depicted beautifully through music, actions and inventive props. It seemed like an interesting theatrical device to depict a mundane life routine. The story went like this: A Mumbai based Gujarati family of Ganatra’s had shifted from Kathiawar a long time ago. The characters were, ArunGanatra (Saumya Joshi),a clerk about to retire, BhanuGanatra (JignaVyas),his wife and mother of VivekGanatra (Abhinav Banker and their MBA (emphasis on the MBA!) son.Bhanu occupied the stage in a solo act, emphasized by a constant focus of the spot light, for twenty minutes, describing her husband’s routine in a funny Kathiawar accent

The story revolved around Arun, Bhanu and Vivek.. Arun, a less ambitious fatherhad fixed notions about life and was proud of his struggle that he insisted on talking about every now and then. On the other hand,Vivekvisualized himself as a successful business man, involving risks and money. Bhanuwas the silent spectator to these two companions in her life. Her humorous comments were the only perceivable connections one could draw with Arun and Vivek. The father and son had not communicated for years, and as the play describes, ‘due to lack of time’, not even on Sundays.. Father and Son shared a very formal,functional and dutiful relationship

The twist in this seemingly placid, middle-class existence takes place, when Vivek needs a large sum of money to start his business and is reluctant to ask his father. Bhanurefuses to speak on behalf of Vivek.Lot of arguments, discussions and disputes erupt, as Vivek tries to convince his father about the credibility of his business plans. These discussions worsen, and Vivekfinds himself forced to leave his house.Arun’sego, restrains him from calling up his son and leaves him out of his retirement function too.The headstrong Vivek does not pay any heed to his mother’spleas to attend the function. But Nature plays a role and the event gets cancelled due to heavy rains in Mumbai. Interesting invocation of the Gods at this juncture in the narrative!

The climax of the play is anextremely poignant farewell speech by Arunthat he recites in front of Bhanu. From thanking Bhanu for always being there for him, to finally expressing his love for Vivek – he expressesin a soulful manner emphasizing the importance of giving time to one’s children and prioritize one’s personal life and most importantly the need to communicate with one’s loved ones.Vivek who hears the entire speech from the front door entersthe house and hugs his father. Needless to say, this reunion iswelcomed with a huge round of applause and watery eyes from the audience.

Nothing dramatically different from those many narratives across films, plays, books that deal with this agonizingtheme of growing isolation in urban living in India, I think. But what stirred me up was the fact that something as clichédand as oft-repeated a theme as this, continues to affect us and make us underline the significance of love, relationships, communication and families. We never seem to have enough of this theme and clearly never will. Maybe its time to ‘Welcome Zindagi’ and say no to living apart from one another!