Category: Celebrating India

Abhishek Goel explores Gokarna, which sits on a secluded seaside spot and is also a major stop point for travelers and Indian pilgrims

I have kind of ambiguous and dubious feelings about describing this very special place because on one hand I feel that this surreptitiously mysterious place should remain as pristine as it was when I first visited there. Because I know that I will visit this place again and again and the selfish side of me wants to keep this place for myself only forever. And on the other hand I feel its my duty to inform the people that such a special place exists in our very own country.

If you are looking for an offbeat adventure, Gokarna is the perfect place for you.Gokarna is a town in the Uttar Kannada district of Karnataka state,with a permanent population just above 25000.Few people know that the all famous Canara bank derives its name from this very district. Me and my friend started our journey from the all famous Palolem (Canacona) Beach,Goa and least did we know that how good a decision we had made by covering the distance of about 3 hours on hired bikes.The scenic beauty and the exquisite coastal town of Karwar on the way  were just the start of a splendid journey awaiting us.

We reached Gokarna in the evening just when the sky was ablaze with the sun setting and flaming yellow and fiery orange colors drooling all around us.At first look, some negative thoughts haunted our minds about our decision to spend our 3 days off in a lesser known and infamous Gokarna instead of the booze parties and music in Goa. We reached the Om beach in Gokarna at the time when it was pitch dark and unable to feel or even see the landscape, we just found a nice shack to spend the night in the wait of the morning.

Gokarna means the cow’s ear. As told by the shack owner, Vishnu, the Hindu god Shiva, after being banished by Brahma from Kailasa, returned from hell through the ear of a cow. This is the lore that has been incanted to name the abode of Shiva’s Atma Linga. How his Atma Linga came to be here is another fascinating tale.Ardent Shiva devotee Ravana was taking the form of Shiva, his Atma Linga, to Lanka. Other gods worried it would make Ravana too powerful. So Vishnu orchestrated a sundown, forcing the pious Ravana to perform his evening rituals. Ganesha appeared as a boy and offered to hold aloft the Linga while Ravana bathed. Once Ravana was out of sight, Ganesha firmly lodged the Atma Linga at Gokarna, thus preventing Ravana from taking it to Lanka.

But this all is the mythological side of Gokarna.it is a town of contrasts as it is a temple town and what made me fall in love with this place was a series of splendid and pristine beaches ( I think the best ones and least known in India).

Our trip started the next morning when we woke to catch the glimpse of the rising sun; we were totally awestruck seeing the view on Om beach. Walking up the Om shaped curvature almost all alone at 6 in the morning we could hear the waves breaking in a thundered measure. Around me were the Gokarna forests,echoing with chattering of the thousands of rising birds along with us,it was more melodious than any of the early morning songs, beyond me
the cold and sparkling blue of the sea,the wind punishing the hair.It was at that very moment when I realized that I have been on many beaches in my life but never had such an immense pleasure just in walking on the beach. It truly felt like paradise.

We decided to have breakfast in the all famous Namaste Café  . The American breakfast served with fresh Kiwi juice was a delight for our bellies and conversing with some of the hippies (who were living on the beach from the past 1 month now) gave goose bumps when they described the scenic beauty of the area.

We wanted to have a feel of the Gokarna town so we decided to leave the Om beach and went strolling around the streets in the town. The town of Gokarna was as any other pilgrim place with pundits walking around in their traditional dresses.The only unusual thing was that a lot of foreign tourists also could be seen buying stuff from the local market.

The amazing thing about Gokarna is that it offers near-virgin beaches separated by hills and cliffs forming an unending panorama of nature’s beauty at its best. This coastline is surrounded by more than 10 beaches, the popular ones being Gokarna beach, Kudle beach, Om beach, Half moon beach and Paradise beach.

I want the readers to use the Google maps before reading this part and just gaze at top view of the coast of India in this part of the Konkan region. There are a series of small beaches with Kudle beach being the first , next comes Om beach , the only beach in the world to be shaped like the Hindu auspicious symbol AUM, then is the Half Moon beach , and next is the Paradise beach.

The farther you get, the more secluded the place gets , greater the serenity and tranquility ,clearer the water, greater the blissfulness of the landscape.

We started our trek from the Kudle beach, the word is derived from the local word “kudle” meaning small, known for its white sands. Lot of local tourists could be seen here with people taking bath in the crystal clear water. The beach is surrounded on all the three sides by hillocks and the view from the top was stunning.

The trek from Kudle to Om beach was a short one but was wondrous. We witnessed a variety of unnatural flora and fauna, with monkeys also enjoying the weather.

Reaching the Om beach , was an easy task for us, taking only 40 min or so. Om beach is just the same as others, covered by hills and you won’t get the view of the beach till you reach the top of the cliff and then you have to make your way down through the rocky path. The OM shape could be realized standing on the top of the hill.

We had to spend the rest of our days here on the Om beach so we decided to move further. On enquiring we came to know that the others are around a 20 minute hike away from each other through the hills and over rocks, or a short boat ride away.The trek from beach started and our breaths were taken away by just seeing the never ending coastline visible from the top. The trek became more dangerous than before and we wondered was this trek even possible in the monsoon season.

Half moon beach is a small beach with only 3 or 4 odd cafes and only hippies could be seen there with we being the only Indians, apart from the café owners. We decided to take rest as the sun had reached just above the horizon. The setting sun ,with it the light becoming dimmer and dimmer filled our hearts with feelings of joy and haunting us at the same time as we still had to go to the paradise beach and return to Om beach from there safely. We knew that we can’t traverse back on foot in the dark so we had to get a boat ride back. We had to make our way through the jungle literally to reach the paradise beach with only us in the vicinity.

The last beach, Paradise Beach, is not much more than a tiny protected cove that’s a patch of hippie paradise. But as the name goes it was a truly mesmerizing feeling reaching there as very few people decide to cross the jungle and reach this heavenly spot.

On the way we met a fellow named Akiva, an Israeli by nationality,ex armyman who has been living here for 15 years,as he had no family waiting for him back in Israel.We could converse with him only by writing on a rugged piece of paper as his English speaking skills were not efficient . We wondered was he blessed or unfortunate living in a place as secluded as this.

We found a boat with great difficulty from the paradise beach that gave us relief as it was impossible to get near the dense jungle, forget about passing. We had heard that travelers have frequent encounters with cobras,fortunately not with us.

We returned to the Om beach and seeing all the hippies sitting outside on the white sands around a bornfire, singing rock songs of the 70s and drinking beer, relaxing, we joined them and just relaxed through the rest of the night with the only sound heard was of the guitar playing, Jimi Hendrix’s song Purple Haze sung by a beautiful Irish girl (who liked to call herself MAYA) and ofcourse the gushing ocean.

One must travel to Gokarna to get a feel of what Goa was like in its heyday, as the time is not far when the tranquility and seclusion of this place will fall prey to commercialization.

A fresh cold wave is what is desperately needed to escape the scorching Delhi heat. Nisha Aggarwal pens down her experience of one such perfect summer getaway, Manali.

Although I never tried intently to go for a vacation to frosty places in summer, but if by chance or through work I visited such places they remain alive in memory as nostalgia. My first such visit was as a kid (may be nine or ten years old). It was my first distant outing with family (relatives and cousins). It was a family trip from Rajasthan to Vaishno Devi through Chandigarh, Amritsar and Shimla. Although it wasn’t a trip aiming to escape the heat of summer, still when I began to think about the ‘cool destinations’ I have visited, I couldn’t resist remembering that trip. I didn’t want to come back/either go ahead from Chandigarh, a city designed by Swiss-French architect Le Corbusier. Memory recalls the open hand sculptures, the city’s rock garden, Zakir Hussain rose garden and its litchi fruit trees which I remember more than the roses! Amritsar’s Golden Temple, Jallian wala Bagh leaving the sense of fear and courage into heart and afterwards Shimla’s natural beauty were the relief to senses. That was the first time I travelled in Indian Railway (perhaps the Kalka-Shimla Railway line) filled up with ebullience of travelling in ‘the longest bus’ (of my then knowledge).

Being in Shimla was my first confrontation with mountains of Himachal Pradesh, a nearest/popular summer tourist spot for all north Indians. Shimla was declared as a summer capital of British India also. During that Shimla visit I was introduced to ‘green’ mountains of Himachal Pradesh but I confronted snowcapped mountains of Himachal during my last year’s Manali tour. One interesting thing about Manali tour was that it was an official trip instead of a holiday but the mountains of western Himalayas made me feel ‘freer’ than ever. It was an adventure programme for students and I was deputed to accompany them as a teacher. We as a team started from Aleo, New Manali, along with three trekking instructors and went ahead to Solang Valley, Dhundiand then to Bakkarthach. Despite persuasive aims this journey percolated to have cultural, monumental and scenic feast.The ethnic and crystal shops, temples and Buddhist monasteries of old Manali, local market and tribes collection set up by the Government of India in New Manali, exciting paragliding at Solang valley, the Naggar castle, Nicholas Roerich art gallery and Urusvati Himalayan folk art museum of heritage village Naggar and to know about the economy and life of the local people were the pickings in my basket.

So, Manali was a sojourn point and the entire journey was divided into various halts. Apart from the halting points, sightseeing was a visual treat for eyes during the trekking. Most unforgettable was the way to Solang Valley from New Manali. It is about 15 km far. The best time for trekking is from May to November as snow is not there during this period. It provides the scintilla of Jogini water fall, Nehru Kund and the lives of local residents in villages like Barua, Balang and Solang in between the way. One can find the trees and plants of apple, apricot, pear, palm, walnut and wild strawberry and also the farmers at work on this way. Good thing about waterfalls and rivers of Himachal is that they are having pure water and Himalayans does not need to use water purifier for purifying the drinking water. The pure water which directly comes from earth is called ‘Jerru water’.

Reaching to Solang Valley adds more to the scenic vision. It is a splendid valley between Solang village and Beas Kund. It derives its name from combination of words Solang (nearby village) and Valley (water stream). It is a side valley at the top of the Kullu Valley in Himachal Pradesh, 14 km northwest of the town Manali on the way to Rohtang Pass. Solang valley offers the view of glaciers and snowcapped mountains and peaks. Giant slopes of lawn comprise Solang Valley and provide its reputation as a popular ski resort. The winter skiing festival is organized here. Training in skiing is imparted at this place. Snow melts during the starting summers in May and skiing is then replaced by zorbing, paragliding, parachuting and horse riding.

Next reaching point Dhundi is the last village in Solang Valley, and the last place to stock up with a few essentials before heading to the mountains. Metal road ends here and temperature gets down. At 9,250 feet above sea level is endued a novice experience. Lungs siphoning the fresh air, taste of pious flashy water and eyesight impinging over snow layered mountains were stimulating the senses. It was an euphonious treatment of nature for a metropolitan habitant like me, who absorbs a plenty of polluted air in her lungs daily drinks mechanically filtered toxic water and eats chemically grown vegetables and fruits. Here the temporary accommodation of tents is provided to mountaineers, as permanent construction is not workable in these hills.

Still the snow was far from the touch, only eyes could reach it. Our waiting to touch, play and sliding onto snow ended in trekking to Bakkar Thach afterwards. Trek from Dhundi to Bakkar Thach is an uphill walk for about 3-4 hours. Bakkar Thach is a highland meadow over 9,500 feets height and it literally means ‘Shepherd’s fields’. These sun and wind swept meadows are likely a feast for the senses indeed. Crossing the snow bridges in midway are a bit adventurous to walk over, which are actually a hardened surface of layered old snow. This has converted into a bridge like path over the year’s snow fall, under which the Vyas/Beas River flows. The danger to cross these is its possibility of having any crack in comparatively lean layer, which could lead to any unwilling event. So, one need continuous instructions here from the trekking instructors. Bakkar Thach was the last target place to reach, next was coming back to Aleo from where we started.

Throughout the journey I was remembering my all the college trips ‘as a student’ with friends and teachers and obviously comparing the ‘changed circumstance’ of this tour. Both these visits to Himalayas, to Shimla as a child and to Manali as a teacher were ‘first’ in their kinds yet will live as nostalgia ‘forever’ in life.

Shubhasree Purkayastha’s words explore not only Ajanta’s artistic beauty and heavy history but also the skill of the artisans of that era.

“I want to stand there under the murals, experience them in person, before they are damaged forever.”

“Ummm…okay. And?”

This is how my flat mate reacts when she sees me packing bags for Ajanta. I had no better answer to her question of why I was going to a cave in the Deccan on a college break, unlike my other batch mates who were making plans for Goa. Over the last semester I had read and worked on the Ajanta murals for my paper so much, that now it only made sense to visit the place in person.

Ajanta and Ellora caves had always been in my bucket list, and during my second semester breaks in college, I made sure I visit Aurangabad and its vicinity. A week-long stay in the region gave me the opportunity to admire many other landmarks such as the tomb of Aurangzeb, the Bibi-ka-Maqbara (which has been inappropriately labelled as a “copy” of the Taj Mahal), Daulatabad Fort, etc.

Here I would contain a discussion of only the Ajanta Caves, and primarily its murals, due to paucity of space.

The Ajanta Caves were named after the nearby village of Ajintha, when discovered in early 19^th century by officers of the Madras Army. Located in the very heart of the “Indhyadri” Range, the horse shoe bend of around thirty caves border the curve of the Waghora River, in the state of Maharashtra. At once grandiose and pleasantly rustic, the site also benefits from a nearby waterfall, the “Saptakunda” (Seven Cascades).

The only textual mention of the caves is by the Chinese traveller Huin Tsang who visited India during the 17^th century CE, during which time the site was probably still active, attracting myriad pilgrims, devotees and travellers. These were primarily Buddhist caves, used during the monsoon season as shelters for the itinerant monks. Over decades more and more living rock was hollowed out and “viharas” (monasteries) and “chaityas” (prayer halls) constructed by generations of followers and well as non-followers of Buddhism. The site probably received royal patronage, hinting at the importance of the region, which enabled the creators to undertake an awe-inspiring program of architectural and visual accomplishments.

In order to reach the main site, I had to take an eco-friendly bus up the hill and then walk for another half an hour, to finally reach Cave 1. The steep walk up had left me breathless, and sweaty, and I had begun to reconsider walking any further than this. But on entering the cave, I instantly realised that all the physical labour was worth every bit!

There I stood, wide eyed and jaw dropped, amongst layers and layers of paintings, covering almost every inch of open surface, as if in “horror vacui”. Animals and birds set on creepers and other fauna, celestial beings hovering overhead, royal personages being initiated, musicians and dancers accompanying every event – all around me there was a celebration of beauty, perfection and life!

The caves were painted by guilds of artisans, being commissioned by the royalty or noblemen. The colours used were organic and mostly the images narrated the Jataka stories and the biography of the historical Buddha. Along with religious topics, secular themes were also dealt with which portrayed a very vibrant and exuberant ancient Indian lifestyle. An analysis of the murals have revealed that the painters followed the ancient treaties on techniques and art-making (Shilpa Shastras), mainly the “Chitrasutra”, in the creation of these masterpieces.

A domineering stylistic element of the Ajanta paintings is a contrasting chromatic effect obtained by juxtaposing figures of different flesh colour. The Ajanta painters were also considered experts in the subtle art of modelling and relief, intended to give roundness to the forms and fullness to flesh. In treating the human figure, he may also choose to delicately manipulate highlights against a darker background, for instance, underlining the curve of the lips or the bulge of the eyelids with a pale stroke, accenting the nose bridge with a light line or with bright points, picking out the reflected gleam of jewels on dark flesh.

What at first seems a confused, disorderly pictorial jumble follows definite rules that, once known, allows the viewer to differentiate among the scenes, isolate the groups, gradually perceive the internal organisation of the composition, and appreciate the harmonious beauty of the whole.

It is impossible to talk about every single mural or every single architectural detail in such a short space. Hence I would limit my narrative to some of the most beautiful works of art. Most of the murals are confined to the first few caves, the term “vithi” (galleries) being used for them.

Cave 1 is an elegant “vihara” constructed during the 5^th century CE. The most astounding paintings from this cave are those relating the Mahajanaka Jataka, the story of King Mahajanaka. The painters here depicted the second half of the story dealing with Mahajanaka’s renunciation of the kingdom, renunciation of desires being considered of utmost importance in Buddhism. I tried my level best to get decent photographs in spite of the “no-flash” rule, but the murals have been so terribly damaged over the last few years of neglect and ignorance (a group of archaeologists once varnished the entire walls which led to flaking of the same in a huge amount) that I could only capture below average shots. Interesting figures in the Mahajanaka panels were the dancer in the foreground with her tie-and-die garment (a technique of cloth decoration still prevalent in India) and a companion of the royal entourage with an intricately detailed geese-motif shawl.

Adorning the two sides of the sanctum sanctorum, where the image of Buddha was sculpted, were the figures of Bodhisattva Padmapani and Vajrapani.

The Padmapani image can be undoubtedly classified as one of the masterpieces of Indian art for all times to come. Sticking perfectly to the technical treaties in every sense, the figure still manages to invoke an individualistic emotion of duality – as appropriate for this particular Bodhisattva, who serves mankind earnestly and yet does not desire liberation for himself. The facial expression, the downcast meditative eyes evoke sympathy and detachment, passion and indifference at the same time, a feat mastered so well by the Ajanta painters that to be repeated by any contemporary artist today is highly under doubt.

Hypnotised by the unbelievable beauty of these murals and the rock-cut architecture, I kept moving further and further ahead.  Ignoring all the physical strain, I kept exploring cave after cave, and finally made it till the end. As mentioned previously, most of the murals were in the initial caves only, but the others were majestic displays of rock-cut architectural achievements in themselves. The “chaitya grihas” (prayer halls) had more complicated ornamentation than the “viharas”. The outside walls of these prayer halls were profusely filled with reliefs depicting events from Gautama Buddha’s life, related myths of Yakshas, Yakshis (Nature Spirits) and Nagas (Serpent).

Also worth mentioning were the elaborate chaitya windows, pillar ornamentation and the inside of the roof carved with beam pattern, which had resonances with previous wood constructions. This characteristic of mimicking beam construction from wooden prototypes is a consistent feature in almost all ancient Indian Buddhist structures, a fact proving the theory of transition from wood to stone in Indian architecture (The wooden structures could not survive the climatic and other onslaughts of this humid country).

I travelled to many other places after this visit, it has been three years since my Ajanta summer break, but something about this visit will always stay with me. The caves of Ajanta with their breath-taking beauty humbled me. What our ancestors could do with bare hands and a chisel, what they could paint with nothing but organic colours and a hand-made brush!

We, living in modern times, could be mistaken in the assumption that we are the most developed humans that history has ever produced. We may have advanced mechanically and scientifically to an unprecedented level, may have built many beautiful things with machines and robots. But, one only needs to experience something akin to what I did at Ajanta, to realise that maybe we are wrong in our assumptions.

Maybe we have become too confident today, and maybe there is more to our ancestors than just mud huts and bullock carts.

Delectable food and celebrations are not the only definitions of festivals. Clyde D’mello asserts how MONTI FEST helps in strengthening family bonds.

It’s September 8 and in the little town of Mangalore in Karnataka, preparations have started for a glorious celebration of the mother.  Catholics get ready to go the church to celebrate this divine day and at the end of the mass, the priest gives the family a ‘NOVEM’ or rice paddy which stated by the name is ‘NEW’ or the first crop of the season, for the triumph that will soon take place i.e. the coming of Christ.

Monti fest or Mother Mary’s feast celebrates the Nativity of the Virgin Mary, and as we remember Christmas where a ‘Crib’ is made to signify the birth of Christ, here the feast has a single baby wrapped lying on a pile of hay with paddy seeds behind her. The Festival is native to Mangalore and was started by Fr. Joachim Miranda,a Goan priest during 1763 from Firangipet (which is translated as Foreigners’ market) located in border Mangalore, from the church Monte Mariano Church or Mount Mary Church. It was the time when Tipu Sultan was destroying and vandalizing most of the Konkan Catholic civilization (Goa Maharashtra and Karnataka), and this was one of the few churches that he didn’t touch due to the priest and the sultans Fathers, Hyder Ali’s close ties.

The festival celebrates the first crop of the year and like other harvest festivals in India (a few names to put in are Onam {kerela}, Pongal {Tamil Nadu}, Lhori {Punjab} etc.).Along with the paddy, sugarcane is also given as a reminder of the new life (Christ) who will soon come – ‘within the following months’ to children who bring flowers to the church.

It is a family event where all the members sit together and eat , though people have kept history at bay we need to thank Tipu Sultan for not destroying this church for among other reasons.This festival is now a national ‘thing’ as well as international, for many Magaloreans who basically live in the Persian Gulf this festival reminds them of their roots.

To a certain extent the food prepared is surprisingly ‘vegetarian’ (technically speaking most Christian are Non- Vegetarians by habit and Vegetarians by Choice). The Festival acts a reminder that Konkan Christians (Catholics) wherever they are, being Indian they were also Hindus at a certain point of time and due to the conversion or inter- marriage (Anglo Indians), bought in by the Portuguese (for a better life). The festival also reminds them of the  pain that the Konkans have been through during the reign of Tipu Slutan  , his 15 yr captivity that caused a near extinction of the community gives them pride that they have survived and carried on, and as ‘God’ would say ‘go forth and multiply’.

The food preparation starts from the ‘NOVEM’ that is blessed in the church at the altar by the priest and collected by the head of the family. After a sort prayer at any Mangalorean home, food is prepared by the ladies of the house (this can also suggest a patriarchal society), the menu includes a variety of dishes and a standard ingredient in these dishes is the Coconut.

The food is served on a banana Leaf and at the end of lunch a sweet dish is served (Vorn- made of Jaggery, Daal (lentils), coconut milk and Novem and garnished with cardamom). It is here where the NOVEM is added, that probably gives it a ‘Prasada’ feeling (or sweets given by priests after the end of a prayer or pooja) which incidentally happens also here not by priest but by prayer led by the head of the family.

There are atleast nine dishes prepared and eaten to the fullest

1. Allu Dentte (colocaesia leave with mangalorean masala with spinach stems)
2. Karate (bitter gourd – which is prepared in a paste form with grated coconuts and masala)
3. Ladies finger (fried)
4. Dry brown gram that is slightly sweetish.
5. A dish made of long string beans.
6. Tendli or Ivy Gourd, with grated coconuts and chilli.
7. A curry made of sponge guard
8. Pathorode or colocaesia leaves made with rice batter and steamed after that mangalore masala is added to make a dry curryAnd of course Vorn

On a more personal note to me, being a Mangalorean,this festival brings families together, it is the process of sharing responsibility among the family and that is where the fun lies in this festival, this is also a way for relatives to know other members and friends of the family that seem to be vanished or are “too busy to call” and for the younger generation to know how tight a family bond is.

H.A. Anil Kumar reminisces about old days when Bengaluru celebrated Shivaraathri in its true spirit and essence.

As we came out of the second show film from the touring talkies ‘Gajanana’ theatre at Yeshwanthpur (Bengaluru), it was almost impossible to completely exit out of the building. Those who wanted to watch the third show at 1am, midnight, literally pushed us in, like a huge wave pushing a ship in the direction which it did not intend to go. As a result, we – all the friends in their teens – were pushed back into the theatre, inside the theatre to watch the same film for the second time, that too for free of cost! We saw our favourite star Rajkumar’s film, though not very willingly because one could not sit through the film, literally. Everyone was standing throughout, perhaps to keep themselves awake, or because more people could be accommodated by standing than seated. Even the audience silhouettes became inevitable part of the screen all through. When we came out of the theatre at 3.30am, we still had few more hours for sunrise and for Shivaraathri festival to conclude and pave way for our eyelids to get united.

Shivarathri is a festival that captured our imagination in our childhood days in Bengaluru, like no other festival, in the 1970s. Throughout the day, we would wait for the night to arrive, because it was Lord Shiva’s raathri or night; and also waited for the dinner in the form of sacred offering, because we had to fast throughout the sunlit day. So it was a festival of waiting, of the future.

My grand mom or aunt or mum or all of them together, would for the nth time repeat the story of a hunter who was the reason for the formulation of Shivaraathri as a festival. It was a ritual to tell this story as well as listen to, every year, like the ritual of watching Attenborough’s film about ‘Gandhi’ on 2^nd October, every year on television. Kannappa, the hunter, would climb a tree and wait throughout the night for a hunt, endlessly plucking off leaves from the Shivalingam tree so as to not fall asleep and fall off the tree. He was hungry and sleepless; hence all who adored Shivarathri (or the school holiday and the pleasure it brought in) should oblige to fast and go sleepless on that festive day. Born into a generation after the hippy generation, we still had this reasoning: why should we go hungry since for Kannappa it was inevitable? Reason and logic don’t go hand in hand; and would play a spoilsport in celebrating the festival.

Shiva’s temple at Yeshwanthpur would be jam-packed throughout the day and the night on Shivarathri. On the festive day(time) we would just take a glimpse of the temple from outside, to which we were bound to come back in the night out of compulsion. This was the third element of waiting inherent in the festival, apart from fasting and being awake.

The dim lit temple interiors would be brighter by the evening and the wild flora and fauna of Bengaluru all around it would trigger off our imagination, to personally imagine the Kannappa’s story in our own style. The ignorant and innocent Kannappa (man who gifted his eyes to Shiva) sees that the Lingam has eyes and is crying. God crying in front of the innocent! He plucks off his own eyes and pastes it as crudely as possibly onto the lingam. Incidentally Rajkumar’s first ever film was “Bedara Kannappa” (1954) and he is Kannappa in it! Most of the films I saw during Shivaraathri, annually, was only this film and when it was remade after four decades, his son played the role of Kannappa while Rajkumar himself played the role of Shiva. He was better suited as a devotee than the lord, because his screen presence was longer in the former role. This populistic imagination might be one of the reason as to why we rejoiced Shivaraathri better than any other festivities. Also, there was only one hero who acted in all Kannada films, no matter how many different actors acted as heroes, when my generation was in the making – that was only Rajkumar for us!

(i) Innocence, (ii) stress on visuality, (iii) not closing one’s eyes for twenty four hours (iv) fasting and (v) populistic imagery – were the elements which fascinated us.

I still wonder as to why that day was a holiday for the school, which should have been the next day, by all logistics. Most of us who managed to reach the school next day due to the lure of parental threat did so with red eyes.

Shivaraathri is always a night of cold and chill, no matter how hot the days on its either side were. We did all that had to be done, to be awake on that night, often even sleep in the afternoon! We also did almost everything possible to fast, by eating only loads of fruits and drinking milk, almost to the extent of suffering from indigestion when it came to eating cooked food, the next day morning!

Even after watching the midnight-third-show film, we would roam around the dimly lit and zero traffic roads of Yeshwanthpur. Often we would burn cycle tyres, wooden plaques from the shafts that constituted the petty shops, to keep awake and away from cold that would inflict sleep. Only if Kannappa could have imagined the kind of characters who would express their empathy with his sleepless-hungry night!

Hence Shivaraathri surpassed being mere festivities. It was Bangalore’s response to the elaborate, nine-day-long Desersa of the Mysore Maharajas. The nature of the then Bengaluru, less populated, more homogenous in nature and the absence of yet-to-arrive idiot box (television) were the reasons for such a public participation. Shivaraathri was more of a community, cultural and populistic festival rather than a religious one.

In the beginning decade of the current century, I went to pick up a foreigner friend and welcome him to Bengaluru at HAL airport. On our way back, near to the airport, I stopped to show him the huge Shiva image, recently installed. We had to pass through a den-set-like dark passage. As soon as we emerged out the image, a monstrous-sized Shiva in plaster-like fibre-glass moulded physique pounced on our sight, though seated. It was no Shiva, but a pop-kitsch-pastiched version of the diety, with mutiliated sense of iconography, like those thousands of Buddhas showcased in glass-cases, at every corner of Srilankan roads, or the Christ on every district in Kerala. God save Shiva from those who attempt to recreate him in a contemporary avatar. Evoking the experience of being ancient and nostalgic are the true identities of Gods in general and Shiva in particular. Due to such and other reasons, Shivaraathri has been an experience, lost and camouflaged in Bengaluru, now.

Nisha Aggarwal details myriad forms of celebrations of the harvest festival exploring the significance and rituals of the festivities throughout the country.

‘You are invited to the festival of this world and your life is blessed’, said Rabindranath Tagore. If I imply this saying of Tagore, I would say, ‘I was born in India in this world and my life is blessed’. Because the cultural diversity, thirty five divisions of India including states and union territories imbibes, elsewhere is not seen.  Each community owns the uniqueness of their culture and religious beliefs. And celebrations, mostly the religious celebration of particular community are known as ‘festivals’. The word festival devours the ‘feast’ in itself, which means any large meal. So, a meal in honor of sacred god of particular community is an essential part of any Indian festival.

I belong to Rajasthan by birth, where Punjabi and Marwari cultures have mingled to an extent. Then living in Delhi for a decade was being a deponent of cross-cultural stream of India. Now, a central government employment, with a posting in Andhra Pradesh, gives me opportunity to peep into various cultures at a single place. Here the majority of the people are Telugu speaking Andhraites, most of others are from Kerala, Tamil Nadu and the northern parts of India. I often try to hoard these cultural diversities into single pocket of mine, while living here and travelling to other places, which seems collecting the precious pebbles residing roadside.

Just now, while writing this, I am remembering the ‘colorful gems’ I have collected so far.  Picking out one amongst all is going back in the month of January this year during Makar Sankranti, when I was in Andhra Pradesh.  It is like opening up the page of a Hindu calendar, because besides being a major harvest festival of India, Sankranti is considered a New Year for Hindus also. The festival is celebrated in almost all parts of India and south Asia in myriad cultural forms. The day is also regarded as the beginning of an auspicious phase ‘the holy phase of transition’. It marks the end of an inauspicious phase which according to the Hindu calendar begins around mid-December. It is believed that any sacred ritual can be sanctified in Hindu families, this day onwards. That’s why the day is considered an ‘unasked’ auspicious day for marriages and other providential/ritual works. Scientifically, this day marks the beginning of warmer (termination of winter season) and longer days compared to the nights. It is a beginning of new harvest or spring season and cessation of the northeast monsoon in South India.

Makar Sankranti has an astrological significance. On that day the sun enters in the Capricorn (Sanskrit: Makara) zodiac constellation on its celestial path and the movement of the Sun from one zodiac sign into another is called Sankranti. So, the day is named as Makara Sankranti in Hindi/Indo-Aryan language. It is one of the few Hindu Indian festivals which are celebrated on a fixed date i.e. 14 January every year or may be sometimes on 15 January (leap year). This date remains almost constant with respect to the Gregorian calendar. However, precession of the Earth’s axis (called ayanamsa) causes Makara Sankranti to move over the ages. A thousand years ago, Makara Sankranti was on 31 December and is now on 14 January. According to calculations, from 2050 Makara Sankranti will fall on January 15.

All over the country, Makara Sankranti is celebrated with fervor and euphoria. However, it is observed with distinct names and rituals in different parts of the country. It is known as Pongal in Tamil Nadu, Uttarayan in Gujarat, Maghi in Haryana, Himachal Pradesh and Punjab, Lohri in Punjab (Lohri is celebrated a day before Makar Sankranti), Bhogali Bihu in Assam, Shishur Saenkraat in Kashmir Valley, Khichdi in Uttar Pradesh and western Bihar and as Makara Sankramana in Karnataka. The importance of this day has been signified in the ancient epics like Mahabharata also. So, apart from socio-geographical importance, this day also holds a historical and religious significance.

I had observed the ‘Sankrat’ as a festival of daughters, hieratic charity to needy ones, kite flying and an enjoyment around the ‘bonfires’ in night during my days at Rajasthan. Specially, the ladies take it as a ritual of giving any type of object (related to household, make-up or food) to 14 girls/married women/needy ones (may be because the date of festival is marked on 14^th of January). And it was something interesting as a child to me, because being a girl child I also used to be one of those 14. First Sankranti after marriage is special for a daughter. People invite friends and relatives (specially their sisters and daughters) to their home for special festival meals (Sankrant Bhoj). The day is celebrated with some special Rajasthani delicacies and sweets such as pheeni (either with sweet milk or sugar syrup dipped), til-paati, gajak, kheer, ghevar, pakodi, puwa, and til-ladoo etc.

In Andhra Pradesh, it is ‘Sankranthi’ instead of ‘Sankrant’ and celebrated for four days as Day 1-Bhogi, Day 2-Makara Sankranti (the main festival day), Day 3-Kanuma, and Day 4-Mukkanuma. On the preceding day Bhogi, people discard old and derelict things, which represent realization, transformation and purification. The next day/main festival day is marked with new clothes, praying, and offerings of traditional food to ancestors who have died. Andhra people are expert in decorating front of their homes with ornate drawings and patterns. They do it as daily ritual so how their festivals can be completed without rangoli? They usually make geometrical designs with help of ‘dots’ on the ground with chalk or flour, called ‘muggu’ or ‘Rangoli’ in Telugu. Afterwards these drawings are decorated with flowers and colors. In temples rangoli competitions are also organized on this day mainly depicting the bull and cow within design. In food people prepare Ariselu, Appalu (a sweet made of jaggery and rice flour) dappalam (a dish made with pumpkin and other vegetables), Pongal (a kind of Khichadi) and make an offering to God.

On the third day, Kanuma is celebrated. Nowadays Kanuma is not being celebrated widely as it used to be. Fourth day is called Mukkanuma which is popular among the non-vegetarians of the society. People in Coastal Andhra do not eat any meat or fish during the first three days of the festival, and do so only on the day of Mukkanuma, whereas people in Telangana region observe only the first two days as part of the festival. They eat rice cooked with til (sesame seeds) on the first day and eat meat on Makara Sankranthi (Pedda Panduga), the second day of the festival.

Another distinctive feature of the festival in Coastal Andhra Pradesh is the Haridasa who goes across the houses early in the morning with a colorfully dressed cow, singing songs of Lord Vishnu (Hari) hence the name Haridasa (servant of Hari). It is a custom that while going to everyone’s houses he should not talk to anyone and only sing songs of lord Vishnu. People offer rice and money into the pot like vessel that he wears on his head. People enjoy the festival as kite flying occasion also. The customs are different than of I experienced in Rajasthan and in Delhi, but the charm is same. And that is the one color of India, one can experience while living in any corner of the country.

Art is omnipresent; it can unbend anywhere and exists everywhere. Every place carries art within, from a famous museum to a ruins and remains of a historical site.Holding this thought Nisha Aggarwal shares her ‘artsy’ snippet of the recent travel to Warangal, in Andhra Pradesh.

Warangal is located in Telangana region of Andhra Pradesh, in northeast of the state capital Hyderabad. Warangal area is a combination of Warangal, Hanamkonda and Kazipet. Earlier Warangal was known as ‘Orugallu’ (Oru means one and Gallu means stone), and Ekasila Nagaram. As the name suggests, the entire town is believed to have carved out of a single stone. Warangal was the capital of Kakatiya kingdom ruled by Hindu Shaivite Kakatiya dynasty from 12^th-14^th century A.D. Kakatiyas started as feudatories of the Chalukyas, became dominant rulers of the Andhra territory in the 12th century. They were enthusiastic patrons of architecture as is clear from the several temples built during their reign and around their capitals at Hanamkonda and Warangal. The temples are built in a distinct architectural style derived from late Chalukyan archetypes and are recognizable by polygonal floor plans and intricately sculpted ceilings and pillars in the mandapam.

Famous for its granite quarries, Warangal is a hub for culture, industries and historical legacy. The main attractions are Warangal Fort, Thousand Pillar Temple, Bhadrakali Temple, Ramappa Temple, The Pakhal Lake and The Wild Life Sanctuary among others. But I would say a mere visit to Warangal Fort could pay all satisfaction to a day-traveler.

Warangal Fort is an important fort among medieval South Indian forts. Built by King Ganapathi Deva in 13^th century and completed by his daughter Rudrama Devi, it stood as an architectural wonder of the bygone era. It displays a rare and exquisite Thorean Architectural style. There are Thoranan Arches and the pillars are spread across an area of about 19 kilometers between Hanamkonda and Warangal.

It has three concentric fortifications, with the inner stone fortification. This three distinct circular strongholds surrounded by a moat provided three protective layers. It suggests the standards of security that used to be employed to guard the inner precincts and center of power. It signifies essence of early medieval defense architecture. The main inner fort contains 45 bastions and gateways/toranas at the four cardinal points, lead to the center where a huge Shiva Temple once existed. It demolished probably by invading armies from Delhi. These gateways/toranas are worldly known as ‘Hans Toranas’ are the finest examples of the Kakatiya art. The remarkable feature about the main gateway comprises of four gigantic pillars, which have been crafted out of a single rock. The gateways are still professed but much of the temple has ruined. Inside of fort there are shambles of many usual and religious mansions and temples. Among them most epochal is the Svayambhu Temple and shrines like Linga Shrine and Ganesa Shrine. The Archaeological Survey of India has listed the remains as a Monument of National Importance. The famous traveler Marco Polo has mentioned the fort as a symbol of beauty and legacy during his visits to south Indian forts and temples.

Another master piece known as Khush Maha, an Islamic building is situated close to Warangal Fort. Warangal Fort dated from the mid-14th century when Tughlak armies occupied the fort and from the 16th century when it became an outpost of the Bahmani and Qutb Shahi empires. Known also as Shitab Khan Mahal, it may have been used as an audience hall by Shitab Khan (Reign 1504-1512), the 16^th century Qutb Shahi governor of Warangal. However it was probably built during the 14th century Tughlak occupation of the fort, the only building from that period. Its sharply sloping walls are a typical feature of Tughlak architecture was built it Indo – saracenic style. The longer east and west walls of the building have a projecting parapet and six high arches framed by narrow rectangles. These admit light to the interior. A wide entrance arch on the north wall leads to a single spacious chamber inside with small storage rooms on each side. Transverse arches span the high ceiling. Broken fragments from the Svayambhu enclosure are placed inside the hall and near the north entrance.

Other attractions near to the place are Thousand Pillar Temple and Bhadrakali Temple, are also the fine specimen of Kakatiya architecture. Thousand Pillar Temple is located in the town of Hanamkonda, dedicated to Lord Shiva, Lord Vishnu and Lord Surya. The temple was destroyed when the Muslim Tughlaq Dynasty invaded the region; still the remaining temple is worthy to pay a visit. Not only because of its historical and architectural specialties, but for cultural values it contains. During the Telugu festivals like Pongal, Bogi etc. rangoli competitions are organized here, and a number of local people takes part and shows the colours of their regional art and creativity. Any day trip traveler would enjoy the visit to Warangal with his/her internal or omnipresent state of art, which everyone carries inside and everywhere present outside.

Delhi has had the privilege of hosting one of the major art events,India Art Fair,for 6 years now. Shubhasree Purkayastha expresses how India Art Fair is a perfect platform not only to explore and experience a different creative space but also how it is the right platform to make art reach where it is appreciated.

During my time as a student, the most anticipated event for us every January was the India Art Fair. Held in the vast complex of Pragati Maidan and now, in NSIC grounds, Okhla, the fair brought together all kinds of visual arts under one roof – from Modern to Contemporary works, being exhibited by both national and international galleries. It is the only of its kinds in India, where marketing and appreciation of art happens on that big a scale of 20,000 square meters.

Being from the background that I am, I was never inclined towards the workings of the art market, and would visit the fair every year to learn, analyse or to just enjoy the works. Eventually, I entered the “gallery-world” and that made me look at the fair in a completely different manner. From being the spectator, I was now an exhibitor and over the last two years of working with the fair, I saw a completely different side of its workings – be it setting up of a booth to managing client-relations.

The 6^th one this year, the India Art Fair was held from the 30^th of January to the 3^rd of February 2014. At one level it could not stand up to the previous years’ success rate. There was a significant decrease in the number of participating galleries and there was a drastic reduction in the sale numbers as well.

Without going into the marketing details, I wish to indulge in a walk-through with some of the works that caught my attention. The contemporary art scene in India does not connect to me in many ways and levels. Yet, at the fair, I could still find works that appealed to me and what follows is a brief account of these works.

Among the contemporary Indian artists, I have always been a fan of the artist couple Atul and Anju Dodiya. This year, while Atul Dodiya’s new series of shutters attracted a lot of attention, I was intrigued by a small watercolour on canvas by Anju titled “Death and the Maiden (After Hans Baldung)”.

Anju is known for her self-portraits addressing issues such as self-conflict, fear and anxiety. In this very recent work, the imagery is derived from a work with the same title by German painter-printmaker Hans Baldung. In her work, however, the maiden is the artist herself gripped by the fears of creative-death.

Another contemporary artist who is undoubtedly among my favourites is the Anglo-Indian Desmond Lazaro. Living in Pondicherry, far away from the tangles of the market, Desmond’s painstakingly produced works never fail to touch my heart. His most recent work at the fair very simply titled “Blue and Gold”, inscribes a couplet in gold from the Bhagavata Purana about Krishna’s ‘Rasa-Lila’. Produced on handmade paper with organic colours, his work is always testimony to the fact that many contemporary artists still employ draughtsmanship, patience and manual skill.

What I admire about this artist is precisely the above point, the fact that he has not given himself up to the current trends of installations or “new media”. He manages to produce works with current significance, while at the same time not losing touch with tradition.

While talking about new media and installation, mention must be made of Reena Saini Kallat’s solo installation that greeted people entering the main hall – a larger than life stamp that read “A change in weather is sufficient to recreate the world and ourselves.” The artist, being mostly known for her various works done using stamps as a medium, has used the same to convey a social message about global warming and its imminent dangers.

L.N.Tallur has a background in Museology. Hence all his works have a raw, “freshly dug out from earth” feel and look. While last year’s fair witnessed a large sculptural work covered in cow-dung, this year he decided to use wet clay. In the work titled “Path Finder II”, a sitting figure of a middle aged man confronted a car tyre that sprayed mud on him. The work addressed issues of mid-life crisis, running the rat-race and humoured the idea of spiritual seeking.

Another contemporary artist, well known for coming up with quirky and witty works is Valay Shinde. From constructing a cow-hide with badges displaying portraits of farmers from rural India, he has progressed now to a tiffin displaying Mumbai dubba-walahs and an Iron with portraits of your locality’s “press-wala”. What I found most intriguing was his work where two halves of an onion were placed side by side along with a knife. On looking closely, one could trace the map of the world on one of these halves. It does not need explanation to understand what the work suggested – a statement on the present situation of world politics, and how dividing the world would only end in tears (just like when one cuts an onion).

This year’s fair also showed a variety of photo series. From galleries like “Tasveer” and “Photoink” dealing exclusively with photographic works to solo projects of Riyas Komu titled “House of Collectors”, photographs were in abundance. My personal favourite was Pablo Bartholomew’s black-and-white series, “Outside In: A Tale of 3 cities” and Jean Francois Rauzier’s hyper-photos inside light-boxes.

Compared to previous years, a shift could be seen from installations to canvases in this year’s edition of India Art Fair. There was a higher concentration of modern and post-modern works, both national and international. The few artists and works that made my day were the brilliant Razas (almost every other gallery was showing a Raza!), a small mother-and-child sculpture in bronze by Ramkinker Baij at Delhi Art Gallery and original works of pop artist Andy Warhol and Roy Lichtenstein.

It is, of course, impossible to mention every single work that I connected to at this event. Suffice it to say that the show was a success in some ways, disappointing in some others. It cannot be denied that India is a booming economy and thus has great potential in the field of art-marketing. An event like this acts as a definite boost economically as well as creatively to art professionals and the layman alike.

Another major area of concern in the Indian art scene is that the gap between art and the mass has widened over the past few years. For multiple reasons, the ‘art-world’ is perceived as an elitist strata, out of reach for the general populace. A layman is intimidated by a gallery space or an art-event. This, as a consequence, widens the gap even more and is an absolute digression from the basic purpose behind art-making.

An event like this attempts to curb that distance and detachment between the maker and who the work is made for. It brings people together, and opens up a world of aesthetic enquiry and appreciation.

Hopefully, it succeeds.

While walking through the poky alleys of Shahpur Jat, Nisha Aggarwal chanced upon the shops housed in dilapidated buildings, and peeped into its rustic history. She shares her experience as she pulls Shahpur Jat  out of the clutches of time.

Two moving needles of a clock contain the most powerful invisible phenomena inside, they move within their periphery repeating the same path, but make us sense the change in whole world outside. This invisible vigor is ‘time’ which becomes visible in the form of change; in us, and in our surroundings as well.

We take pictures of ourselves, of everyday happenings and places around. Afterwards we feel, think, juxtapose and sometime enjoy the changes time brought to us, by looking at those pictures. Pictures are not only clicked by camera, human memory also does the same.

It may be my definition of ‘nostalgia’ or these days I sense it strongly whenever I come to Delhi. With every visit to Delhi I try to touch the bygone, perhaps to know what the changes time has brought in me. When I feel everything is same like it was, I feel happy and when I sense the occurred changes, I feel the ‘progress’ of time but both the things bring an ‘autumn’ pleasure.

I can add an ‘anecdote’ to this ‘autumn’ pleasure. Few days back, after a friend’s suggestion, I was re-visiting the lanes of Shahpur Jat, in South Delhi. I could see the newly opened spaces and could sense the increasing rents of floors. Shahpur Jat is an old urban village settlement and provides good spaces on rent. A lot of art students, artists and designers take this bustling creative den to make their studios.  A place with troubled lanes, filled of ‘labor class’ has become the interest of ‘elites’ .I felt it necessary to go in its history by talking with few of ‘elders’ of the place.

Shahpur Jat in South Delhi is a hybrid village enclosed within two of South Delhi’s most up-market areas, Asiad Games Village and Hauz Khas. It is listed in Lal Dora areas of Delhi. It has missed the trendy touch of city architecture, yet captures the essence of a city. The veterans of the village say it was founded around 10,000 years ago (8,000 BC) by a Hindu King.  He set up a fort and palace there. But 5000 years back, ‘Pandavas’ (of Mahabharta) took the stones of that fort to built their Capital ‘Indraprastha’ few miles away to the place. The excavations in the Old Fort Area confirm the belief that Purana Quila was built on the site of ‘Indraprastha’.

In 11th century AD, Tomar (Hindu Jat Clan) ruled Delhi. In 12th century AD, Prithviraj Chauhan was the ruler until his defeat.  13th century AD replaced Hindu rule by Muslim rulers. Mughals ruled Delhi in succession starting from Qutab-ub-din to Khilji and Tughlaqs. In 1303 AD, Allau Din Khilji conquered almost the whole of North India, he erected the First Muslim City of Delhi- ‘Siri’ on this site. Siri was a fortified city built on a large scale with places and other structures and had seven gates to enter or exit the city. Though the remains of only southern gate has found but it is said that the main palace of the fort was very beautiful and profusely decorated with precious gems and stones. Nothing remain of them except parts of its wall, a mosque and a structure called Baradari. Today Shahpur Jat has Tohfewala Gumbad Masjid and ruins of domed structure belonging to Khilji period.

Delhi passed on to the hands of the British in 1803 AD. It was only in 1911, when the capital of British empire was shifted from Calcutta to Delhi. During this period, 900 years ago the modern history of Shahpur Jat starts. This was the time when Dagar clan from Indri ( a village in Haryana) shifted to Shahpur Jat area. The fertile land and their agriculture skill helped them accumulate wealth in a short period of time. this attracted Panwar clan and other castes to the area. By then this area was called Shah (wealth) Pur (colony) Jat (a clan),meant a locality of the rich Jats and acquired the name ‘Shahpur Jat’.

This time Shahpur Jat had farmlands spreading from Hauz Khas and Andrewsganj to Greater Kailash and Malviya Nagar. The move came up in 1978, when Government acquired the lands from most of the Jats by paying the sturdy compensations to them. On these acquired lands posh colonies of Asiad Village, Panchsheel Park and Hauz Khas were raised. The Jats with their compensation money expanded their small open houses to cramped up, matchbox like haphazard concrete structures. The multi-stories houses were coming up now. Slowly when the place emerged as the centre for basement workshops and its migrant population bloated, the ex-farmers discovered gold in real estate. The landlords created virtual acres by raising floors on their houses, which they rented to tailoring units. The big fortune came with the arrival of boutiques at the turn of the century.

Today, Shahpur Jat has over a hundred stores of Indian and European fashion, art cafes, book stores and home decors. Few art galleries has also opened up. The designers or artists living here are not notably rich, but they are comfortably creating their art and engaged in the process of their employment. But a large number of stores are shifting their location to Shahpur Jat, from Hauz Khas Village and Khan Market following NDMC crackdowns and high rents. The entry of such gazebo stores seems impatience to grow commercialization. And Shahpur Jat is lifting up as a new alternative space for everything trendy, a status usually reserved for Hauz Khas Village.

Still a majority of the designers and the residents want the village to stay the way it is. Larger crowds and bigger brands may rob the ‘hybridized’ charm of Shahpur Jat, and quiet working spaces of the artists. But people of Shahpur Jat reject the possibility of its fate like of Hauz Khas or Khan Market because of the Jats. The Jat owners in the past 15 years have never sold a single property outside their community, but have only let out spaces on rent. They have also refused all liquor licenses which is why there is no bar and pub is seen in the locality.

Inspite of all the ‘elite’ changes,he unplanned multistory buildings hiding the sky to eyes, the overhanging wires, the peeping eyes of mannequins through the glass walls of designer’s shops, and a mix crowd of animals and human (of all classes including the foreigners) both.

The remains of the Old Fortified history still stand tacit imbibing the whole story of change within. A cyber cafe opened in a senile house keep its artistic value. A closed up Government school just near the entry of Jungi House seems distant and detached from all the capitalist forces of the place. I feel the growing ‘art’ of economy (of landlords, tailors, designers and all the ‘artists’ living here) has found a place to survive which has once enjoyed the royal patronage and today enjoying the status of ‘alternative’ but still a maze. I would conclude with the words of Sam Miller, the writer and historian while standing atop the ruins of a tomb, taking a walk around Shahpur Jat, ‘Art lives to survive only when it has a purpose or when it’s in the middle of nowhere.’

Celebrating the “old” , the place “that was” through his words, H.A. Anil Kumar finds and relives Yeshwanthpur in the new Bengaluru

The conductor took five paise each, from both my friend and myself, gave back one-five-paise, tore a ticket into two and distributed it between us. It was a Saturday afternoon, we were studying in the primary school and it was a regular Saturday-discount for us, while travelling from Malleswaram to Yeshwanthpur (north of Bangalore), in the early 1970s. Only one eyebrow of the bus conductor – ‘Shivajirao’ written on his badge — was all that was visible on his forehead, which went missing for a while, later. After a couple of years, he, the now superstar Rajnikanth, reappeared as the poster-villain in the Kannada film ‘Katha Sangama’! He was our conductor in route no.1 and 14, in Bengaluru.

Occasionally we classmates would walk between these two points, from our school to our respective homes, not because he had quit ‘conducting’ his transport profession. This ritualistic, weekly-once walk via the Indian Institute of Science campus (begun in 1910) was meant to pick up gulaganji seeds, seemingly lacquered red-black in appearance, in order to make costly-looking beads that would be pierced through a thread. These seeds can be picked up even now, under the lush green trees of IISc campus. Entering and emerging out of it, now, even after four decades, seems like passing through a frozen time. If pollution is the first thing that one smells (literally) in today’s Bengaluru, it is ‘nostalgia’ that one does with IISc. The city around it has changed, or would it have remained ‘as-it-is’ even if the city wouldn’t have changed?

Institutions are supposed to be the first to change; and change the city around it. Here is a case wherein it is preaching the city that not-changing is the best way to change! Yeshwanthpur, to the north-eastern part of the city and just outside IISc, is the only space that seems to have learnt a lesson or two from this scientific institution’s scientific outlook. It is like a mom learning from her kids, since it is so old that they have found 300BC Roman coins in Yeshwanthpur, the location carries a seemingly-Marathi-name and is older to the ‘ITised-Bangalore’ by at least 1200 years.  At the same, they say that in another fifty years Mexico and Bangalore—both — would be deserted due to lack of water sources! If that is the case, IISc and Yeshwanthpur would be the two places that would yet outlive the city.

My birthplace was in a village outside Bangalore. My parents moved into the city to educate us; and now my village is part of the larger-Bangalore. This poses a philosophical paradox: I was an outsider to Bangalore, from a place which is Bangalore now. Paradoxes never let you settle; and settle at a place with singular identity.

We settled down in Yeshwanthpur, went to school to the next-town called Malleswaram, to a Brahmin-Convent, where one could learn English without the fear of being baptized into Christianity. The famous Himamshu School — which looks the same even now, from outside – was a poor man’s (child’s) equivalent to ‘convent education’.

In a way I am an old-Yeshwantpurite. The Vidhyarthi Bhavan known for dosa and Kannada literary personalities’ regular visits; Dewar’s pub wherein the British would pour a drink to the Indians who were made to compulsorily wait outside its doors, the Kothas Coffee powder shop in Malleswaram, the Kohinoor chai shop in Brigade road, the Boulevard on M.G.Road, Ramakrishna Mutt in Hanumanthanagar, the garadi manes (fitness gym with local and Vijayanagar flavor), the Koshys café – all in all, still exist and frame a different Bengaluru with Yeshwanthpur at its top. ‘Bengaluru’ is the foundation upon which a mindlessly inarticulate architectural disaster called as ‘Bangalore’ was construed. Yeshwanthpur was and is going to be a part of Bengaluru, arguably forever.

The day when Dr.Rajkumar, the Kannada film superstar of five decades, passed away, a non-Kannadiga art gallery owner and wife to a famous artist, born and brought up in Bengaluru, asked what is so great about him. Someone asked her to wait for another twenty four hours. There were seven people dead by the time the stalwart was put to rest (2006), when the burial procession went through Yeshwanthpur and through fan-frenzy-madness, despite a prediction of it! All of us knew for sure that that would be the last time some ‘one’ captured the imagination of the city, enmasse. In fact the coffin with Raj Kumar’s body went missing for an hour; and – realistically and metaphorically — was retraced amongst the fans, by a comedian, inside the Bangalore Palace, belonging to Mysore Maharaja, near Yeshwanthpur! This dear locality of mine is a site wherein a comedian heroically recovers the missing body of a hero, after the latter’s natural demise, from the Maharaja’s abode, in (the time of) a democratic State. This reality is so analogous to all multiple-dimensions that Yeshwanthpur – an old Bengaluru premise — has gone through.

I had seen Indira Gandhi give a talk and the goggled Mysore Maharaja on a horse in Yeshwanthpur near the current road transport office at Yeshwanthpur in 1970s. The only change is that the office was an open field, then, meant for such political and bureaucratic affairs. Even now, two BMW cars find it difficult to cross each other in these streets, without side stepping the other’s legs or rather wheels!

Yeshwanthpur is that part of Bengaluru that refutes metamorphosis of any kind. This is true despite the fact that the biggest Metro of the city (Orion mall) is located just outside it. The single screen ‘Gopal’ film theatre which would charge not more than rupees five for a balcony ticket then, though charges 100 rupees now, is still intact, both as a memory and a reality. The barber used to make his client suspend his legs into the dry ditch, make him hold the mirror in one hand and an umbrella against heat in the other, while giving him a close shave or a haircut. No doubt that the umbrella was not meant for the client. This was in front of the location’s prime spot: the government school and next to the railway lines. These still do exist, despite Yeshwanthpur railway station having become a nationally familiar railway-stop. It’s easier to pick up a railway ticket to wherever from here rather than at the city-central station; and only Yeshwanthpur-dwellers know it!

The roads at Yeshwanthpur are as narrow as it was four decades ago, the market is still lack luster, the smell of the old oil shop is intact, and the garbage is almost nascent. Between 1970 and 79, we had changed eight houses within this locality. And recently when I took a stroll throughout, I found out that none of the houses existed, neither were they demolished and built over! There were additions upon old constructions, like plaster molds upon wounded limbs. The wound remains and the mound camouflages. The smell of the chai shops, the afternoon heat of asphalted rustic roadside, the samosa-chai-shops, the small arrack shops (local pubs), the half-lit-electric-bulbs, the dull rainy evenings — all in all do exist, despite the onslaught of LED colour televisions, small-malls and urbanism all around it. Yeshwanthpur is the place inside the metropolis-Bengaluru, which makes you feel that you are at its margin, at the rural-Bengaluru site.

In the 80s, the famous Mangharam’s Biscuit Factory to the east of Yeshwanthpur was attacked. The huge bus loaded with varieties of Christmas biscuits, to be transported to Bombay, was emptied by the localities. It was so because it seems the localites who were promised with jobs inside the factory (for having pledged their land to the factory) were kept waiting for too long. When I returned from school, from Malleswaram to Yeshwanthpur, my locality was full of biscuit packs – in the dustbin, hay stack, under the bed, above the roof – in the most unpredictable sites. The next day, a relative who had legally brought glucose biscuit from the shop was also arrested, along with all men above 18 years, from this place and were stationed at Yeshwanthpur police station, which is still intact!

Most of those arrested were my relatives, by blood or by friendship. Some have gone, others remind of those who have left, just like Yeshwanthpur. It has withstood the onslaught of the neo-capitalistic IT globalization of Bangalore, like the Gauls resist the Romans in Asterix comics. It has evolved in such a way as to not to change easily!

When I recently went into a small shed-like samosa-chai shop at Yeshwanthpur, the old 70s songs were being placed. The ambience of the smell, sound and space were intact. Earlier those were contemporary songs from the radio. Now, the owner had gone out of his way to buy a DVD consisting of those old songs. There was someone like me; both of us knew that here is the place within Bengaluru wherein two varying times (and nostalgia in-between) co-exists. He was one of those guys who had pledged their vast lands at Yeshwanthpur, to a landlord, just for the temptation of regularly eating masala dosa and coffee, in the 50s!