*About growing wings....

I read an interesting article written in the newspaper by Chetan Bhagat about missed opportunities, and how leadership requires a moderated rationality to maximise the purposefulness of intention. Otherwise one merely stands the possibility of squandering the chances that one has strived to realise for oneself, that can produce desired results. I cannot agree with him more.

In the everyday engagement I have within the Collective Studio, where discourse and teaching, living and sharing, interdependency and freedom are some of the integral components that formulate the philosophy of this alternative studio; the touchstone is to always find the essential truth to what we do, and to "wrap it" around the purpose that holds reason and meaning so that we do not loose ourselves in the aimlessness of hollow rhetoric and posturing.

The dangers of becoming too obsessed with something can be counter productive and loose significance, if it is not contextualised within frameworks of rational perception. When negotiation presents itself, it is an option worth attempting. The world co-exists within a playpen of diverse interests; in which everyone stakes their claim. Living life on ones' own terms requires that nuanced understanding of how to balance reality and idealism, without either one becoming a casualty in the process.

We often misunderstand the concept of leadership to equate as meaning only about leading others. For me it is really about "leading" myself - my heart, my mind, my conscience. To negotiate each day with the dreamed of and the reality of circumstance; and then to find the best current within my own energies to propel me to where I know I need to be, becomes the constant effort.

"If you bring forth what is within you, what is within you
will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you,
what is within you will destroy you."
- Jesus,
The gnostic gospels
Elaine Pagels, ed.
From the book titled - In Search of Our Mothers' Gardens by Alice Walker

*About growing wings is a title of a lithograph by Surendran Nair.


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The shame of ranking number 4 in the world!

As Indians we are always desiring to hold a world ranking for something,........anything! Well let's take out the band-baja, and burst the firecrackers as well; because we have finally made it into that haloed status of being ranked right up on the top for something! We are ranked as being the fourth most dangerous country for women! Wow! what a proud day this must be for our nation!

With one atrocity after another being committed on women everyday......kidnaping, rape, acid attacks, burning, hanging, murder, abuse,......news item after news item is filled with one more gruesome tale than the other. Foreign women are often the victims of cruel acts of sexual perversion on their visits to our country as tourists, merely because the fantasies of the deviant Indian male mind are aroused by the notions of assumed cliches about the promiscuity of western women.

I have had my fair share of humiliating experiences that range from breast grabbing to being flashed at on my own door step because I was a single woman living alone with my son; and being groped when in crowded places and a thousand eyes look away. The other common abuse that is so rampant are the "stories" and rumours that are floated as smear campaigns against women. The assault upon the reputation of a women is always by attacking her imagined sexual conduct, and deeming her immoral by sullying her character. This is an age old tactic and in practice till today and unfortunately also perpetuated by those where education should have taught them otherwise.

With female infanticide clogging our sewages from the remote villages to global urban cities, do we wonder why we have this dubious honour of being ranked the fourth most dangerous country for women?

But nothing really shames us. We will shout from the roof tops about our cultural heritage, and how we honour the goddess Shakti. But the truth of the matter lies in those charred bodies of burnt brides, and female foetuses which putrefy the air with it's rotting stench. These are our proud moments. This is our rich Indian cultural heritage, and the manner in which we honour our women. I don't know about you, but I have to hang my head in shame today for the reputation that my country has earned for itself. As an Indian woman I believe I deserve something much better than this.



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An old friend .....

For years I have listened to the music of Joan Baez. I can't even remember when the first occasion was where this lady with Spanish boots came into my life; but what I do know is that for me it feels like she was singing to me even when she was in her mother's womb.

She has accompanied me on all my travels; not always just by the physicality of her music but in the DNA we both share through the politics of our beliefs and in the imagination that takes shape from the lyrics that her lilting voice gifts me. A sister, she has been with me when thunder clouds sit dark in my mind or when the towering mountains of Bhutan have held my breath with it's magnificence....she stays close with me.....always.

Thank you dear friend. I still sit in the shadow of your voice and know I will grow old listening to the stories of your heart.



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The shame of oppression...

Rape is the most beastial act of oppression on women, and one which I cannot imagine any civilised society ever allowing nor supporting. Therefore in the recent news coverage over the last few days I was horrified to learn of two stories that shamed me to the core. The fourteen year old girl who was abducted by policeman whilst she was grazing her cattle, brutally raped and the killed makes you wonder about what law enforcement means in our country today! Sex is purchasable so let's not be coy about that. If desperately desiring sex is the preoccupation of the culprits then let them by all means frequent a space where consential sexual transaction are available. Why commit this horrifying atrocity to merely ejaculate, if I may put it rather crudely. At fourteen this young
child's life was already in the lane of bearing adult responsibilities. I wonder what gratifying sexual fantasy these crazed policemen must have had to even contemplate this horrifying deed; and to then silence her by killing her and discarding her body like a left over meal that no longer entices your appetite.

The lady who hanged herself after her two colleagues drugged her and then raped her is another chilling story of male testosterone gone amuck! How sick can office politics get when "methods" of getting even become such acts of debauchery? The image of her body hanging from the fan made my stomach cu curl with shame!

And of course Gaddafi who honours his country's nationals by using rape as a weapon of war.
Welcome to the 21st century!

With the Babaramdev's and their attention seeking dharma's the real issues of concern get side lined. I weep for the lack of will that we display to bring greater parameters of civil accountability through the vigilance of better political governance. A raped woman or child is just an uncomfortable statistic for Indians at large ... Nothing to write home about and much less get hot and bothered under the collar over...Instead it will be the news of some Bollywood tear jerker that will fill the news papers and mega big bare bodied bollywood stars who will claim our attention.

Serious after all is normally considered boring....hai na?!

Location:Canal Rd,Vadodara,India

The last of the true Indian Icons depart.....

                                      

There can never really be another M.F Husain, ever. A man who charted his journey from the humble by-lanes of an Indian city to the center stage of world art; he gave Indian art an international face long before any other Indian artist did. A maverick, he could  reinvent himself  as a painter and creator continuously, and till the very end has remained an artist whose art holds a relevance despite  other trends and fashions that come and go.

Husain had this amazing ability to make you feel that you were the most important person when he was spending time with you. His agelessness was because he was in fact a true free spirit who never conformed to the expected. He lived life on his own terms and when hounded in recent years by fundamentalist forces, he chose to hold his dignity and never retaliate to the provocation and humiliation of betrayal  that his country meted out to him. It is this very grace and elegance that set him apart from others of his fraternity, and allowed him to be free of cynicism or anger. He has lived each day of his life within the orbit of his creative energies and he leaves for us a legacy that holds the vigours of his beliefs:  that creation through the vision and soul of the mortal spirit is a space of freedom, unfettered by the dictates of religious bias and politics;  and is a universe of infinite being.

Dear friend, you gave to each of us a part of yourself to hold forever. Indian art history owes you a huge debt.

250 and still counting....

When I began to blog I never believed I would sustain it this long. I began it because it appeared such a democratic way of communicating with an audience, and it has proved to be that very space it promised to be where people can mingle with ones ideas and views, disagree or empathise; and not necessarily have to meet up to create this synergy of engagement.

I have over time acquired some faithful readers, and I am often truly surprised when I meet someone for the first time  who informs me that they follow my blog. It isn't that what one shares in this blog is anything very unique or specialized, but what I think becomes a basic criteria of bonding is a transparent honesty and a lack of some hidden agenda which allows others to feel comfortable with plugging in.

At a time where confusion prevails as to what really is right and wrong with the whole Ramdev Baba issue, open platforms of interaction become the only areas of debate that hopefully allow us to find better comprehension into this murky mess.

I cannot say that a police crack down is a correct political/legal procedure within a democracy. However after the demolition of the Babri Masjid on that fateful day of "protests" by kar sevaks I always become jittery over the saffron brigade posturing as the "voice of the people". Maybe Baba Ramdev in his feminine attire appeals to me more (!) but whatever I followed through the media reports of his hunger strike and his inarticulate rhetoric certainly did not inspire confidence in me.

I found the  civil movement that supported Anna Hazare a more truthful space of protest that clearly (even if naively) attempted to separate political hijacking from the issues of addressing the Lokpal bill. Of course there were blunders, of course there were many people who saw this as an opportunity of visibility.....but all in all it held up a space of accountability that each of us could understand and relate to and identify with.

The problem in India is corruption can be stamped upon everyone. In the last twenty-five years the "bakshish" bill has been well "drafted" into Indian society. Whether it is the linesmen of the telephone department, the municipal civic authorities, the postal service etc. etc. etc....., every one "quietly" holds the common person to ransom by "quietly" pinching them where it hurts the most! So cough it up or pay the price of being "quietly" harassed!

Today India is full of virtuous outrage over the mid-night drama of Baba Ramdev's arrest. With the shadows of the past that are yet to be laid to rest I think sometimes actions that quell possible mob hooliganism is unfortunately a wiser option in the long run when a country needs to address serious issues. With the bagpipes of Scotland calling, the snake charmers role is being rewritten by our bearded friend. Maybe Indian designers can merge the kilt and the saffron robe into a new attire for our new self proclaimed saviour of the hour. But for me, I am not amused that a civil movement that had profound dignity and a following of people across the entire spectrum of Indian society, and which was led by a person of  Anna Hazare's credibility has been hijacked and potentially derailed by a saffron adjutant who is clearly only a mouthpiece for someone else! Clear the deck please and let the movement proceed with its original leader to guide it.

An on going affair....

Sari's are the most beautiful garment in the world. As a child I always looked more grown-up than my peers, so when I turned thirteen and had a wardrobe that consisted of halter necks, bell bottoms, shorts, mini skirts and T.Shirts; I added this delightfully graceful garment to my shelves. My parents were very liberal and so my quirks of dressing were accommodated with no raised eye-brows and instead a great deal of support and many compliments that in retrospect must have been only possible from pure parental love alone!!!

I wore saris through out college....beautiful cottons that came from the magic of weavers and their looms. These garments and my nava bazar ghagaras, rainbow coloured kurta's and chatak salwars were the fashion statement of my university years. Perhaps my love affair with the sari is rooted from the memories of my mother from when I was young, who for many years of her life only wore saris. The swish of the fabric as she would kiss me good night is such a precious personal memory...almost like a special secret  that only I possess the knowledge of.

I loved the saris that the Calcutta fisher ladies wear. Even in the 8o's to pay only twelve and fifteen rupees for a sari as considered a song. Vibrant flat colours with contrasting borders made for the most beautiful aesthetics you could imagine.

Day before yesterday I went to a lovely little store owned by my old friend Tejal Panthaki that is called "Tejal" and bought four lovely cotton saris. On bringing them home my mother told me that this purchase was going to be her present to me! The delight of a mother buying you a sari is another little special secret joy that becomes difficult to describe; and which is so much about the personal rituals of love.

I don't wear my sari's as often as I used to. The climate change has perhaps been the biggest factor to this; and when I travel I tend to take just few mix and match "stuff" that keeps my bags super light.

Today it isn't that easy to procure saris that are simple. With middle class taste often veering towards the gaudy, one gets too many over embellished saris that would make even a peacock blush. But of course  beautiful saris are still being made by the weavers. It is just finding out who has the eye and discernment to source them and offer them to us in their outlets that we frequent as shoppers.