In Praise of a Dearly Departed Grandparent

Originally written on my grandfather’s 90th Birthday.

Dearest Dadu,

‘Happy Birthday’ seems trite for the occasion. You are ’90 years young’, as I like to say, today! Now that is a momentous feat indeed. I imagine one would like to say that about themselves one day – but I am not so sure. It seems aspirational but also terribly daunting to me.

I wonder, if I have the confidence and strength to carry the burden of my meagre responsibility, which will undoubtedly continue to grow; I wonder, will I be able to shoulder the weight of my dignity, will I be able to nurture my relationships with grace, and will I be able to bide my time with integrity, like you have done so well. Will I be able to accomplish my lofty dreams without the excuse of limited time? Will I be proud, or will I be burdened with the compounded weight of missed opportunities, regret and guilt?

Perhaps this is the most important question of the human condition, the root of our fear and pain. It is of no wonder then, that my most significant memory with you is from about a year ago – in a candid moment, from your hospital bed at home, you held my hand and told me that you wanted to live till you were a 100 years old. But not because you had things left to accomplish, no it was for the sheer joy of living. You went on to say that you had lived a “great life”, that you had fulfilled all your responsibilities and had done the right thing all along – the very best that you were capable of, in every walk of life.

That is the highest compliment for anyone to receive. But to say it about oneself, in earnest, is perhaps the greatest accomplishment possible. That day, I felt proud to be your granddaughter. Your words inspired me to value the smaller moments and to hold myself to higher standards. I will remember that moment as your most valuable lesson to me.

Growing up, you were my best friend. I was somewhat of a lonely child. I did not have many friends and always felt awkward and slightly unusual around other children my age. But you were always around to cheer me up – you told me stories of the British Raj, of your struggles with poverty and adventures of your journeys. You transported me to the faraway lands of Timbuktoo where I could meet “Jhindia” (a beloved children’s tale), sang me your favorite songs and never tired of my boardgames. You also gave me my love for food, which started with our adventures of finding the right combination of cheese slices, chutneys, achars and bhujiya to go with ‘mathris’. We had many rituals, including our annuals trips to the pataka market right before diwali and to watch the Ram Leela performance unfailingly every year on Dussehra. You were my best friend!

Even back then, I was grateful, and could only return the favor by presenting you with my favorite dolls or toys because I owned nothing of greater value to me. Even today, I cannot give you anything more than my sincerest love, utmost gratitude, and my most prized possession – my words. Thank you or everything, Dadu. I hope I can make you proud as you smile down on me.

With all my love,

Nupur

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The Kochi-Muziris Biennale 2018: In Conversation with Indrapramit Roy

Article via Gallery Ark

A few of us at Gallery Ark had the pleasure of visiting the Kochi-Muziris Biennale 2019 with Indrapramit Roy, who is a practicing artist, an Associate Professor of painting and the Dean of students at the Maharaja Sayajirao University in Vadodara. He studied printmaking in Shantiniketan and subsequently painting at MSU Vadodara. He was awarded Inlaks Scholarship to study MA Painting (1990-92) at the Royal College of Art, London, which included a term at Cite des Arts, Paris. He also spent a term at the Hochschule der Kunst, Berlin on an Erasmus Exchange Scholarship. He has been shown widely nationally and internationally.

More importantly, Indro Sir is an exceedingly patient teacher who is truly happy to take anyone under his wing. Our Biennale experience was greatly enhanced by his company, his sheer energy and curiosity to take in as much as possible, his uninhibited manner of answering questions and imparting his vast knowledge on just about anything in the art field. We have therefore chosen to chronicle our journey by way of an interview with Prof. Indrapramit Roy, paraphrased by Nupur Dalmia.

What is the purpose of a Biennale?

The idea of a Biennale is to bring together the ‘best’ of contemporary art from across the world, but it is naturally colored by vision of each curator. The Biennale means to look closely at how art is evolving. Consider tribal art for instance, which by definition, is rooted in cultural and religious motifs of a region. There is a contemporary happening here too. Santosh Kumar Das from Delhi works within the framework of Madhubani painting but instead of portraying the traditional Krishna myths, his work is extremely political or intently personal. Durgabai Vyam and her husband, featured in this Biennale, are also trying to push the scope of folk art. Hybridity makes art alive, as it does cultures. ‘Pure’ art or culture is a myth and evolution is essential for its relevance. New words added to a language are proof that it is living. Similarly, art looks to outside cultures and prevailing vocabularies to absorb new elements. However, not all artists experiment.

Unlike other shows, the Biennale is spread over a large span of three months. Art is displayed in makeshift venues that are not specifically designed for this purpose. Therefore, the curatorial challenge is to find appropriate homes for works of all sizes, natures and mediums, in a manner harmoniously comes together.

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via Indian Express

Can you describe Anita Dube’s curatorial intent and its execution?

Anita is well known for making political statements through art. As part of the Radical Group, she comes from an outré, slightly anti establishment, school of thought. Contemporary art often takes that position in its effort to look at alternative practices beyond painting, sculpture, printmaking. This energy is most obviously reflected in the works of Chittaprosad, Krishnakumar, BV Doshi, and Shilpa Gupta, but most others also touch upon relevant social and political themes.

Her focus seems to lie on introducing people outside the art fraternity to contemporary art. To that effect, she has included several works that are not necessarily new but are arguably the most noteworthy works of an artist – works that one might be familiar with in theory. I see merit in her strategy because, William Kentridge’s video installation for instance, creates vastly different experiences when seen in person as opposed to when seen on YouTube. Perhaps then, the curatorial intent is slightly didactic in its consideration for teaching the audience. It places importance on artists working with pertinent issues through alternative mediums and/or practices vis a vis artists creating experiential works. Some salient issues include the recent Kerala floods, the state of feminism in India, the environment, politics, and more. This also happens to be an international art trend at the moment.

There is more subjectivity involved in this genre. Two individuals will always react differently to a work of art, but if the work is commenting on a social issue, its perception will also be colored by a viewer’s opinion and experience of that issue. A degree of background knowledge about the artist and the work becomes essential to properly understand such works and therefore, the viewers’ discipline has a huge bearing on the curatorial efficacy.

Given the didactic intent, I wonder if the Biennale provides an equally rich experience for a professor like yourself as compared to a newcomer?

Perhaps not. Although the wall texts provide some background, they cannot substitute a long term familiarity with an artist’s work. But this is not an apples-to-apples comparison. Good art will always have appeal across the board because it is nuanced. It is not necessary to catch all the nuances – a few are evident at face value and each one is likely to be revelation enough.

Good children’s literature is a fitting analogy. It is read and re-read by children and adults alike, simply because there are new discoveries to be made each time in the subtext. Consider for instance, Alice in Wonderland. As child is most interested in the story, the fantasy of it, whereas an adult might wonder where the story comes from, whether it reflects life. Their experiences are different but both impactful in their own right, much like good art. When I look back at my Biennale experience, some works come to mind first, some will even stay with me forever because they have moved me fundamentally. All good art will have an undeniable impact in varying and subjective degrees.

IMG_2946Smiling Angels from the Sky, Installation by Heri Dono

What are some noteworthy works this year, that are a must-see in limited time?

The Aspinwall (ft. Anju Dodiya, Song Dong, Martha Rosler, etc), Pepper House (ft. Lubna Chowdhary, and Heri Dono) and the Durbar hall (ft. Mrinalini Mukherjee, Chittaprosad, and KP Krishnakumar) are must-see venues.

William Kentridge and Heri Dono were the biggest highlights for me this time. They both use a certain levity and are transversed with surprising elements of humor. While they are enjoyable as they are, they reveal interesting perspectives on the tragic apartheid in South Africa and long history of colonization in Indonesia. 

There were several works with interesting subtleties. A few that immediately come to mind are, the interesting experiment by Oorali Express, Bapi Das’s embroidered autorickshaws, Sue Williamson’s One Hundred and Nineteen Deeds of Sale, Martha Rosler’s collages with magazine illustrations of a middle-class existence during wartime called House Beautiful: Bringing the War Home, EB Itso’s photographs, Cyrus Kabiru’s photographs, Lubna Chawdhary’s Metropolis, Gargi & Veer Munshi in the Kashmir Pavillion, the immensly moving work by Chittaprosad in Durbar Hall, Kaushik Mukopadhyay’s Small, Medium but not Large, photographs of Giles klark and Nick Ut, the Guerilla Girls were fun, I got to see Krishakumar’s drawings after a very long time, and lastly after having seen her large solo, Mrinalini Mukherjee’s work was very interesting in this context.

Some interesting videos besides Kentridge were Song Dong’s Touching my Father video, and Kobenhavn H by EB Itso & Adam Kraft, a film about living on the fringe of society in a hideaway on railway tracks, was moving in the parts that depended on visuals. The rest of it felt like a documentary; I wish it said a little less. Sanna Irshad Mattoo’s video in the kashmir pavilion about a gravedigger sharing his misery was also interesting. He narrates stories of a grave digs repeatedly for different sets of visitors looking for a relative, but they are all faced with disappointment. He talks in a matter of factly manner but he sounds very emotional. Finally, it ends with him saying ‘no let them rest’. While this has a strong documentary feel to it as well, the man’s face and its changing emotions give the impression of animated black and white photos.

met5cropMetropolis by Lubna Chowdhary

Were there any works that particularly disappointed you?

I did not particularly like the film on Shantiniketan by the Otolith Group. If the intention was to promote Shantiniketan or educate the world about it, as someone who knows the place well, I do not think it was accurately portrayed. The drone photographs and snippets of culture felt rather gimmicky.

One would expect Jun Ngyuen Hatsushiba’s video Towards the Complex-For the Courageous, the Curious, and the Cowards, of pulling a rickshaw underwater to be more immersive. While it was interesting, the physical experience of wading through water did not add much to the viewers experience. Last year that space had a work by Raul Zurita called The Sea of Pain, which also required viewers to walk through water. In contrast, my experience of Zurita’s was so moving that it was difficult to hold back tears. Unfortunately, it is impossible not to compare works with those from previous editions, especially ones that share similar elements or the display venue.

Speaking of videos, there were quite a few of those in this edition. How does this affect the biennale as a whole? Does it give too much weightage to one medium relative to others? What are your thoughts on the videos?

Indeed, it felt like this edition was celebrating video as a medium but the other forms and mediums were also represented significantly if not equally. The idea is to display works that best fit Anita’s curatorial scheme. Having said that, as a painter myself, I do wish there were more painterly works. There were not too many of those with some great exceptions like Nilima Sheikh.

In light of some mixed opinions around the videos, it is important to consider that a video made by a painter or sculptor will have vastly different grammars than that of a filmmaker. For one, the artist’s video may not have a narrative at all. They are also likely to use time differently. An artist often uses videos to slow time down, to set his own pace for the viewer’s experience.

William Kentridge’s 8 panelled video art “More Sweetly Play The dance” is being talked about a lot. What makes it significant? – content, aesthetics, skill, concept?

The work is stunning in its visuality and its sheer power to hold you transfixed for multiple reruns, noticing something new each time. It was a very immersive experience with an intrinsic “Africanness” about it. Kentridge is from South Africa, and despite the country’s tormented recent past, the video is almost celebratory on the face of it. The dance, music, rhythm, and the drama of that entire vista creates a spectacle that is impossible to ignore – and I do not mean spectacle in the negative sense. The bits of shadow puppetry in the backdrop are especially interesting. It has references to other black artists, to William Kentridge’s own body of work, the American artist Cara Walker, as well as the general medium of stop motion animation with drawings and concurrent layers.

On one hand the video celebrates African culture and history, but on the other it is a funeral, reminiscent of the apartheid experience. Some cultures celebrate funerals, perhaps as the soul’s release from the circle of life and death and reincarnation. While it touches upon several such themes, none are made explicit. It evokes an elegiac note in the middle, with respect to life and the passage of time. There is a band with all its paraphernalia, but the viewer is left guessing the cause for celebration.

Shilpa-Gupta-For-in-your-tongue-I-cannot-fit-100-Jailed-Poets-2017-2018-Installation-view-at-YARAT-Contemporary-Art-Centre-Baku.-Courtesy-the-artist-YARAT-and-Edinburgh-Art-Festival      For In Your Tongue I Cannot Fit, 100 Jailed Poets, Installation by Shilpa Gupta

Shilpa Gupta’s (For in Your Tongue, I can not fit, 100 jailed poets) and BV Suresh’s (Canes of Wrath) installations also create a distinctly immersive environment. What did you think?

While I liked BV Suresh’s work I did not get to experience it as intended. I believe there was a technical malfunction in some sticks. He has created an enclosed dungeon-like space, and to that effect, maybe stouter Lathis with visible evidences of use would have worked better.

Shilpa’s work is rather immersive. The viewer is transported into a dramatic tomb with 100 works of poetry displayed on spikes. Unlike Kentridge’s video, the message here is singularly clear – ‘free speech‘ is the first enemy of an undemocratic spirit. The poets’ diversity of race and nationality is an extremely sad but weighty realization in itself. Making this work entailed huge research and I can only imagine how powerful this work would be if a viewer knew the history of every poet. 

Finally, what makes the Kochi Biennale stand out from other art festivals and displays?

It stands out because it largely caters to the general masses. It does not try to whitewash reality or pretend to be something else. There is a strong heritage attached to some of the structures and Kochi’s natural beauty lends a wholesome quality to the atmosphere. It is truly comfortable in its skin and therefore the people have made it their own. There is deep engagement from people outside the art community. For instance, I met a young volunteer who is currently studying marine engineering. One does not often see such a diverse involvement.

Unlike most other art events, it is also refreshing to see that nobody is talking about money at the Biennale. Obviously money is involved and it is very important to sustain art, but here it is kept well in the background. You do not see people clamoring to buy certain works or any negotiations.

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Vipassana

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A statue of Gautam Buddha at the Global Dhamma Vipassana
Pagoda in Gorai Beach, Mumbai

It’s been over a year since my last post and I am glad to have a worthy subject. I recently completed a 10 day Vipassana meditation course – yes, I am still equally proud and disbelieving. It was undoubtedly one of the hardest experiences I have had, but also equally rewarding. Unlike most things that are traditionally good for you, Vipassana provides instant gratification. Albeit the enormous demands, you also experience immediate results at every step of the way, given a sincere attempt. On the third day, my body felt unequivocally healthier; I could survive just as well on 5-6 hours of sleep as opposed to the whopping 8 I usually need. On the fourth day, I noticed an obvious improvement in my mental clarity and memory. I could recall the smallest details from elaborate lists made in the meditation hours that my mind was stubbornly distracted. I even started to remember many of my dreams – this was quite disconcerting at times and made me crave my regular, blissfully ignorant knock outs. By the fifth day, the searing pain in my back from sitting upright to meditate for 10 hours a day, without support, had decreased dramatically. My concentration & focus were developing steadily – from being able to seriously meditate for only a few minutes in the hour, I could probably go up to 30 in my best hours, towards the end of the course. On the seventh day, for a few short seconds, I felt euphoria while meditating. I experienced intense vibrations across my entire body, that seemed to be palpable as far as three inches out. I felt as though I could float; almost an out-of-body experience, if you will – it happened only this once but the high from it lasted a while. If there was a drug that could make you feel this way, it would be seriously illegal.

I had many ups and downs through the course, though most not as significant as this one. Moreover, the philosophy, which I will try my best to outline below, is intuitively simple, extremely logical, almost scientific, and impossible to debate; so any doubts I had about the technique and its relevance to me, were resolved early on. All of the above helped me stick it out. Well that, and my shallow pride – I am not a quitter, I told myself repeatedly. In the worst moments – there were several – I secretly fought back tears and felt sorry for myself. Then I remembered all the people that had laughed at the idea of me doing Vipassana and had sworn that I couldn’t. What were 10 days in the face of a lifetime of regret? I would not add another item to this list. And so I persevered.

Vipassana is a form of meditation that was originally discovered by Gautam Budhha in 400 BC. After decades of experimenting with paths of self discovery, practicing Vipassana led him to the ultimate goal of Enlightenment. He spent the next 45 years of his life teaching this technique, and its overarching philosophy, Dhamma, across India. In 250BC, after waging war against thousands of people, Emperor Ashoka found his redemption with Vipassana. He then undertook a mission to spread it across neighboring countries like Malaysia, Cambodia and Burma. Over the next few centuries, the technique was slowly contaminated by careless teachers and the vested interests of priests & champions of other religions, whose livelihood was threatened by an alternative discipline of faith. Burma was the only country where it survived in its pristine form, and it was carefully passed on from one teacher to the next.

Guru S. N. Goenka, born into a prosperous business family in Burma, chanced upon Vipassana in a desperate attempt to cure his psychosomatic headaches, which threatened to turn him into a morphine addict. He almost ran away in frustration on the second day of the course, but was convinced to stay on by a fellow student, and the rest is history. Vipassana not only cured his headaches but also changed his purpose in life. He trained in the technique for fourteen years before returning to India as a teacher himself, and bringing Vipassana back to its country of origin.

Vipassana meditation is an integral part of Dhamma, which, simply put, is a universally relevant solution to human misery. Absolution from misery is supposed to lead to liberation, better known as inner peace, and eventually to enlightenment, wherein you are finally relieved from the cycle of reincarnation and karma.  Dhamma is a three part philosophy: 1. Sila – morality / discipline, 2. Samadhi – awareness / observation, and 3. Panya – wisdom / truth. All three are equally important and compliment one another.

Sila is the code of conduct, which is strictly enforced at the meditation camp:
1. Do not kill (this includes any action that might cause others to kill on your behalf, such as eating meat) because it generates negativity and anger
2. Do not steal because it begets greed and further dissatisfaction
3. Do not lie because deception takes you farther from your own truth. Different degrees of lying and exaggeration are so deeply ingrained in our lives that in order to maintain this precept, you must take a vow of silence for the duration of the course.
4. Abstain from all sexual activity to avoid distraction
5. Abstain from all forms of intoxicants in order to keep your mind alert

Samadhi stands for introspection and self-awareness. We instinctively look for external sources of gratification, such as social validation, emotional support from family and friends, professional success, material possessions, etc. Dhamma explains that the secret to happiness lies within us but our mind is a prisoner to our superficial cravings and aversions. Over the years, these cravings and aversions are stored in our subconscious minds, some forming deep-rooted complexes and essentially defining who we are; our ambitions, preferences, and overall personality. Naturally, they are constantly multiplying at an exponent rate, so no measure of success or luck can truly satisfy us.

This brings me to the last step, Panya, or wisdom. It is easy to recognize the vicious cycle of cravings and aversions. Even, to accept that any good fortune, such as beauty or family wealth, is the result of good Karma from a past life, or just pure chance, if you do not believe in karma. In any case, we know from experience that it cannot bring real, lasting happiness. Dhamma explains that the only way to achieve this is to truly understand that everything is ephemeral – every situation, each emotion, excitement, pain, even life, is fleeting. The philosophy itself is hardly groundbreaking. We know this from literature, pop culture, advise from elders, and common sense. Catch phrases like Carpe Diem and ‘this too shall pass’ have been beaten to death. Despite a strong understanding, we cannot help but succumb to our baser desires. Vipassana intervenes at this stage by facilitating greater control on the mind along with a constant reminder of this temporality.

Panya teaches you equanimity. It teaches you to recognize that any extreme emotion, even excitement or love, is bound to cause misery. For instance, if you are happiest in the company of a particular individual, their absence will create a sense of loss. Even your your dream car will eventually get old, seem less shiny, and lead to another aspiration. Therefore, with the knowledge of impermanence, Vipassana teaches you to temper your reactions. To clarify, you need not to stop enjoying the good times, but to be prepared for them to end.

While meditating, you learn to observe sensations across your body. These sensations are in fact the physical manifestations of cravings and aversions, that the subconscious mind is constantly reacting to, but the conscious mind is normally unaware of. The more obvious, ‘gross’ sensations, like pain, heat, itches, etc, are said to represent aversions, while subtler, pleasant vibrations are cravings. Vipassana teaches you to observe these sensations with equanimity, without reacting to them physically or mentally and to get accustomed to the transience of even the more uncomfortable sensation.

If you have managed to persevere through this essay, which probably required as much determination as the course did, I hope I have convinced you of the value of Vipassana. I believe it is worth attending a course even if it is to simply detox from our cluttered lives and experience an alternative. Each experience is unique but I am sure that everybody nets out positive. I was one of the youngest people in my course and after being forced to live in accordance with the laws of nature, as they describe it, including waking up at 4am, not eating dinner, and a complete lack of external stimulation, I could imagine the toll that my regular routine must take on my body. I might not make extreme changes, or be able to follow all the rules of Sila, but I will definitely be more balanced and conscious of my state of mind and body. I have also unloaded some heavy baggage and realized the futility of stress and agitation that I usually experience in spades. I hope that you get to experience Vipassana first-hand as well. Although it sounds outlandish, it is well worth the effort.

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‘Walter & Friends’

W&F POster

The following essays were written for Gallery Ark’s inaugural art show, Episode #1, ‘Walter & Friends’. ‘Walter & Friends’ opened on April 29th, 2017, in Vadodara, Gujarat.

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With ‘Walter & Friends’, we invite you to experience the apparently divergent narratives of six celebrated artists, who studied together at the M. S. University, in the seventies. This show carries the special significance not only of announcing our opening, but also of building an undeniable parallel to our story. A story of sentiment. Of romanticism; discovery, both in introspect and retrospect; of struggles that culminate in triumph, and at times in failure; of collaborative evolution in creative pursuit; of courage and abandon; of the contradiction in simultaneous anarchy and symmetry; of growth – an ombudsman at times; serendipity; but most importantly perhaps, of prevailing friendship.

Arbitrary as they might seem, these are themes very relevant to the show, its comprising artists, even the building’s overarching narrative, as well as the collaborative motivations of those involved in its making; specifically, Ahmedabad based architect Aniket Bhagwat, in a unique, and largely unprecedented, creative collaboration with artist, Walter D’Souza of ‘Walter and Friends’, and of course, Atul Dalmia, who was closely involved through the process. I daresay, it is hardly contrived to describe the two aforementioned partnerships, those of ‘Walter & Friends’ and the team at Ark, in the same vein: brought together by chance events, what began in unlikely associations, stand today as rich and natural friendships.

In a conversation about the making of Ark, Aniket said, “there cannot be architecture unless there is the idea of poetry in it, and there cannot be architecture unless there is the idea of soul in it.”

In ‘Walter & Friends’, we invite you to find poetry that is imbibed in the soul of these individuals and so many more.

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“Walter & Friends”. The title alludes to an informal Whatsapp group where the show was first conceptualized. Walter D’Souza’s work is showcased alongside that of Anandajit Ray, Hans Kaushik, Nataraj Sharma, V. Ramesh, and Veer Munshi, originally with no particular intent, but with the serendipitous result of capsuling a particular time in Baroda with nostalgic significance. The show’s unusual, yet endearing inception is relevant as context of what these artists, and friends, share in common. They studied together at the MS University in Baroda, in the 70s and early 80s, and were together later at the Kanoria Center for Arts, where they also met Anandajit, a few years their junior.

Nostalgia is a valuable emotion. It is integral to the friendships of these artists, their displayed artworks, and in the larger narrative of contemporary art. It is an essential human condition, a notion of longing, that also finds meaning in the scientific term, ‘familiarity bias’ – we are drawn towards what we know, and search for it once it is gone. Nostalgic memories are proven to create a sense of belonging, and a dichotomy between the ‘then’ and ‘now’, both of which fuel creativity and therefore explain how significant past experiences play a crucial role in artistic expression. It is visible in Anandajit’s bleak renditions of a dystopian present, in Veer Munshi’s bitter depictions of being forced to leave Kashmir, and in V. Ramesh’s quest for a utopian escape from existential tragedies. Indeed we are inundated by nostalgic expression in popular culture – for instance, with millennial hashtags like “ThrowbackThursday” and “Inthe90sIThought”, and with marketing campaigns like “Froot Loops – Bring Back the Awesome.”

Perhaps nostalgia explains why we never replaced the show’s title, ‘Walter & Friends’, originally intended as a working title. Its sweet sentimentality somehow befits the context as it celebrates Walter’s contribution to the building. The Banyan Tree on the façade, the Gabion wall in the basement, a railing here, mural there, stencils loaded with meaning, the entire structure is inherently bolstered with Walter’s art, seeking discovery from its audience. In a larger sense, ‘Walter & Friends’ celebrates the friendship of these six artists, and several others, who share a common history.

In Walter’s words, it is impossible to fairly represent Baroda’s artistic narrative in a single curated show. ‘Walter & Friends’ then, is a happy coincidence that provides insight into a particular chapter of that larger narrative. It is holistic in its encompassing of diverse themes and mediums, but simultaneously of significant parallels in artistic experiences specific to the city. None of them conformists, Walter fondly remembers them as free souls who let their passions lead their way, but they did so with an unwavering focus. Determined to continue through the pitfalls in their journey without losing faith in their passion. Coming from diverse backgrounds, some even from different professions, these individuals shared one, perhaps crucial, quality – tenacity. They were audacious at times, but not reckless. Together, this group brings forth the soul that existed in the faculty at the time.

This is a soul reminiscent of Nasreen Mohammadi; a faculty professor in MSU at the time. To quote a candid conversation with Walter, “she is THE person who marks the beginning of my journey in Baroda.” Walter is referring to her indulgent lesson on his first day of lecture at MSU. Having just quit his BA, Nasreen forced Walter to take responsibility for his decision to join the fine arts faculty as she asked him to stay out of class until he was sure of his decision. When Walter returned to her lecture a few days later, with only a sketchbook filled with drawings done in his time outside class, she happily allowed him to join the class. The soul is equally reminiscent of professors like Jyoti bhai, who, as Walter fondly recalls, would never miss an opportunity to record videos of the various skits they performed on campus; of Jeram Patel, who taught applied arts to Nataraj and playfully joked about his work being the mildest form of applied art because Nataraj’s true passion lay in painting; of Gulam Sheikh’s first year introductory class, wherein he spoke about art like a story and seamlessly punctuated it in his last class – eliciting much excitement and making the theory more of a learning process than a dreaded academic exercise; of Dr. Parimoo’s history classes that made them thankful to have access to the enormous collection of visual archives at the faculty; of Mani Sir, and Raghav Kaneria and Dhumal; of the campus stray dog, Dean, who’s name was later changed to Jogi, short for Dean Joglekar, when Dr. Rajan succeeded him as Dean and disapproved of the dog’s original name. These experiences are undeniably shared in the art of Walter & Friends; at times overtly emphasized, such as, for instance, recently when Walter procured a poster of ‘Jogi’ the dog, from Nataraj’s old works; and at times they are only felt.

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Letters of Love #2

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K. G. Subramanyan, “Windows 1” (1968), acrylic on board, 53.5 x 53.5 (Seema and Atul Dalmia’s private collection)

To KG Subramanyan – a legend; a prolific painter and critically acclaimed artist (winner of the Padma Bhushan award); a public idol; and I daresay, a friend – soon after his passing // to say all that was not said (*recipient unconcealed – because the departed should be celebrated in solidarity)

Dear Mani Sir, 

For a time, I did not have words to express what I felt when I heard the news of your passing. In fact, I probably did not even have the consciousness; a detached sense of loss, yes; sympathy for my parents’ grief, yes; but not empathy! Even my guilt was an imposed one, as my mother accused me of not visiting you enough in your last days. I briefly wondered if I was simply insensitive. Self-absorbed.  

I felt compelled to do something. Feel something. Mourn appropriately. When an experience comes to a close, it must be commemorated, if only to remove the clutter and tie the loose ends, or it begins to feel like the incident that is now in the past, is not yet ready to become history. But history it must become. Or else we would be robbed of the memory – the very essence of the experience. However, how does one commemorate an experience that she cannot define? Undoubtedly, I had enough exposure to you – although some of it one-sided – for our acquaintance to become a said experience; but it was too late to explore. And so it was buried for a time, under more incessant or uncomplicated tasks. 

Now, while I have the time and motivation, and as your celebration becomes a more immediate present around me, I am selfishly using this space to mark my presence in your mourning, but also as an attempt to clarify my own ‘experience’ of the enigma that was you. I cannot presume to write you a eulogy – I am sure it has already been done, by many better suited for the task – I have only my thoughts. Unexplored, tautological, and admittedly apprehensive.

I imagine if I had written you something of the kind while we could still talk about it, you would have lovingly made a joke to remind me of my naïveté. This is reminiscent of an intimidation so absolute that it often made me feel like a weak-kneed adolescent in your presence. We had several isolated interactions during my visits to your home where I was basically a fish out of water. Terrified of saying something stupid but eager to make an impression. I felt embarrassed. And often irritated with my parents for talking about me like I was a child. But of course, they were only trying to help, or simply behaving like entirely normal parents. Most probably also slightly awestruck, searching for the most politically-correct conversation starter. 

You see, you had a staggering presence. Self-aware, but kind. What I loved best was that you were generous with your time. To so many, probably both high and low in your regard. It is difficult to comment on motivations, but I had seen so many people visiting you, sitting in the very same seat I was about to take, or had just left, and probably feeling just as weak-kneed. It was always disconcerting to be out of my comfort zone, especially when I wanted so badly to belong, and more so when I tried to make my presence felt. But I didn’t mind – and that is why I must write you this letter. 

The excitable youth (such as myself) is impressionable, has many aspirations, and therefore many role-models who touch their lives. Most often, these are fleeting interactions, only ghosts of what could have been. Because the young are uneasy, or misguided in their motivations for the interaction; and the accomplished have forgotten what it was like to be young. Or instead, they are patronizing. Unseeing. Alas, neither can be blamed, it is but natural. But then there are those rare interactions that surprise you. Serendipity. And such were most of our meetings over the years.

Your smile was uninhibited, it had a quality of warmth and sincerity; your memory was impressive, as you unfailingly inquired about details from a previous conversation; and your manner was most charming, such as when you always followed your goodbyes with a genuine request to visit again soon. I was never able to be completely at ease with you, or develop a carefree friendship where two individuals meet half-way. You remained a towering personality; making jokes, for instance, at mine and others’ expense. However, you made me believe that you enjoyed my company, that you meant well not only as a result of being good-natured, but that you cared in some manner specifically about me, and that maybe I could also contribute to your life in a small, however insignificant, capacity. I think this is the sentiment I will recollect in the years to come; for this I will be proud to have known you and will happily admire your work with an added bias. 

Lastly, and slightly abruptly, I want to thank you for your contribution to my life. I am profoundly humbled. Without your paintings, ‘home’ would mean something entirely different to me; for they have come to belong more than the very stone of the walls. And thank you, only because I cannot find a higher expression of gratitude, for painting my wedding card! I never did thank you appropriately enough, probably because the “wedding” is an obviously distant and uncertain, and therefore embarrassing subject. But it makes me feel ever so special to share this private bond with you. Mani Da, I will miss you with honesty.

Love, 

Nupur

23/8/2016

Posted on by nupurdalmia 1

Dance Dance Dance

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“Dance. As long as the music plays.” Source

Finishing a great novel always leaves me excited and melancholic in equal parts. It’s sort of like an affair. When you begin, you are tentative / uninvested / and unsure about what is to come; but in anticipation (as any good reader should be) of the possibilities. Slowly but surely, without even realizing it, you get intimate with the prose and the characters, despite, nay because of, their flaws. You trudge through the necessary but tedious paragraphs with honesty. Soon you even feel empathy – not just a basic understanding of predicaments, but a vital imposition of your self on actions and intentions; and finally you are in awe of the writer for opening your mind to existential dimensions that you somehow never considered before. You fall in love.

But like most things, it has to end. So much sooner than you had hoped. And you are left with an undeniable sense of loss. But also satisfaction, for having gained something precious and impossible to replicate. This is simply the power of good fiction and Haruki Murakami delivers it in spades.

Speaking of love affairs, this is a major theme in Murakami’s Dance Dance Dance. The middle-aged-35-year-old protagonist, extremely jaded and cynical, explains to an unnaturally beautiful, clairvoyant, and damaged 13-year-old girl (Yuki) that “[when] I was a kid.. I was in love. And when you’re a kid you can relate to anything, even if it’s silly.” She knowingly asks in return – “Now that you’re not young anymore, do you still fall in love?” Difficult question. I guess we do, all the time, but we cannot help question its reality.“You lost lots of things. Lost lots of precious things. Not anybody’s fault. But each time you lost something, you dropped a whole string of things with it.” We still experience flickers of brilliance / moments of serendipity / unexpected connections that we want to hold on to with both hands, but they are so fleeting that often even memory cannot do them justice. With time comes cynicism, it cannot be helped, but it is not necessarily bad when balanced with hope.

Hope is the key, without it I think we would be truly lost. Dance Dance Dance is frustrating, even random, meaningless, at times. It is a story of the passage of time in an “advanced capitalist society”, where abstract notions like love are traded in for mass produced efficiency. Life eventually loses its luster and choices are largely dictated by capital gains. Relationships suffer. “Unfortunately, the clock is ticking, the hours are going by. The past increases, the future recedes. Possibilities decreasing, regrets mounting.” But there is always the promise of hope. Even when everything is spinning out of control and people are inexplicably disappearing all around the protagonist, an oracular sheepman commands him to keep pace and go through the motions. Almost like a rite of passage where clarity is the metaphoric light at the end of the tunnel – you know it’s there but you don’t know how far. “Dance,” said the Sheep Man. “Yougottadance. Aslongasthemusicplays. Yougottadance. Don’teventhinkwhy. Starttothink, onyourfeet, yourfeetstop, wegetstuck. Wegetstuck, you’restuck. Sodon’tpayanymind, nomatterhowdumb. Yougottakeepthestep. Yougottalimberup. Yougottaloosenwhatyoubolteddown. Yougottauseallyougot. Weknowyou’retired, tiredandscared. Happenstoeveryone,okay? Justdon’tletyourfeetstop.”

Murakami makes quite a statement about the fundamentals of capitalism. The story arc follows The Dolphin Hotel, a mediocre hotel which holds tremendous nostalgia as the lynchpin of the protagonist’s depression and derailment from the world. When he revisits it, it has been replaced by an upscale 5-star hotel owned by a big corporation – l’Hotel Dauphin. The old Dolphin and its secrets are buried somewhere in the foundation. It reminded me of a certain loss of purity in exchange for convenience. Demand and supply over simple pleasures. Where somehow, the absence of redundancies creates blinding confusion. Things aren’t the way they seem at all. There is a deeper metaphysical force at the very backbone of this novel, a feeling that is clouded entirely by the sheen of modernism, leaving all the characters inexplicably restless, disoriented and broken, in its wake. In a world of expense accounts that cover anything from international prostitutes to luxury condos, the misfits in this story find a Maserati insufferable but an old Subaru comforting. So maybe Yuki’s (damaged 13-year-old) clairvoyance is partly a keen and sensitive perception that is yet to be colored by materialism.

The protagonist is nameless, possibly because he personifies the modern man. “Possibilities are like cancer. The more I think about them, the more they multiply, and there’s no way to stop them. I’m out of control.” I guess we are spoiled for choice. Options. Possibilities. Confusion. All of his love interests appeal to him in the most peculiar, arbitrary fashion; a call-girl with perfect ears, a hotel receptionist whose glasses seem to suit her outstandingly. Despite his attempts at forming deep and meaningful relationships, somehow the timing is never right, there is a misconnection, people disappear, literally transcending into other realities. Even in the context of a 20th century, “advanced capitalist”, Japan where everything is happening for a reason, things seem out of control, inexplicable, “cuckcoo” –“All you have to do is wait,” I explained. “Sit tight and wait for the right moment. Not try to change anything by force, just watch the drift of things. Make an effort to cast a fair eye on everything. If you do that, you just naturally know what to do. But everyone’s always too busy. They’re too talented, their schedules are too full. They’re too interested in themselves to think about what’s fair.”

“Dance. As long as the music plays”.

***

“If you listen carefully, you can hear these things. If you look carefully, you’ll see what you’re after”

“Mediocrity is like a spot on your shirt. It never comes off”

“… waste is the highest virtue one can achieve in advanced capitalist society. The fact that Japan bought bought Phantom jets from America and wasted vast quantities of fuel on scrambles put an extra spin in the global economy, and that extra spin lifted capitalism to yet greater heights.” …. “Waste is the fuel of contradiction, and contradiction activates the economy, and an active economy creates more waste.” …. “That’s advanced capitalism for you: The player making the maximum capital investment gets the maximum critical information in order to reap the maximum desired profit with maximum capital efficiency-and nobody bats an eye.”

“Fairness has got nothing to do with it. With that kind of money on the line, who’s going to sit around considering abstract things like that?”

“Advanced capitalism has transcended itself. Not to overstate things, financial dealings have practically become a religious activity. The new mysticism.” …. “Its the only stuff of myth that’s left in the world.”

“Even the standard of right and wrong has been subdivided, made sophisticated. Within good, there’s fashionable good and unfashionable good, and ditto for bad.” …. “Like pulling on a Missoni sweater over Trussardi slacks and Pollini shoes, you can now enjoy hybrid styles of morality … Philosophy starting to look more like business administration.”

“Gazing at the rain, I consider what it means to belong, to become part of something. To have someone cry for me. From someplace distant, so very distant. From ultimately, a dream. No matter how far I reach out, no matter how fast I run, I’ll never make it. Why would anyone want to cry for me.”

“People fall in love without reason, without even wanting to. You can’t predict it. That’s love.”

“It’s a question of attitude. If you really work hard at something, you can do it, up to a point. If you really work at being happy, you can do it, up to a point.”

“Even so, there were times I saw freshness and beauty. I could smell the air, and I really loved rock ‘n’ roll. Tears were warm, and girls were beautiful, like dreams. I liked movie theaters, the darkness and intimacy, and I liked the deep, sad summer nights.”

 

Posted on by nupurdalmia 1

High Resolution[s]

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Photograph by Eugene Vernier for Vogue, July 1961

This past year has been a great mixed bag of discovery, growing up (ugh.. try as I might, it seems I cannot fight it anymore), breathtaking travel, new adventures (diving!), new fashion, exciting novels, beautiful art, family bonding, new friendships, rekindled friendships, lost friendships, loss, love, happiness, success, frustration, music, dance, confusion, pain, hope, and despair… as I am sure is the case with everyone, because c’est la vie, and it would be no fun to have it any other way.

Leading up to the 31st, I saw lots of pictures and blog posts outlining the futility of new year resolutions – but I disagree, I think marking a new year with new promises reminds us of infinite possibilities; there is so much hope in deciding to be better versions of ourselves that I think it keeps us going and looking forward to every new year / month / Monday / event. Let’s be honest, there is just too much cynicism out there to not grasp at every opportunity for positive aspirations.

I will probably break most of these by next Tuesday, but I hope it won’t stop me from re-making the same promises and just netting out better. So what’s the point of making new year resolutions, one might wonder. In fact, what’s the point of celebrating at all? It’s just like any other day amiright? I didn’t wake up feeling any less brain-foggy on 1st January but I did earmark a fresh start and I’m still basking in its glory because really, I’m only making these promises and holding myself accountable to them on January 7th, a whole cheat week later! So here’s to making and breaking new promises, believing in possibilities, and hoping that the year of the Monkey is the best one yet :)

  • Appreciate opportunities / events / moments / and people more in the present. We tend to do this so much better in retrospect, and that inevitably implies regret.
  • Be more organized – on those rare occasions that my room is clean / my work desk is tidy / my mailbox is empty / and my day is planned, I literally feel like I’m on top of the world (not just my tiny world but more like a metaphorical microscopic view of all the planets from a galaxy far, far, away). Unfortunately this does not happen consistently, but hey, it’s a new year!
  • Keep things simple – Sometimes when I’ve had a fight with someone near and dear / too many things are piling up / a life-changing decision is looming / or simply when the weather is gray, everything starts to seem uncharacteristically bleak and complicated. Are you guilty of this as well? I’ve come to realize that on days / weeks like these it’s best to feign patience and deal with things one at a time. I wish it were as easy as it sounds…
  • Eat healthier – I think the biggest change that 2015 brought for me was a healthier lifestyle. I finally kicked out my old food habits that honestly only Cookie Monster could have sustained, adapted to a vegetarian home, and developed a taste for brown rice, quinoa, and sugar-less tea. However, given my massive sweet tooth and penchant for fries, I’m literally always on the fence, so obviously this is a very important resolution to ensure that I’m not seduced by the dark side and am able to keep my cheat days to a minimum
  • Maintain an exercise routine – An addendum to the above point of being healthier, I also started exercising; mainly walking, running, yoga, and miscellaneous gymming. I have a schedule to exercise at least 6 days a week but it’s a massive struggle to keep this up because it basically means I cannot have any social / family / or RnR plans during the week. I guess it boils down to better time management.
  • Be more responsible and responsive – I have been known to be forgetful and procrastinatory in my communication and tasks that are not on the top of my agenda. This is clearly not a great habit and hopefully I can channel my inner Hermione Granger and be more in control of things this year.
  • Read more – One of the great things about moving back home (1.5 years ago) has been having the extra time to read, which is truly my first love! However there’s always room to be faster because my list isn’t getting any shorter; I’m also starting business school in April, which means it’s going to be harder to read recreationally and it’s worth making a goal – so I’m hoping to do ~24 books / 2 books a month. PS- I also started a really cool book club with my friend where we each chose 6 books (we initially picked 12 each, and then shortlisted the 6 we liked best from each other’s lists). So 12 / 24 books are going to be these.
  • Write more – I love writing but I’m very moody in my content, confidence, and discipline. I’m also a shy writer, so one of my favorite achievements of 2015 has been to start this blog! I hope to keep it up, and maybe even write some fiction.
  • Make at least 2 diving trips – The biggest adventure of 2015 was to go diving in the Andaman & Nicobar Islands. One of the very few items on my bucket list (I am extremely picky about things that are cool enough and that I want badly enough to be on this special list) is to eventually become a divemaster and I want to facilitate as many diving opportunities as I possibly can!!

Is there a limit on the number of these you are allowed? hehe.

Posted on by nupurdalmia 0

Why You Should Eat Breakfast at Tiffany’s

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Still from movie, Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961)

HG: You know those days when you get the mean reds?

PV: The mean reds? You mean like the blues?

HG: No. The blues are because you’re getting fat and maybe it’s been raining too long, you’re just sad that’s all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you’re afraid and you don’t know what you’re afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?

—–

OJB: Well answer the question – Is she or isn’t she?

PV: Is she or isn’t she what?

OJB: A phony

PV: I don’t know, I don’t think so

OJB: You don’t think so huh? [haha] Well you’re wrong … because she is. But on the other hand, you’re right, because she’s a real phony. You know why? Because she honestly believes all this phony junk that she believes in

—–

Have you ever wondered why Holly Golightly’s iconic yet decades old character still captures our hearts today? Well I have, and although I don’t have a definitive answer, I have some guesses – 1. she is beautiful and brazen, 2. she is vulnerable but independent, 3. and (most importantly) she is honest.

Honesty is honestly such a rare commodity in our world that it is downright refreshing! And I don’t mean being honest about your dirty little secrets or being able to keep your friends’ gossip on the DL. I mean really, truly, being honest about who you are. The travesty is not that most of us do not know who we are, it is that most of us are ashamed to admit it, or haven’t even given it a thought before attempting to be more like someone else who we know to be more successful than ourselves (in whatever way most relevant to us). Sadly, the irony is that we often choose to imitate one or more people that we know and admire closely – these ideals are different for everybody – and that says so much about us; who we are, who we want to be, and what we are self-conscious about. And yet, rather than working to be better, we choose to disparage ourselves and wallow in some form of self-pitying-wishful-thinking, wanting only that which we are not.

Therefore Holly Golightly — gloriously imperfect, stunningly beautiful but scared, proud yet forced to diminish herself, and self-proclaim-edly “tres fou” (very crazy) – is a breath of fresh air even today! Me, and half a million other girls feel like we are Holly – “wild beings who cannot be tamed”. How is that possible, I wonder, when we are all so different from each other. I guess it’s because we are all tres fou in our own unique way, and honestly, that is what makes us beautiful (I hope). We more often than not try to hide it, sometimes we get criticized or laughed at for it, but I truly believe it is what makes us special, and often enviable. Like Holly said, “it is useful being top bananas in the shock department”.

So when Holly’s agent OJB casually asks if she is a phony, I realized while watching the movie for my 43908350th time that it is really a profound question. I am still figuring out the who in me, I guess we all are; in fact, I have only recently become comfortable with the idea that it is okay not to know just yet; I have only recently begun to respect and feel proud of the consistently evolving and exploring and confused person that I am. So do I ever feel like a phony? – all the time! It happens when I’m oh-so-self-conscious while talking to a crush / starry-eyed when meeting someone I deeply admire / or trying to stand my ground in a truly adult conversation — my phony self is basically my go-to defense mechanism. Every time I do not trust myself to act like a superstar, I try to impersonate someone who might qualify. Is that wrong? Maybe a little bit, because I think I lose some clarity about myself every time I try to be someone else; but I think this is also how we grow. So is that what Holly did? I don’t think so! Because she was honest and it must have been so liberating, but it was also a movie so we didn’t see her in too many lights. So was she really a phony? Well yes, but like OBJ said, she was a real phony – and I think that is the best we can hope for, simply because the moment we have expectations – hopes and dreams – we begin to work towards them and invariably begin to sacrifice a little bit of ourselves for their sake.

I think it’s essential to be a phony to be happy, but it’s only worth it if you are a real phony; and that is what Holly Golightly from Breakfast at Tiffany’s taught me. What do you think?

PS- Breakfast at Tiffany’s is my favorite movie of all time, and now you know why!

Posted on by nupurdalmia 1

Scuba Diving in ‘Kala Pani’ (Black Water)

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Diving in the Andaman [Source]

Have you heard of Cellular Jail? Better known as Kala Pani, this is the Indian version of Alcatraz, an island (ex) prison in Port Blair of the Andaman and Nicobar Islands, reserved only for the most notorious criminals. Why it’s notable in this post is because despite being called Kala Pani, the waters around here are ironically one of the clearest and bluest in the world, and they have heavenly white sandy beaches.

Unfortunately I didn’t have too much time to enjoy the beaches because I was busy soaking up sun and salt underwater! I did a PADI beginners open water diving course with Barefoot Scuba in Havelock Island. I’m actually quite at a loss for words but I did have a stunning epiphany in the aftermath — I think I might have never actually loved anything other than people before (fictional characters included, obviously). I mean, I guess I love other activities like reading or the adrenaline rush from running, but there are also times when I really really hate those (try reading Ulysses… seriously). But diving was not even on the same playing field for me; I loved every minute of it, even when we were doing really painful exercises like having to swim around without a mask, 30ft under salt-water.

If I had to venture a guess, I’d say that I probably won’t get to go to outer space in this lifetime, but now I have one less reason to! I already know what it feels like to frolic about in a zero-gravity environment – pretty out of this world I must say (pun intended). The unprecedented calm of being under 4 atmospheres of pressure was also a feeling alien to me heretofore. I guess those dives were the only times my mind was literally clear of the rest of the world – and I have tried meditating before on several occasions, but one of the usual gazillion thoughts in my head just somehow finds a way to sneak in. I know I’m describing a movie style cliché but I really did feel like I was truly appreciating beauty for the first time (le sigh)!

Oh and in case you’re interested, some of the cool stuff I saw includes Lion fish, Moray eels, Scorpion fish (poisonous), Humphead Parrot fish, Giant Clam, Puffer fish, Humpback snappers, Barracuda, Lizard fish, Porcupine fish, Clown fish (like Nemo!), Sargent fish (like Dory!), and several fascinating types of Coral and Sea Cucumbers.

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Minutes after we officially became open water divers!

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An unflattering selfie with our instructor :)

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One of our dive sites, called the Lighthouse

Posted on by nupurdalmia 2

Mood Penguin

Breathin’ by EDX

I currently have this song on repeat, not only because it’s a really great song and because I recently saw EDX live at Ruby Skye in San Francisco, but also because I recently completed (and loved) a Scuba Diving course and the diving metaphors are giving me a special kick! —

We all put deep down

We could dive

Everything to make us feel alive

…

Take my love

Beside your lungs

So you can be breathing under water

True dat EDX, breathing under water is definitely the most alive I have ever felt and am hoping write a post about it soon! In case you’re wondering what the what a Mood Penguin is, check this earlier post out! Since this series is essentially about rediscovering songs, I must mention that I fell in love with this one all over again while listening to it on our boat in the middle of the ocean, between two dives !!! :)

Posted on by nupurdalmia 0