From pre-wedding shoots to the selection of bridal outfits, the stress, especially on the bride-to-be, is tremendous.
Shaharabanu shows one of the many bridal outfits which is available at The Rainbow Free Bridal Boutique, opened just weeks ago | Express
Madikeri :
From pre-wedding shoots to the selection of bridal outfits, the stress, especially on the bride-to-be, is tremendous. It is the day when she hopes to look her most beautiful.
However, not every bride can afford a dream wedding, and many young women are forced to stick to simple and inexpensive wear. The Rainbow Free Bridal Boutique in Kodagu is taking these weddings up by a notch. Established by Shaharabanu (20), the Free Bridal Boutique is just weeks old, and operates from the rural part of Chettalli in Madikeri taluk.
Shaharabanu, who quit studies after completing PU examinations last year, is a YouTuber, and had also worked as a beautician for some time. The strong calling to do charity work has manifested itself in the form of this boutique.
“I always looked forward to doing charity work, but my family is not very well-to-do. Financial hurdles are many. However, a unique initiative has been started by one of my friends in Kerala, which led to the establishment of the Rainbow Free Bridal Boutique, a first of its kind in Karnataka,” explained Shaharabanu.
So, what is so unique about this boutique? It provides free bridal dresses to brides from economically weaker sections of society. “Weddings are very special to girls, and almost every girl dreams of wearing a special outfit on that day. However, many cannot afford these bridal outfits, and hence, I started a boutique to collect bridal clothes from women from rich families,” she explained.
She laid out her plan on social media platforms and received positive feedback and support. Responding to her social media post, many women donated their wedding attire, like sarees which they had worn for their own nuptials, and fancy outfits from their trousseau.
The clothes were collected and dry cleaned. “I have collected many wedding clothes, some even from my family members. These clothes will be handed over to brides from weaker sections of society, including orphaned girls who are unable to afford wedding clothes,” she said.
“Our generation is very active on social media and we often make new friends virtually. A WhatsApp group of like-minded girls who were on Instagram was created almost a year ago. In the group, one of the girls, who was poor, requested us to help her out for her wedding,” recalls Shaharabanu.
However, she felt helpless with her family’s meagre earnings, since her parents, Ameena and Maanu from Chettalli, are daily wage workers. Despite the impediments, the girls managed to collect funds and bought their friend a new bridal outfit, she added.
Following the incident, she realised that many girls face this challenge before their wedding, which the girls discussed in the group. That is when one of the girls from Kerala informed her about a boutique that donates bridal dresses to girls from poor families. “This boutique was started by a Kannur resident, Sabeeda, and I contacted her for support. Initially, when everyone was reluctant to donate their bridal wear to my boutique, Sabeeda helped me and brought many dresses all the way from Kannur to Chettalli,” she recalled.
When dresses were donated to a couple of poor girls, residents from Madikeri and Virajpet came forward and donated their bridal outfits. “My house is small. I had to make space to keep the dresses without damaging them. I bought a shelf for this purpose which is in my mother’s room, where the dresses are kept neatly,” she said. “It has been just 15 days since I started the boutique. There is no bar on religion or community of the brides. They can book the service and visit my place in Chettalli to select the dresses they want from what’s available. They can keep the outfits for themselves. This service is for those brides across the state who are battling economic hardship,” she said.
To ensure that the dresses reach the needy, she asks the beneficiary to submit a letter from the religious committees concerned, about the family’s financial situation. In just two weeks, more than 40 brides from across the state contacted the boutique, and Shaharabanu is working towards making their weddings special. “I ask the girls to visit my place 20 days prior to the wedding day. Their happy faces when they find the right bridal dress give me immense pleasure and satisfaction,” she added.
source: http://www.newindianexpress.com / The New Indian Express / Home> Good News/ by Prajna GR, Express News Service / April 24th, 2022
Anthologist and translator Dasu Krishnamoorty’s ebook ‘The Greatest Telugu Stories Ever Told’ gives a tapestry of Telugu experiences for readers.
The Greatest Telugu Stories Ever Told (Aleph Book Company) provides us a glimpse into the huge Telugu literary realm. Spanning virtually a century of literary works by a number of the most interesting writers of short tales, the gathering mirrors the Telugu-speaking individuals’s perspective of the world.
Co-authored by anthologist and translator Dasu Krishnamoorty along with his daughter Tamraparni Dasu, the anthology incorporates works of 21 writers, proper from Chalam and Kanuparthi Varalakshmamma to Vempalli Gangadhar and Vempalle Shareef.
Influence on society
Elaborating on the factors in choosing the tales, the writers say they seemed for brokers of change. “Vempalle Shariff’s ‘Curtain’, for example, is a diatribe against the norms that keep Muslim women behind a curtain of patriarchy and prevent them from participating in the wider society. Sometimes, the story is so compelling in its cathartic message that it requires no other reason than its merit to be included.
‘Mother’s Debt’ (Mohammed Khadeer Babu) and ‘Predators’ (Syed Saleem) both highlight the wretched lives of those compelled to live in poverty at the edges of society,” says 93-year-old Krishnamoorty, connecting with us from New Jersey.
On selecting works of writers like Kanuparthi, Illindala Saraswati Devi, Achanta Sarada Devi and Chalam — who wrote about social inequity — Krishnamoorty says the brand new technology of writers continues to push that battle ahead in new instructions and develop into energetic devices of social change, as evidenced by Boya Jangiah, Jajula Gowri and others. “Writers alone cannot cause a change but are certainly a big part of the process,” he says.
On being requested if some writers are both overrated or underrated, Tamraparni responds, “All the writers in the anthology, and many more that could not be included, deserve their reputation and accolades. The younger ones are perhaps underrated simply because the world doesn’t know of them yet. We hope that our anthology helps them gain the recognition they deserve.”
Diverse works
The anthology consists of works by six Muslims, 5 ladies and 5 Dalits. Krishnamoorthy says their goal was to provide a platform for the varied assortment of expertise significantly in underrepresented communities. “Telugu Muslims have always been a beacon of literary excellence. Only they can write with such passion and knowledge about their lived experience that comes through with such heart-wrenching intensity in ‘Adieu, Ba’ and ‘A Mother’s Debt’,” he provides.
Speaking of the challenges in translating, Tamraparni says, “Translation is inherently tricky; matching the idiom of the original with an equivalent one in English, rather than a literal translation; finding the equivalent of unique words, for example a word like ‘ thaayilam’ (a special treat, typically sweet, for a child) in Dada Hayat’s ‘The Truant’; retaining the voice of the original writer intact; avoiding the temptation to editorialise or tamp down unorthodox content as in Chalam’s ‘Madiga Girl’; how to preserve the musicality of the original language, as in ‘Molakala Punnami’.”
Describing working together with her father as a excessive octane expertise, Tamraparni says story choice was a degree of rivalry. “Some of the differences were generational, and some were temperamental. We agreed on most stories but there were four or five that needed energetic debate,” she provides.
Support system
Krishnamoorty had moved to the US to dwell along with his daughter’s household after he misplaced his spouse and there, he discovered translation a solution to keep engaged to tide over the powerful interval. “He brought an amazing level of intensity and enthusiasm to it even though he was almost 80 at that time,” says Tamraparni who alongside together with her father, launched a literary non-profit organisation, IndiaWrites Publishers, to assist the interpretation of up to date Indian short fiction into English. Together additionally they revealed a month-to-month on-line literary journal, Literary Voices of India, for a number of years. And 15 years later, the father-daughter duo revealed their second anthology The Greatest Telugu Stories Ever Told.
”I’m grateful that translation has given me such a stimulating and rewarding expertise to share with my father,” says Tamraparni.
Dr. Shamsheer Vayalil, Chairman and Managing Director of VPS Healthcare Group, has announced a donation of AED1 million to the 1 Billion Meals initiative, the largest of its kind in the region, which aims to assist and provide sustainable food support to the underprivileged and most needy groups in 50 countries in the Middle East, North Africa and the world – in particular children, refugees, displaced persons, and victims of disasters and crises.
The 1 Billion Meals initiative, organised by the Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum Global Initiatives (MBRGI), provides food support in coordination with the United Nations’ World Food Programme (WFP), the Food Banking Regional Network (FBRN), the Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum Humanitarian and Charity Establishment (MBRCH), the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), the UAE Food Bank, as well as a number of local charity and humanitarian organisations in beneficiary countries.
Dr. Shamsheer Vayalil said: “We are honoured to contribute to the 1 Billion Meals initiative organised by MBRGI to provide aid and relief to those undernourished, which supports the global battle against hunger and represents the values of the UAE and its wise leadership in giving and expanding the scope of humanitarian work. This is especially true given the escalation of the global hunger crisis and the increase in the number of people affected by it, especially children, refugees, displaced persons, and victims of disasters and crises.”
The initiative, organised by the Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum Global Initiatives (MBRGI), is a continuation of last year’s 100 Million Meals campaign, which ended up distributing 220 million meals, prompting the new goal of one billion meals.
Donors can contribute to the 1 Billion Meals initiative through the following donation channels – the campaign’s official website: www.1billionmeals.ae; bank transfer to the campaign’s account at Emirates NBD, number: AE300260001015333439802.
Donors can also opt to donate AED1 a day through a monthly subscription by sending “Meal” or “وجبة” via SMS to 1020 on the du network or 1110 on the Etisalat network.
Donations can also be made through campaign’s call centre via a toll-free number 8009999.
Becoming the youngest female lifter wasn’t an easy task but Maryam Mohammed’s focus helped her achieve it
Maryam Mohammed lifting weight during the tournament
Bengaluru:
Among the many champions who participated in the event, it was 13-year-old Maryam Mohammed who became the youngest female lifter to set a deadlift record in the Push-Pull Championship. Sports establishment Professional Raw organised the first championship at Onyx Fitness which Mohammed was a part of. There were over 300 athletes from across the country who registered themselves for the event.
It’s not the first win for the young lifter either. Speaking to CE, she says, “It’s the fourth competition that I have won so far. I started powerlifting two and half years ago, when the pandemic started and schools went online.” Her father, Mohammed Azmat, who is a powerlifter himself, has been doing it for over three decades now. “He’s my biggest inspiration. He’s the one who trains me and my younger brother has also started participating in competitions now,” Mohammed says.
She spends her weekdays on school work and uses her weekends to train. The basement of their home has been converted into a gym set-up which has helped her practice more. “I know there are many strong people out there but all I do is focus on the bar and just lift it. There’s nothing else to do,” she says, adding that her younger brother is more focused, something she is working on.
While Mohammed is hoping to get better and win more awards, her father encourages another strategy. “Medals can always be achieved but if they grow up without character, it won’t be of any use,” he says, pointing out that Mohammed always grew up watching him practice in their home set-up. “After she was born, my wife needed my help at home. So, I set up a gym to spend more time at home. Maryam grew up watching me lift weights and when she was finally ready, she showed interest,” he explains.
He adds that neither of the children was ‘forced’ into following in their father’s footsteps. “Seeing them be happy with what they want to do is what I encourage them to follow. They were never forced to follow my footsteps but it’s definitely an icing on top for them to have shown interest,” Azmat says.
source: http://www.newindianexpress.com / The New Indian Express / Home> Cities> Bengaluru / by Anila Kurian, Express News Service / April 18th, 2022
Making amends for wrongs done requires compassion and a human touch, says Sandeep Virmani of Hunnarshala Foundation
In 2013, Muzaffarnagar in Uttar Pradesh experienced one of the worst communal riots in recent history. Some 62 people died and more than 50,000 were displaced.
Hunnarshala Foundation helped resettle about 250 families who could not return to their original villages. It was a challenging project for the not-for-profit organisation, which has been working with communities in the area of housing and infrastructure for over 20 years now.
Muzaffarnagar Diaries: A Post-Riot Resettlement Story talks of how the project fell in place. Sandeep Virmani, Executive Vice-Chairman of Hunnarshala, spoke about the importance of empathetic resettlement in the context of this project. Excerpts from the interview:
What is the magnitude of the problem of internally displaced persons (IDPs) in India?
IDPs are people displaced from their homes and communities due to natural disasters, conflicts or development projects. In India, at any given point, we have between 40 lakh and 80 lakh people living in camps, away from home. Of these, about 20,000 are displaced due to conflicts — ethnic, armed, communal, or even targeted violence. India consistently features in the 10 worst affected countries in the world. Conflict victims are the worst hit since invariably, the state is involved in abetting violence or allowing it to happen. For this reason, unlike after natural disasters, very few people come forward to help.
How does Indian law fall short when it comes to reparative justice, especially for victims of incidents such as the 2002 Gujarat riots or the 2013 Muzaffarnagar riots?
Unlike cross-border refugees, IDPs don’t have any rights. Even though the Constitution requires the state to take responsibility for the safety of its citizens, there are no laws, policies, or statutory frameworks for reparative justice. The UN has ‘The Guiding Principles on Internal Displacement’ but these are not binding. Consequently, almost every such event requires the intervention of the courts to provide justice.
Ruins of a house in Kutba, Muzaffarnagar, after the riots.
The government grants compensation; ₹15 lakh was given per family after the Muzaffarnagar riots. But you call this the ‘compensation trap’?
Invariably, governments directed by the courts want to weigh the losses of IDPs financially and get away with compensation. While compensation for families who lost a member was raised to ₹15 lakh, displaced families who will never be able to return to their villages got ₹5 lakh. But making amends for wrongs done, so that the scars of displacement and loss are healed, requires compassion and a human touch. It requires apology, handholding until they are physically settled, integrated into a new society, so that they and their children can let go of fear. The shock and betrayal, sometimes even unfounded guilt, never leaves one.
When you took up this project, you went to Kutba to see the ruins of the destroyed homes. Can you talk a bit about the ‘culture of spaces’?
The design and skills used in building homes is the collective cultural expression of a community’s values. When you lose everything, you look for hope in two places: community and expression. The process of rebuilding provides both. However, after incidents like the Muzaffarnagar and Shamli riots, most families were scattered in unfamiliar places. It became difficult for them to get new homes. Most used the compensation to rebuild livelihoods and get some land but could not build homes. We helped the community procure land together, so that they were reunited. Giving a house is charity; one is grateful, but it doesn’t rebuild lost confidence. And, invariably, donors and governments give ‘modern’ houses, disregarding cultural moorings.
We wanted to understand their histories, ways of living, skills, aesthetic expressions, identities, before we facilitated the rehabilitation. So, we went to their old village in Kutba. It was difficult; there was fear of the dominant Hindu community, at whose hands they had experienced betrayal, violence, death. People with whom they had lived over generations, people who had convinced them not to migrate to Pakistan in 1947. A mason named Nawab finally agreed to take us there with police escort.
The central stairway in a new house built in Kairana, Shamli district (the ‘chulha’ or stove keeps changing places).
We found a unique lifestyle. For example, the khat (bed) determines the width of the veranda and even the staircase (it is carried to the first floor). The chulha (stove) shifts through the year from kitchen to veranda to courtyard. The old men sit at the juncture of street and house in a unique space called the ‘gallery’. The mother-in-law sits at the other end of the gallery, at a spot from where she can see every part of the house. The sitting room must be accessed straight from the street through a separate door. The houses always have potential for expansion to make room for newly-weds. Families make intricate patterns on coloured cement oxide floors with stencils made from newspapers. They mould concrete into aesthetic forms. The more elaborate the gate, the more the prestige… we found many such features.
A new house in Arya Puri, Muzaffarnagar district, for a rehabilitated family. The house incorporates the classic archways and verandah and makes room for the all-important ‘khats’ (cots).
Your book speaks of how the villagers rejected open-brick facades for painted concrete. Is it a challenge to promote low-cost or green building in the hinterland?
On the contrary, villages are familiar with the advantages of, say, earthen walls or mud mortar for putting bricks together. It is possible to have an informed conversation with them, unlike urban people who reject such technologies based on bias or get fixated on a technology even when not appropriate. In rural homes, many parts of the house are left unplastered due to lack of funds, so exposed material has a different connotation — it means poverty. That is why they wanted to plaster and colour their walls.
Western UP is a seismic zone, but existing building practices are poor due to lack of resources; there is hardly any foundation, very thin mud mortar walls hold up heavy roofs. One shudders to think of earthquakes. We insisted on increasing costs by 15-20% to ensure safe housing. The villagers are extremely proud of this; they say they have the strongest homes in the city now.
Sandeep Virmani of Hunnarshala Foundation.
What is the nature of the partnership you entered into with the community?
In Shamli, we signed an agreement with each family articulating the roles of the family, the rehabilitation committee, and our organisations. We financed one room, the staircase, and the sanitation. The families paid for the rest.
Misereor Germany gave funding and HT Parekh Foundation supported all sanitation work. It was the government’s responsibility to provide roads, water and electricity, but finally we had to raise money for that too. The villagers were extremely resourceful. They got cheap material and support from former employers. Many local people helped, including a supplier who not just gave extensive credit, but also cash when funding was delayed.
NGOs Sadbhavana and Vanangna supported the rehabilitation committee to ensure that children gave their board exams in their old exam centres and didn’t lose a year. We helped with enrolments into schools, new identity papers, and resuming pensions. We also conducted psycho-social counselling with the children to help them overcome the trauma of loss and separation.
You insisted, for instance, that women be part of the Rehabilitation Committee. Do you think such interventions can have a lasting impact on social mores?
When a big social upheaval happens, it provides opportunities for making paradigm shifts in social norms such as patriarchy. Women are ready to change their roles in a new location where everyone has to contribute; men are ready to turn a blind eye to women in unconventional roles. This provides women the opportunity to not only demonstrate their abilities but also assure men that it doesn’t threaten them. For instance, women are very good at bringing consensus on difficult decisions. It particularly helps the girl child, as they see what is happening and adopt the changes permanently.
And what did you in turn learn from these families?
Perhaps the biggest contribution from the IDPs of Muzaffarnagar has been the building of the daat chat or shallow domes. When we visited the old homes in Kutba, we saw an array of beautifully crafted roofs made with bricks. These roofs look flat but are in fact very shallow domes, where all the bricks are in compression. It allows for flattening the top of the roof and building another storey on top. The masons who build these roofs are expert craftsmen. The importance of the shallow dome roof is that it can reduce the use of cement and steel by 70-75%. This is important; these two contribute most to carbon emissions from the building industry. The roof is cheaper than RCC and more durable. We saw homes with roofs that are 300-400 years old!
We researched and tested the roofs for seismic safety and invited the artisans to share their knowledge at a national conference in Delhi. Since then, many architects are adopting the shallow dome. Artisans are invited to architecture schools to demonstrate and teach the next generation.
Perhaps this is a befitting recognition of a culture and a people who did not deserve to be violently removed from their ancestral homes.
vaishna.r@thehindu.co.in
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Society – In Conversation / by Vaishna Roy / April 16th, 2022
Passionate about photography: Aziz Mahdi, a Persian scholar, who teaches youngsters in Delhi
Aziz Mahdi, a Persian scholar, on how he balances his love for images and the language of his forefathers
To get us, in Delhi, at least a little bit curious about understanding Iran, Aziz Mahdi, a Delhi-ite who lived for a decade in Tehran, where he studied Persian and then taught the language, is showcasing a pictorial exhibition. On display are 40 photographs (selected arduously out of 50,000 images) in different sizes, of this West Asian nation that gives us a glimpse into its culture and history. Aziz, or Dr. Mahdi, as he is fondly called by his Iranian and Indian students in Tehran and Delhi, has used handmade German paper to print on, ensuring the pictures last a lifetime.
Little is known in India about Iran, barring its “political and bureaucratic side”. On the other hand, there’s a fair amount Iranians know about our country. “Some people think Iran is a desert country. Even my father’s friend asked me if I got adequate drinking water in Tehran. I had to explain to him that there are reservoirs all across the country.”
Travel tales
Between 2005 to 2016, when Aziz lived there, doing a Ph.D. at Tehran University, he would get asked questions relating to Amitabh Bachchan, Shah Rukh Khan and Salman Khan. He’s watched Sholay in Persian, while travelling on a bus there. “Most Iranians know that India is a nation of diversity and democracy. They describe India as Haftado do Mellat . In English, it would mean a nation of 72 ethnicities.”
Sheikh Lotfollah Mosque
As a history student at Jamia Millia Islamia in Delhi, Aziz had come across a classical dome of Persian architecture umpteen times in his textbooks. But the moment of seeing the Sheikh Lotfollah Mosque was something else. A perfect example of preserving heritage, it was built during the Safavid Empire, in the early 17th century, and has now been designated by UNESCO as a world heritage site.
“It was almost a surreal experience. Architecturally speaking, Sheikh Lotfollah Mosque has a perfect dome. Domes are usually uneven structures. It also has glazed tiles. It was a palace of princess; royal women would go through the tunnel and come back.”
Everyday life and some of the exotic
The exhibition has different aspects of daily life, along with architecture. There’s the Zoroastrian side of Iran with the Chakchak Fire temple; a ring seller leaning on his bike, the confidence in the way he wears his hat; the scissor-maker, an elderly man, with eyes sans pessimism, despite his years. Tehran as a cosmopolitan city comes through in a picture of a wedding where the bride and groom wear Western attire.
Early on, one of his friends gave him “sane advise” that if he wanted to be an Iranologist, he needed to know the country inside out. One way was to study it; the other, was through travel. “I explored this scenic country. However, I still like describing myself as a part Iranologist,” says the 36-year-old, who stands at six feet, four inches.
Persian heritage
Iranian Wedding
Aziz’s father, Akhtar Mahdi, retired as professor of Persian language and literature from JNU. “While growing up, I was guided by him and learnt how Persian is important from the historical perspective. From the 11th century onwards, all our official documents, land deeds of the State and historical texts were printed in Persian. So for 800 years, Persian was the official language until the Mughal rule ended and the British abolished it.”
In fact, Urdu is the daughter of Persian. “It was used during Nadir Shah’s military campaign. It was basically a camp language which was spoken by Persian and Turk soldiers.”
Musician playing a flute
He has roots in Persia too, with his forefathers migrating during the Mughal reign. As for photography, he’s dabbled since childhood, but he began taking it seriously only in Iran. “The sheer beauty of Iran supported the artist in me. Architecturally, it grabs the eye.”
Living in Delhi, where he was used to seeing smoky skies, Aziz was bowled over by blue skies of Tehran (also seen at the exhibition). “They were a welcome relief. Cleanliness and absolute stunning weather are other features of this country.”
His next step is to do a coffee table book. “Not many Indians have stayed in Iran for so long,” says Aziz, on a parting note.
Rowzaneh: Iran Through my Lens is on at the India International Centre Annexe until July 30th
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Entertainment> Art / by Madhu Tankha / July 26th, 2019
Hundreds of devotees attend the rathotsava (chariot or car festival) at the historic Chennakeshava temple in Belur, Hassan district of Karnataka on April 13, 2022. | Photo Credit: Prakash Hassan
Moulvi reads excerpts from the Quran (Koran) to mark the beginning of the rathotsava (chariot or car festival) at the historic Chennakeshava temple in Belur
“I have been participating in the festival for the last 50 years,” says Syed Sajjad Khaji of Dodda Meduru, who read out excerpts from the Quran (Koran) to mark the beginning of the rathotsava (chariot or car festival) at the historic Chennakeshava temple in Belur on April 13.
His forefathers had read out excerpts from the Quran (Koran) during the festival in the past, and his children would continue the tradition in future, he says. “Whether you read Bible, Bhagvad Gita or the Koran, all texts spread the same message,” he adds, philosophically.
While Karnataka has seen several instances of Muslims being barred from putting up shops during temple festivals, the rathotsava at the 900-year-old Chennakeshava temple struck a different note by staying with the syncretic tradition. The festival began only after the moulvi recited the Koran, a custom whose origins are not clearly known in the temple built by Hoysala rulers.
K. Vidyullatha, Executive Officer of the temple, said that the custom is mentioned in the temple manual, which dates back to 1932. “We are following the customs mentioned in the manual. I am told this tradition has been followed for centuries. According to the chief priest, the custom began with the objective of involving people of all religions in the festival,” the officer said.
The temple regularly gives foodgrains to the families that play a role in the festival, as per the manual.
The festival saw around 15 Muslim shopkeepers putting up stalls in the temple premises, with civil society groups putting pressure on the authorities not to exclude them.
Ahead of the festival, members of Vishwa Hindu Parishad and Bajrang Dal had submitted a memorandum to the taluk administration seeking a ban on Muslim traders during the festival. They demanded that no Muslim be allowed to put up stalls during the festival, like in temples in Shivamogga and Sirsi. They succeeded in closing a shop run by a Muslim in a building that belongs to the temple. The Executive Officer ordered closure of the shop citing the Karnataka Hindu Religious Institutions and Charitable Endowments Act, 2002, which restricts allotment of space in Hindu religious institutions to non-Hindus.
Later, members of Dalit Sangharsha Samiti, Communist Part of India (Marxist), Raitha Sangha and other progressive organisations organised processions in Hassan and Belur to put pressure on the district administration not to comply with the demands of the Hindutva organisations. They wanted the district administration to facilitate the temple festival in a harmonious manner and participation of every community in the event. Elected representatives of the district too stressed on the need for participation of all communities., resulting in permission for all entrepreneurs to set up stalls during the festival.
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> News> National> Karnataka / by The Hindu Bureau / Hassan, April 14th, 2022
Tall marble pillars frame photos, automobiles and more, as the Bhopal royals open up their past at the Jehan Numa Palace Hotel
Over the years, the Jehan Numa Palace in Bhopal — built on the slopes of the Shyamla Hills in 1890 by General Obaidullah Khan, commander-in-chief of the Bhopal State Force, and the second son of Nawab Sultan Jehan Begum — has worn many garbs.
The white marble edifice, which melds British Colonial, Italian Renaissance and Classical Greek architectural styles with facets of Art Deco, was constructed as the general’s office, and then used as his sons’ secretariat. After Independence, it became a government hostel, and later, the offices of the Geological Survey of India.
In 1983, after restoring the five-acre property, the general’s grandsons reopened it as a heritage hotel — its colonnaded corridors showcasing sepia-toned portraits, and the interiors housing rooms, four restaurants, two bars and a spa. Now, the pandemic has given it another facet: a museum, which came together almost like a “jigsaw puzzle”, says Faiz Rashid, director of the Jehan Numa Group of Hotels and a member of the Bhopal royal family.
Faiz Rashid
A colonnaded showcase
“[Over the last 20-odd months] we tried to come up with innovative ways to nurture hospitality. Because of the time on hand, we started looking at family archives and thought why not share the legacy with the world,” says Rashid. He tells me about putting together memorabilia: artefacts, attire, “lovely letters in Urdu” written to his great grandfather, documents, “invoices of the cars the royal family bought [like a Ford Phantom and a customised Bentley]” — all of which are now on show at the hotel.
“General Obaidullah Khan accompanied his mother, the last begum, on her foreign trips. He was inspired by different architectural styles, and the display is a pictorial history of the hotel’s evolution from the time it was built in the 19th century,” he says.
The corridors along the central courtyard, with its famed 100-year-old mango tree, were chosen as the ideal backdrop for the display. I take a virtual tour of the elegantly-framed archives, arranged in clusters on the walls of the chequered black-and-white marble and granite corridors, zooming into the photographs, and taking in glimpses of the life and times of a pre-Independence royalty that was progressive and involved, wealthy but not flamboyant, stylish but never garish.
From letters to thoroughbreds
The family took the help of Joe Alvarez, the well-known jazz singer who has written a coffee-table book on Bhopal, to curate the memorabilia.
“We divided them into nine subjects, starting with the four begums, the last nawab, dignitary visits, nawabi sports and the outdoors, and such,” says Alvarez, who has also generated a voice-over, and added a QR code to enable a Walk-In Museum audio guide.
The track at the Jehan Numa Palace Hotel
He expounds about the images of a thriving stud farm, something that continues till date (a trotting track set up when the hotel opened gives visitors a peek into the royal family’s passion for breeding thoroughbreds), of custom-built automobiles, branded guns and weapons, and official visits by dignitaries.
The begum’s photo from the archives
“The nawab begums of Bhopal were very dynamic and built the city differently from male rulers. They focussed on all areas, from education to women’s empowerment. We realised so much of their contribution — like building hospitals, enhancing the railways, opening schools — while putting this together,” shares Rashid, adding that, in 1889, Shah Jehan Begum funded the construction of Britain’s first purpose-built mosque at Woking. The collection is still evolving as more memorabilia makes its way to them slowly, from the extended family. A plan to restore and display the wedding dresses of the begums is also in the pipeline.
The museum is open to all. Rooms at the hotel are from ₹8,000 onwards. Details: jehannuma.com
Bori Safari Lodge
Spot the tiger at Bori Safari Lodge
Another post-pandemic hospitality initiative is Bori Safari Lodge, an eight-room wildlife camp started by Rashid’s brother, Aly, in the Satpura Forest. “When we started the Reni Pani Jungle Lodge [a two-and-a-half hour drive away] in 2009, it was about experiencing the diversity of the forest, with river safaris, walking trails and birding. With the Bori, the tiger comes centre stage,” says the trained naturalist, who has partnered with the state tourism department.
Aly is a trained naturalist
A tiger relocation programme successfully initiated four years ago has revitalised the habitat and the local population. “The tigers have not only flourished, but have actively begun mating.” Aly — who has great memories of spending his childhood in the forests — also leads expeditions to spot snow leopards in Ladakh and seek out the red panda in the Northeast. “This [project] is a means to conserve the landscape. The alternate income for the locals will recharge the community, support conservation, and will help wildlife be seen as an asset.”
From ₹25,000 onwards (all inclusive)
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Entertainment> Art> Weekend Travel Special 2022 / by Priyadershini S / April 15th, 2022
‘Gulal Gota’ is made with unique craftsmanship and compliments the festival of colours. | Picture by Tabeenah Anjum
Dozens of Muslim artisans in Jaipur have kept the 400-year-old traditional art form of Gulal Gota alive.
Jaipur :
The narrow lanes of Jaipur’s walled city are abuzz with festive fervour ahead of Holi, the festival of colours to be celebrated on March 17. Twenty-eight-year-old Amjad Khan, a seventh-generation lac bangle maker is busy selling Gulal Gotas (lac balls filled with colours) at his shop situated in the Maniharon-Ka-Raasta inside the Tripolia Bazar in the walled city of Jaipur.
Every year, two months ahead of the Holi, Amjad along with his eight siblings starts making the lac balls and fills them with colours before packing them in boxes. Amjad is not alone. Dozens of artisans in Jaipur have kept this traditional art form alive, which is as old as 400 years.
Gulal Gota is made with unique craftsmanship and compliments the festival of colours. After completing his basic education, Amjad learnt this art from his father late Babbu Khan. The family does not earn much from the sale of Gulal Gota but they don’t want to give up on this traditional art form that they have inherited from their forefathers.
‘Gulal Gota’ is made with unique craftsmanship and compliments the festival of colours. | Picture by Tabeenah Anjum
“In the last two decades and especially from the last two years because of the pandemic, the demand for Gulal Gota has come down a bit but for the love of this art form, we want to keep it alive and pass this to our next generation irrespective of gender. My siblings, mother and late father used to participate. It brings families together,” Amjad shared.
“Every year for two months our entire family gets busy making Gulal Gotas. It is an art to add colours in the lac containers. It is again re-heated and then, with the help of a steel rod and the air is blown into the small balls. We fill it later with organic colours. We are not even earning 50 per cent of what we are spending to make these balls but we are only doing to make the Holi special,” Amjad said.
Each ball weighs from 10 to 20 grams and costs anywhere between Rs 100 to 150.
The Gulal Gotas are still popular with traditional families and are used at the famous Govind Dev Ji temple in Jaipur. According to the popular view of historians, Sawai Jai Singh II brought the artists from Amber to the walled city and developed the unique art of Gulal Gota. Even today during the annual Holi celebration at the city palace, revellers throw these balls at each other and get smeared with colours without hurting anyone.
Boxes of Gulal Gotas being prepared for sale. | Picture by Tabeenah Anjum
Apart from states such as Madhya Pradesh, national capital New Delhi and Uttar Pradesh, it is shipped to other parts of the world including Canada, Britain, Australia, Spain, France and Nepal. However, packaging the balls needs careful handling to avoid the risk of the balls bursting in their wrapping. The balls are sold in packs of 6 or 8.
Those involved in the production of these balls belong to the Muslim community. Awaz Mohammed, a national award-winning artist who has been in this field for seven generations said, “This is a beautiful gesture and brings two communities together. The only sad part is that for an artist the sale from Gulal Gotas is not enough to sustain their livelihood.”
Awaz’s daughter Gulrukh Sultana who is a trained lac artist not only learnt the art from her father but is also sharing the skill at national institutes across India such as NIID, JJ School of Arts, Pearl Academy etc.
“Making lac artifacts is an intricate and unsafe job, but I want to share this art and skill with the future generation. It is the passing of tradition and heritage Jaipur is proud of. Lac is delicate and it needs proper handling. I have trained so many artists in different cities and also given demonstrations internationally,” said 35-year-old Sultana, a recipient of the state award in 2009 and a UNESCO award in 2013.
Looking at the market and interest of the younger generation, Sultana is apprehensive about whether this art could be saved. “Since there is not much earning, it is less attractive for youngsters to learn this skill but at the same time the government should come up with lucrative initiatives and ensure the art is kept alive”, she added.
Tabeenah Anjum is a journalist based in Rajasthan reporting on politics, gender, human rights, and issues impacting marginalized communities. She tweets at @TabeenahAnjum
source: http://www.twocircles.net / TwoCircles.net / Home> Lead Story / by Tabeenah Anjum, TwoCircles.net / March 16th, 2022
Gulammohammed Sheikh: ‘What we need is an open climate within our institutions to allow artists to practise their art’
Gulammohammed Sheikh, artist (Illustration : Suvajit Dey)
Gulammohammed Sheikh speaks on the idea of multiplicity in life, art education in India, interference in institutions and how the world of art remains free of divides. This session was moderated by Vandana Kalra, Senior Assistant Editor, The Indian Express .
Vandana Kalra: In 1981, you had said that living in India means living simultaneously in several times and cultures. Do you think the relevance of your statement has only increased over time? Also, how do you look at the works that you made during that period, for example, City for Sale?
Among these works, the first one was About Waiting and Wandering, the other was Speaking Street, the third Revolving Routes and the fourth City for Sale. They relate to actual situations and are connected.
Speaking Street was a re-creation of the kind of street that I lived in during my childhood. Born in 1937, I spent about 18 years in Surendranagar, which was then a small town, before I came to Baroda to study. We lived in a little lane, which had a little mosque whose walls were painted green with enamel colours, but it didn’t have a dome. There would be people sitting on the street selling fish, or somebody pulling a little cart. In the lower half of the painting there are several events taking place simultaneously in different houses or rooms, as would happen with people living in chawls. Speaking Street also carries a personal portrait — a young boy looking out of a window. Thinking of the childhood spent in a street like that, I remember having learnt to recite the Quran in Arabic at a madarsa, while studying Sanskrit at school. It gave me the idea of multiplicity in life, connected by multiple belief systems.
This work connects with the much larger City for Sale, based in the city in which I continue to live; the city of Baroda, now Vadodara. I came to Baroda first in 1955 as a student, and after finishing my studies at the Faculty of Fine Arts, I taught there for three years. I was then in London on a scholarship for three years and returned home in 1966. When I first came to Baroda, it opened for me not just the world of art, but also the art of the world. But in 1969 this city produced another image. Some of the worst communal riots took place here between 1969 and 1970. People began to look at me with my name in mind. So, it gave me an identity which was different from the identity that I had acquired when I had reached Baroda, then — open, liberal, multifaceted. In 1969, suddenly the situation changed. These four paintings, in some ways, reflect upon the times that I had gone through. City for Sale is large and has multiple figures, so many characters. There are three men meeting on the pretext of lighting a matchstick. Would that provoke incendiary connotations? There is also a woman who has a big vegetable cart, which literally flows into the town. Then there is, in the centre, a film being shown called Silsila (1981). And on the top, the scene of a communal riot. It brought together multiple parts of a city, depicting how riots are raging in one part, but a film is being shown in another. In a way, it was confessional, it was also some kind of a release for me.
Yes, there are problems that beset our institutions. Government museums and academies are out of touch with what’s going on in the world of art, and directors are often appointed rather arbitrarily, often not from the art world at all
Vandana Kalra: In more recent years, you’ve taken this thought forward and you seem to have turned to Kabir and Mahatma Gandhi to call for peace, call for intermingling. If you could talk a bit about that.
Gandhi came to me right from the time I was in school. I read My Experiments with Truth (1927), in Gujarati it’s Satya Na Prayogo. It has remained with me ever since. During the years of 1969 and 1970, Gandhi kept coming to me, in different forms, different guises. But I didn’t know how to paint Gandhiji, I had never seen him in person. I saw lots of photographs. Then I devised something. The first painting that I made of him was of Gandhi in South Africa, in the image of a young lawyer. But the second one, which I have used twice or thrice since, was the image of Gandhi returning to India, quoted from a painting by Abanindranath Tagore.
Kabir came in a different way. I was familiar with his poetry from my school days but he began to become more and more relevant in the context of the conflicting situations that I saw around myself. I thought, perhaps, I should try to paint Kabir. But how to paint Kabir? My mentor KG Subramanyan’s mentor Benodebehari Mukherjee had painted a large mural in Santiniketan on the saint-poets of India, which included Kabir. Benode babu knew that Kabir was a weaver, so he went to the weavers’ colony to search for his image of a weaver and made his Kabir. I found a Kabir image in a late Mughal painting in the British Museum collection and devised a Kabir-like persona from that image. As Kabir began to recur in my mind, I began to read Kabir but it was difficult to find a visual equivalent. It was when I heard Kumar Gandharva singing Kabir that I thought, why can I not illustrate his poetry? Within histories of art, a great number of paintings illustrate poetry.
We have to think of a holistic way of devising a new art education system for our country. An art education system that is not standardised. It should leave room for each region, each culture in a diverse country like ours
Vandana Kalra: How do you look at the dialogue between your poetry and painting?
When I started writing poetry while I was in school, it was very traditional, using Sanskrit meters or in the form of songs. When I came to Baroda, I met a new mentor, Suresh Joshi, the writer who pioneered a modern idiom in Gujarati. He introduced us to Baudelaire, Rilke, Lorca, etc. After reading these great poets, I felt what I was writing was not worthwhile, so I threw away much of it, and began to write poetry without verse, without any meter. I felt I should use spoken language. I had to find my voice from within the spoken word. In some ways, I had to find something which was not only modern but also personal, which was mine. Similarly, in painting, I had to struggle hard. Every student feels that he is under the shadow of his teacher, so he wants to get out of that shadow. I started to look outside of Baroda. I looked at MF Husain and began using the image of a horse. But there was a difference between Husain’s horses and mine. Husain’s horses are to be regarded as timeless. Charged with energy, they were larger than life. My lonely creature came from my life experiences, perhaps it came from the tonga, the ghoda-gaadi that I knew from my childhood. This horse was harnessed and was trying to unshackle itself.
” The world of art in India is still free of divides… For us it was a mini India, a multiple India; it was not straitjacketed into the singular. Many of us found our life partners from within the Faculty we taught and studied at
Devyani Onial: What do you think about art education in India? Also, you started teaching when you were very young. Can you talk a bit about those days?
Art education should begin at school and children should be taken to art galleries and museums. I’ve seen not just in the West, but also in places like Indonesia, tiny tots are taken to museums, they have their little notebooks with them in which they write about the paintings that they see.
The Faculty of Fine Arts (MS University), set up around 1950, was the first institution in India where university education included fine arts. It offered not a diploma, but a degree.
What the pioneers visualised was an artist who was literate and educated, a new citizen of modern India, because it coincided with the independence of the country. It was a small institution, the teacher student ratio was one to 10, or one to 15. The studios were huge, they were like warehouses and were open throughout the day and night. For somebody like me, coming from a small town, it was a great experience to learn from your teachers who were working alongside you. We saw NS Bendre working, we saw our seniors like Jyoti Bhatt, Shanti Dave and GR Santosh working. Despite the fact that I had some financial difficulties, I managed to sail through those four years of under-graduation, and then even did my master’s. I got a job to teach while I was in my second-year master’s course and some of my classmates also became my students for a brief while. But art education, even to this day, is a neglected discipline. We have to think of a holistic way of devising a new art education system for our country. An art education system that is not standardised. It should leave room for each region, each culture in a diverse and multifarious country like ours.
Leena Misra: Vadodara was recently in the news because Chandra Mohan was not allowed to display his artwork. It was also in the news because they have booked the first case of interfaith marriage, which violates the freedom of religion. So what do you think went wrong in the city and why are people not speaking up? Has the space for expression, even for artists, shrunk?
It’s not that people were not speaking. Prof Shivaji Panikkar, the then in-charge Dean of the Faculty, stood firm defending the student against a controversy engineered by external elements. A spate of protests by students against the assault on the institution continued for almost a year. Several of us spoke. Ganesh Devy (literary critic) had also spoken up. But the issue that you’re talking about is larger. What we need is an open climate within our institutions of art and art education, to allow artists to practise their art. External issues have been brought to institutions, which then have been victims of unhealthy controversies and conflicts. I think artists should and would articulate their ideas through their art and there are artists who have done that. I will quote the German playwright and poet Bertolt Brecht: “Will there be singing in the dark times?” To which the answer is, “Yes, there will be singing about the dark times”.
External interferences are mostly politically motivated, we got to stand against them but while continuing to practise. If you stop practising, if you do not paint, that is more dangerous. Baroda had a liberal foundation and to an extent it still exists. The world of art and artists in India is still free of divides. Let me give you example of five of my teachers from the Faculty of Fine Arts. The first dean Markand Bhatt, a Gujarati, was married to Perin, a Parsi. NS Bendre, a Maharashtrian, married Mona, a Tamilian. Sankho Chaudhuri, a Bengali, married a Parsi fellow artist Ira, and K G Subramanyan married Sushila, a Punjabi, the last two couples had met in Santiniketan. For us it was a mini India, a multiple India; it was not straitjacketed into the singular. Many of us found our life partners from within the Faculty we taught and studied at. A Kashmiri Ratan Parimoo found Naina, a Gujarati; a Maharashtrian PD Dhumal, married Rini, who was a Bengali. So there was nothing unusual in a Gujarati like me marrying a Punjabi Nilima. That has been the culture of the Faculty of Fine Arts. We lived a life which was not just a life lived, but a life shared.
Shiny Varghese: What do you think are the values that we should support today that will determine what our future will be like tomorrow?
I would answer your question in a different way. Frankly, my own view is that contemporary Indian art is still very vibrant. We have three to four generations of artists working. We have 97-year-old Krishen Khanna, of the generation of Husain. You have my generation, and you have those that come after us, like Atul Dodiya, Sudarshan Shetty and several others. Then there is a still younger generation working. I’m not painting a rosy picture. What I am trying to say is that within art, among artists, there is still a dialogue, and they are working steadfastly. I’m also very happy that we have many women artists. We also have several couple-artists, doing different things in their own way. Like Manu and Madhvi Parekh, Arpita and Paramjit Singh, Reena and Jitish Kallat, Atul and Anju Dodiya, Bharti Kher and Subodh Gupta among others. I wonder if such a situation prevails in other countries. I am putting it in a somewhat simplistic manner but the values our artists seem to pursue are the values of a free and creative practice. Most of us are engaged in finding a visual language for contemporary issues, often referring to problematics of our times. Then, there are so many young artists. We have a young artist called BR Shailesh, who was trained in a gurukul, he speaks Sanskrit, he came to study painting, and he ventured into digital art, then into installation. He is using his gurukul background and devising a way where there is both critique as well as celebration.
Rinku Ghosh: On the one hand you say art is about hope, on the other you choose to stay away from rescuing institutions like the National Gallery of Modern Art and Lalit Kala Akademi from decay. How will young artists express themselves freely if greats like you don’t act?
It is not correct. Artists have always spoken out in one way or another. A long time back, in the 1960s, J Swaminathan published Contra (1966-67) to take on the Akademis, we (Bhupen Khakhar and I) brought out a journal called Vrishchik (1969-73) and through that, amongst other things, mounted a campaign to reform the Lalit Kala Akademi. We fought for three years, as a result of which the government appointed the Khosla Commission. Some of the reforms that we were fighting for were included. So, it’s not that artists have not driven change. Yes, there are problems that beset our institutions. Government museums and academies are out of touch with what’s going on in the wider world of art, and directors are often appointed rather arbitrarily, often not from the art world at all. Are we to become activists then? When KG Subramanyan was asked the question, he said tellingly that yes, he would, but as an artist activist, not as an activist artist. The younger generations of artists too have their own modes of articulating the need for change, their own activism.
Paromita Chakrabarti: Could you speak about the time when you met your wife? You mentioned how it was commonplace in the artistic community to find partners from other communities. In the larger city, for instance, was there the ghost of love jihad at that time, which has become so prominent now?
I have already made some remarks about the issues earlier. I have tried to answer these through the paintings that I have done, including City for Sale, which is about the city and which deals with the kind of conflicting situation you are talking about.
External interferences are mostly politically motivated, we got to stand against them but while continuing to practise. If you stop practising, if you do not paint, that is more dangerous. Baroda had a liberal foundation and to an extent it still exists. The world of art and artists in India is still free of divides. Let me give you example of five of my teachers from the Faculty of Fine Arts. The first dean Markand Bhatt, a Gujarati, was married to Perin, a Parsi. NS Bendre, a Maharashtrian, married Mona, a Tamilian. Sankho Chaudhuri, a Bengali, married a Parsi fellow artist Ira, and K G Subramanyan married Sushila, a Punjabi, the last two couples had met in Santiniketan. For us it was a mini India, a multiple India; it was not straitjacketed into the singular. Many of us found our life partners from within the Faculty we taught and studied at. A Kashmiri Ratan Parimoo found Naina, a Gujarati; a Maharashtrian PD Dhumal, married Rini, who was a Bengali. So there was nothing unusual in a Gujarati like me marrying a Punjabi Nilima. That has been the culture of the Faculty of Fine Arts. We lived a life which was not just a life lived, but a life shared.
Shiny Varghese: What do you think are the values that we should support today that will determine what our future will be like tomorrow?
I would answer your question in a different way. Frankly, my own view is that contemporary Indian art is still very vibrant. We have three to four generations of artists working. We have 97-year-old Krishen Khanna, of the generation of Husain. You have my generation, and you have those that come after us, like Atul Dodiya, Sudarshan Shetty and several others. Then there is a still younger generation working. I’m not painting a rosy picture. What I am trying to say is that within art, among artists, there is still a dialogue, and they are working steadfastly. I’m also very happy that we have many women artists. We also have several couple-artists, doing different things in their own way. Like Manu and Madhvi Parekh, Arpita and Paramjit Singh, Reena and Jitish Kallat, Atul and Anju Dodiya, Bharti Kher and Subodh Gupta among others. I wonder if such a situation prevails in other countries. I am putting it in a somewhat simplistic manner but the values our artists seem to pursue are the values of a free and creative practice. Most of us are engaged in finding a visual language for contemporary issues, often referring to problematics of our times. Then, there are so many young artists. We have a young artist called BR Shailesh, who was trained in a gurukul, he speaks Sanskrit, he came to study painting, and he ventured into digital art, then into installation. He is using his gurukul background and devising a way where there is both critique as well as celebration.
Rinku Ghosh: On the one hand you say art is about hope, on the other you choose to stay away from rescuing institutions like the National Gallery of Modern Art and Lalit Kala Akademi from decay. How will young artists express themselves freely if greats like you don’t act?
It is not correct. Artists have always spoken out in one way or another. A long time back, in the 1960s, J Swaminathan published Contra (1966-67) to take on the Akademis, we (Bhupen Khakhar and I) brought out a journal called Vrishchik (1969-73) and through that, amongst other things, mounted a campaign to reform the Lalit Kala Akademi. We fought for three years, as a result of which the government appointed the Khosla Commission. Some of the reforms that we were fighting for were included. So, it’s not that artists have not driven change. Yes, there are problems that beset our institutions. Government museums and academies are out of touch with what’s going on in the wider world of art, and directors are often appointed rather arbitrarily, often not from the art world at all. Are we to become activists then? When KG Subramanyan was asked the question, he said tellingly that yes, he would, but as an artist activist, not as an activist artist. The younger generations of artists too have their own modes of articulating the need for change, their own activism.
Paromita Chakrabarti: Could you speak about the time when you met your wife? You mentioned how it was commonplace in the artistic community to find partners from other communities. In the larger city, for instance, was there the ghost of love jihad at that time, which has become so prominent now?
I have already made some remarks about the issues earlier. I have tried to answer these through the paintings that I have done, including City for Sale, which is about the city and which deals with the kind of conflicting situation you are talking about.
It is difficult to tell you the personal story, but it was, and is not uncommon among artists to get acquainted with each other, and eventually to become not only friends but partners. The pursuit of our vocation brought us together. Several of my friends and students have married outside their communities. The kind of divide, that you belong to this belief system or you belong to that belief system, or that you come from Kerala or Bihar, is denounced in our community of artists. Art actually binds, art brings us together, art gives us a new world to live in. When I say that art spells hope, what I mean is that hope is the essence of the creative act. I still believe that a creative life also makes you a slightly better human being, because it allows you to keep the divide out, it allows you to share, it allows you to meet people, it allows you to connect with as many people as possible.
Suanshu Khurana: You mentioned Kumar Gandharva and the impact his Kabir bhajans had on your work. Are there any other musicians who’ve been a significant part of your consciousness while creating your art?
I listen to a lot of music. Even now, during the pandemic, we have a little bluetooth speaker and I listen to music every morning or while working. I listen to Mallikarjun Mansur, I love Bhimsen Joshi, I enjoy Kishori Amonkar’s singing. I have not known many musicians, but I had some connection with Kumar Gandharva because of the opportunities of meeting during the programmes at Bharat Bhavan in Bhopal during the 1980s, where I would listen to him. Among the series of Kabir paintings I made, two were companion pieces: a largish painting called Ek Achambha Dekha Re Bhai has the companion piece called Heerna. It is my tribute to Heerna sung by Kumar Gandharva.
source: http://www.indianexpress.com / The Indian Express / Home> Idea Exchange / by Premium, Express News Service / April 05th, 2022
