It must have been more than two decades back............yes, exactly...........give or take a year or two. A magical summer where we went to Texas, and like sensible little Indians made a trip to the Nasa Space Centre, Houston. The turning point in my life should have been the whole new world of the stars opening out in front of my eyes in the first world American wizardry.
No....for me it was the moment we chose to walk across the sprawling grounds of NASA, not on the designated pathways like good tourists but on the deliciously green grass. As the jaunty third officer and radio officer of our ship put it, our small little rebellion was pardonable because, 'excuse us ...................we are Indian."
While in many ways that rambunctious duo has formed my opinion of men, at an impressionable age......I love bad boys still!...............It also goes on to prove our own perception of ourselves. Mine has changed with time. I have ceased to be apologetic about a lot of things that irk a foreign eye. I dont care to explain to them about our social and class systems any more, I simply refuse to put up with their rants and raves about our lack of infrastructure, (and still they come here...need I say more?), and I cannot abide being asked questions that begin with, "Do all Indians...............?". There is actually no such thing as all Indians. In fact Indians would scratch their head in puzzzlement if you asked them to explain fellow countrypeople to a foreigner. How can you expect to classify and categorize a trillion people in one sentence like a genus of butterflies, moths or sundry insects? Its myopic.
In this respect I think my son's generation has it better. They seem more able to express themselves and they have a confidence we lacked. Our parents of course lived in terror of upsetting status quo and apple carts, the fact that thye had been born slaves and were freed while they walked or crawled as infants still lies somewhere under their skin. Perhaps that is why their generation slaved and scrimped and survived in foriegn lands struggling for citizenships, green cards, work permits, mortgages and worked their way up the ladder.
In the past few months I have met two young women, who went to western countries to seek their fortune and want to come back. They admit to noticing an invisible glass ceiling that has always existed but never been acknowledged, and now they want to come back, to an environment where they get to be at peak, and get to have a go at trying to reach higher. Something they cannot do in the host country they stay in.
Maybe its time we started accepting ourselves, loving ourselves a little more, and giving in to our baser impulses. No on caught us when we walked on that grass that afternoon. It saved us an additional twenty minutes in the sun and well..................it felt Indian!
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Saturday, April 21, 2007
The Relevance of Art
Sometimes I think Marx got it right when he said that all art, should be the perogative not of the artist or the consumer, but of the public. Art cuts across various mediums and creates a platform for thought and debate. Unfortunately, in our country, art has begun to have an elitist connotation. The newspapers today are full of the financial value of a work of art, the pulling power of the artist, or the glitterati who attended them.
Whatever happened to the art?
Where is the future of art in our country going? Will we continue to fete the old masters, or allow the resurging new voices to emerge. I recently went to an art exhibition which had a group of young artists showing their installations and creative expression. The medium for the same traversed various genres, from furniture, to remote controlled mechanical devices to pop art, and digitally reworked expression. Among my favourite pieces was a piece dedicated to the commuters of Mumbai, a swinging pedal device and to the street vendors to display their wares. Another one that captured me in its still calm was a set of six crutches working through a motor on a wooden table.
Atypical, kitschy, crazy, wierd, and even disturbing would be the way I would denote some of the works on display. But then, is that not the true purpose of art? To bring out comment, dissension, praise, passion, awe, fear and even disgust?
Is art not expressed to create reaction, and not always of a financial kind?
The measure of a true work of art lies not in it's financial value, or its beauty, but in it's endurance and relevance which cuts across the modalities of time and space. That is why Van Gogh's vase of flowers, or Ruben's curvaceous angels still elicit a smile.
Closer to home, Indian art has a rich legacy, and if I may venture to add, a rich future if the young artists are allowed the financial and creative freedom to work.
In the end, its more than the celebrities and the money, so lets break the ice and talk about the work itself!
Whatever happened to the art?
Where is the future of art in our country going? Will we continue to fete the old masters, or allow the resurging new voices to emerge. I recently went to an art exhibition which had a group of young artists showing their installations and creative expression. The medium for the same traversed various genres, from furniture, to remote controlled mechanical devices to pop art, and digitally reworked expression. Among my favourite pieces was a piece dedicated to the commuters of Mumbai, a swinging pedal device and to the street vendors to display their wares. Another one that captured me in its still calm was a set of six crutches working through a motor on a wooden table.
Atypical, kitschy, crazy, wierd, and even disturbing would be the way I would denote some of the works on display. But then, is that not the true purpose of art? To bring out comment, dissension, praise, passion, awe, fear and even disgust?
Is art not expressed to create reaction, and not always of a financial kind?
The measure of a true work of art lies not in it's financial value, or its beauty, but in it's endurance and relevance which cuts across the modalities of time and space. That is why Van Gogh's vase of flowers, or Ruben's curvaceous angels still elicit a smile.
Closer to home, Indian art has a rich legacy, and if I may venture to add, a rich future if the young artists are allowed the financial and creative freedom to work.
In the end, its more than the celebrities and the money, so lets break the ice and talk about the work itself!
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Cos.........they are just children!
Yesterday, I went to see a play produced by a dear friend and mentor, created by a theatre group called Pandies. Pandies has been a radical feminist theatre group picking up social issues and creating awareness on the way our idealogical perspectives have created a self-defeating society.
In it's current avatar Pandies has moved beyond the 'three walls' theatre of the auditoriums and worked with street children and children affected by violence and terrorism. Though I have not always whole heartedly agreed with every perspective of the group, having been a member since it's inception, I passionately believe in their passion!
This time, Pandies has been working with an NGO called 'Saksham' which has been consistently working with slum children near the areas adjoining Noida. Nithari has also been one of the areas they have been working in. Till January 2007, Nithari was just another place they worked with children and helped them become more aware of the dichotomies of their lives. Post January 2007, things have changed a quite a bit.
The plays performed includeed two more segments: One a skit of what the children belived actually happened in D5, and believe me when you see another child casually lopping off imaginary limbs from a child co-actor, it scares you more than any newspaper or tv coverage would!
The other a conversation which followed into an interaction with the audience on what the NGO and theatre group have worked to achieve both pre and post Nithari.
The skits covered various issues the children face in their day to day lives: money, education, child labour, bad parenting, cruel intentions, religious bigotry and riots, and even love affairs which go off into tangential directions.
The plays have been scripted, directed and conceptualised by the children. The adults are around just to help them fine tune their ideas. Creative imagination lends itself to a boistrous and ebullient set of performances. There is always closure as everything returns to the natural order in the end. The world is utopian, imagined by children and very far away from the perspective of an adult.
While there was much debate on social issues and the Nithari debate did rage on, what mattered to me more, as an adult, a parent and a closet performer, was the children. Their innocence, their sense of fun, their desire to live in a better world, unlike the one we have given them, their intuitive sense of understanding, took you away from the slum clusters of their life to a wonderful imaginary world created by their expression. As a parent I know how much it takes to get 5o odd children to perform on stage towards a logical conclusion. As a parent I hoped their parents felt pride seeing them take to the stage so naturally. As a parent I wished they could all find their natural birthright: love, respect and nurturing.
In the end, they are just children. Surrounded by violence of the grossest kind, surrounded by poverty, need, apathy and neglect they still find time to be children, and for that one must always salute them!
In it's current avatar Pandies has moved beyond the 'three walls' theatre of the auditoriums and worked with street children and children affected by violence and terrorism. Though I have not always whole heartedly agreed with every perspective of the group, having been a member since it's inception, I passionately believe in their passion!
This time, Pandies has been working with an NGO called 'Saksham' which has been consistently working with slum children near the areas adjoining Noida. Nithari has also been one of the areas they have been working in. Till January 2007, Nithari was just another place they worked with children and helped them become more aware of the dichotomies of their lives. Post January 2007, things have changed a quite a bit.
The plays performed includeed two more segments: One a skit of what the children belived actually happened in D5, and believe me when you see another child casually lopping off imaginary limbs from a child co-actor, it scares you more than any newspaper or tv coverage would!
The other a conversation which followed into an interaction with the audience on what the NGO and theatre group have worked to achieve both pre and post Nithari.
The skits covered various issues the children face in their day to day lives: money, education, child labour, bad parenting, cruel intentions, religious bigotry and riots, and even love affairs which go off into tangential directions.
The plays have been scripted, directed and conceptualised by the children. The adults are around just to help them fine tune their ideas. Creative imagination lends itself to a boistrous and ebullient set of performances. There is always closure as everything returns to the natural order in the end. The world is utopian, imagined by children and very far away from the perspective of an adult.
While there was much debate on social issues and the Nithari debate did rage on, what mattered to me more, as an adult, a parent and a closet performer, was the children. Their innocence, their sense of fun, their desire to live in a better world, unlike the one we have given them, their intuitive sense of understanding, took you away from the slum clusters of their life to a wonderful imaginary world created by their expression. As a parent I know how much it takes to get 5o odd children to perform on stage towards a logical conclusion. As a parent I hoped their parents felt pride seeing them take to the stage so naturally. As a parent I wished they could all find their natural birthright: love, respect and nurturing.
In the end, they are just children. Surrounded by violence of the grossest kind, surrounded by poverty, need, apathy and neglect they still find time to be children, and for that one must always salute them!
Sunday, April 8, 2007
Th best item number aka where is the party tonight?
It is foregone conclusion that partying in your thrities gets affected by many irritants: these include children, house guests, work, absent spouses, warring friends, divorces among friends ie no couples to go out with, money (do i really want to pay 2 grand to be pushed around and drink watered down alchohol?), etc etc.
But some saturday nights the pressure of the weekend gets to you and you need to be out on a saturday night. This is a typical scenaio of my saturday night partying. At 6 pm after getting to know that one gang of buddies whom we usually hook up with are planningto sit in and drink for the nth time, I call up r and a friends of ours, and also a cosy twosome. After going through distances and cover charges we decided on Tapas, at Jay pee vasant.
R agreed as long as we picked and dropped her. All sounded good till the husband dropped the bomb, "Hey I ned to be outta the house at 7 tom!"
Tunign around in shock, I said, "But, thats too early....we arent leaving the house till 9, I mean who wants to go out partying at 9 in the evning?"
He gave me dirty looks, I called r who was getting her hair done at the parlour and she croaked, "I'm gonna take an hour." she relented after i threatened to cancel, and with two people already screaming at me for bad organisational skills we bundled the kid into the car, dumped him at my parent's for the night, and zipped halfway across Suraj Kund area to pick up r. Post which the husband had to go to the temple in gk 2, and r got paranoid on the time.
"Better call up a and tell him we will be late, " she muttered, "he screams otherwise."
"Shuck...i thought all that only happened after mariage." i said smugly, and this was after I had threatened my husband that i would call up our son and complain to him about his bad driving all the way to gk 2.
Tapas had only three white chicks, and two seedy uncles in a corner when we reached but at 500 chips a couple it wasnt so bad.
WE eyed a skinny chick surreptiously and decided that thin wasnt hot and a girl had to have some meat on her bones. Saturdays are sala nights at Tapas so the music was vintage Latino and did nothing for us.
When r and i went to argue this out with the dj, he shrugged and said it had to be latino till 11 as per their rules, to which r helpfully pointed out, "No one is dancing"
at which I soothingly informed him that he was Anal.
the music changed after that to shaka laka latina at which we decided to shake a leg, and that is when the item number happened
a white girl , quite tubby, a bit unkept and wearing a white sports bra and a rag for a skirt too to the floor. Her performance was a pure Bollywood item number, complete with jhatkas and matkas. R and I got off the floor to let the lady have her space.
:Do you think she is white trash, or euro flesh?", i asked.
the husband shrugged obviosuly enjoying the dance.
actually wierd things always happen aound me. Like the time i decide to go to climax there is an excise raid and everyone gets thrown out. Or the time when i go out and get picked up by a 15 year old girl in Orange room, this time my luck has the performance. As an assuredly sleazy time it was great fun.
what got to me was the woman's confidence. She danced in front of a crowded room, with all sorts of people including some pot bellied uncles. And she was hot about herself despit having a very ordinary and chubby figure.
After that of course we took to the floor. and danced to some great house music.
as post script, we left when we overheard a girl negotiating a rate for the night with an 'uncle', and discussed tubby performer as
1. she was a stra struck chick learning bollywood dance from a guru in india.
2. she overshot the flight to goa and landed in delhi by mistake
3. she was a happy girl
Frankly who cared, the anal dj ould have played some nice bollywood numbers and we would have got the cellulite moving too.....................but in the end we left happy and fulfilled that saturday night had been given its just respect.
But some saturday nights the pressure of the weekend gets to you and you need to be out on a saturday night. This is a typical scenaio of my saturday night partying. At 6 pm after getting to know that one gang of buddies whom we usually hook up with are planningto sit in and drink for the nth time, I call up r and a friends of ours, and also a cosy twosome. After going through distances and cover charges we decided on Tapas, at Jay pee vasant.
R agreed as long as we picked and dropped her. All sounded good till the husband dropped the bomb, "Hey I ned to be outta the house at 7 tom!"
Tunign around in shock, I said, "But, thats too early....we arent leaving the house till 9, I mean who wants to go out partying at 9 in the evning?"
He gave me dirty looks, I called r who was getting her hair done at the parlour and she croaked, "I'm gonna take an hour." she relented after i threatened to cancel, and with two people already screaming at me for bad organisational skills we bundled the kid into the car, dumped him at my parent's for the night, and zipped halfway across Suraj Kund area to pick up r. Post which the husband had to go to the temple in gk 2, and r got paranoid on the time.
"Better call up a and tell him we will be late, " she muttered, "he screams otherwise."
"Shuck...i thought all that only happened after mariage." i said smugly, and this was after I had threatened my husband that i would call up our son and complain to him about his bad driving all the way to gk 2.
Tapas had only three white chicks, and two seedy uncles in a corner when we reached but at 500 chips a couple it wasnt so bad.
WE eyed a skinny chick surreptiously and decided that thin wasnt hot and a girl had to have some meat on her bones. Saturdays are sala nights at Tapas so the music was vintage Latino and did nothing for us.
When r and i went to argue this out with the dj, he shrugged and said it had to be latino till 11 as per their rules, to which r helpfully pointed out, "No one is dancing"
at which I soothingly informed him that he was Anal.
the music changed after that to shaka laka latina at which we decided to shake a leg, and that is when the item number happened
a white girl , quite tubby, a bit unkept and wearing a white sports bra and a rag for a skirt too to the floor. Her performance was a pure Bollywood item number, complete with jhatkas and matkas. R and I got off the floor to let the lady have her space.
:Do you think she is white trash, or euro flesh?", i asked.
the husband shrugged obviosuly enjoying the dance.
actually wierd things always happen aound me. Like the time i decide to go to climax there is an excise raid and everyone gets thrown out. Or the time when i go out and get picked up by a 15 year old girl in Orange room, this time my luck has the performance. As an assuredly sleazy time it was great fun.
what got to me was the woman's confidence. She danced in front of a crowded room, with all sorts of people including some pot bellied uncles. And she was hot about herself despit having a very ordinary and chubby figure.
After that of course we took to the floor. and danced to some great house music.
as post script, we left when we overheard a girl negotiating a rate for the night with an 'uncle', and discussed tubby performer as
1. she was a stra struck chick learning bollywood dance from a guru in india.
2. she overshot the flight to goa and landed in delhi by mistake
3. she was a happy girl
Frankly who cared, the anal dj ould have played some nice bollywood numbers and we would have got the cellulite moving too.....................but in the end we left happy and fulfilled that saturday night had been given its just respect.
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