Palm Leaf Pattachitra from Odisha

Traditionally paper, textiles and stone have been used to create artworks. So when a new base material is encountered the most intriguing aspect for me is ‘how did this come about’.

Warli tribal paintings are done on a cow-dung base on textile. Would I, in a 100 years of creative thinking ever come up with that?

If I were one of the people living in a coastal area surrounded by swaying palm trees whispering constantly in the wind, would I ever thinking of picking up the one fallen frond and using it as a drawing board?

The answer in all likelihood is No. But here in Orissa, palm leaf paintings are commonplace. Everyone is familiar with the idea and it does not provide any novelty to them as it does to me.  Me? I am wowed by the idea and have been for the past 2 decades since I first saw these at an exhibition. The piece I acquired sits on my wall and even after all these years I continue to take pleasure in the artwork I see on it. But it si easy to forget something that is on your wall. And so I did not think about it actively until I came to Odisha.

Basic enquiries direct me to the little village of Raghurajpur where every family is an artist. With a little deeper research I am taken to the home of a Guru – a master  – teacher who not only creates art but also makes the effort to teach the next generation. He is one of the few strong links through which this art will be passed on in time.

I spend the morning with him and his student both of them taking the time to explain their art to me step by step and patiently answering all my clueless novitiate questions.

At this point I stop to think whether this attitude of entertaining guests with humility and with enthusiasm that is seen in developing countries of Asia is present anywhere else in the world. Where else could I drop in without an appointment and expect to spend a leisurely morning with people who will not have anything productive to show for that morning. Yet they do it. And they do it with joy and pleasure – not as a chore or an inconvenience. These people have the wealth of time. For they have not traded it away for money….

And so here I am. In the lush artisit village of Raghurajpur.

Following are the pictures that show how palm leaf are are etched and painted to create magnificent miniature artworks.

 

The student and his workstation

The first step : etching on pre-processed palm leaf strips

The subject of these paintings is usually religious tales or folk legends

The Guru does not need a work desk – He uses his knees as a support.

 

Once the etching is done, the ‘Kaajal’ or ‘Kohl’ paste is  used to color the etching black.

Before & after the application

Here’s how it’s done

Step 1 :

Making the Kaajal

A kerosene wick

Carbon

Add ‘Kaitha’ and tamarind as fixing agents

Apply it to the palm leaf and rub it into the etched design

Use water to spread it evenly and wash off the excess

Wipe dry.

And one leaf strip at a time, the larger picture is created.

The Puri Rath (above) and the horse below has been created using female figures throughout.

This art is an ancient art seen in three coastal states in India. Kerala, Assam and Orissa – separated by a few thousand kilometers. It is interesting how similar techniques evolved in both places. I have seen medicinal manuscripts in Kerala but the art form of folk tales and legends is seen mainly in Orissa & Assam. In all the locations this is an ancient art and museums in each of these places boast of gorgeous works of art in this medium.

An absolute treat to behold!

Wovensouls has a small collection of ancient palm leaf manuscripts – the Geet Gobind epic by Jayadev, The Boeeo Bandan folk tale of travel from Orissa to Java, Sumatra, Borneo, the Laksmi Purana, the Hanuman Purana, Vaidya Shastra texts and the Kama Sutra. These are currently viewable on the auction scheduled for April 6th 2013.

jm

Feb 2013

 

 

 

A Dog’s Sixth Sense – a spooky experience

My Grandma told me folk tales that aroused my curiosity. Tales that were so mystical and interesting that they opened up a whole world of the un-understood realm – enticing me to enter and wonder and figure out what was going on.

She told me numerous things – like how turmeric is good for killing infections of the throat – I’d be made to have spoonfulls of awful tasting turmeric powder to cure sore throat – yet when an allopathic doc was asked about this remedy he looked down upon us like illiterate ignoramuses. Yet today science HAS caught up with my grandma and her folklore. An article on BBC news extolls the virtues of turmeric in cancer cure – here.

There are many things she spoke of – and another one is about the sixth sense of dogs.

I grew up in a neighbourhood where home doors were never shut and no one needed an invitation to drop in to anyone’s home. Kids roamed freely and older kids watched out for younger ones and families assumed responsibility not just for their own kids but also for those of others. And a group of stray dogs were a part of this extended family. Every year we had a few litters from Reggie the beautiful rust colored dog with a limp and kajal-lined black doe eyes. She gave the kids many many pups to play with. There was a semi-formal arrangement in which we all fed the group of dogs and there was a ‘dotted-line’ master-pet relationship between pairs of us.

And so we always had dogs playing with us and obeying our commands and whining when we went off to school.

This whining caused by separation anxiety was very different from the one we sometimes heard from the whole group of dogs.

And for that type of whining my grandma’s explanations was this:

In Hindu mythology there is a God of death called “Yama Deva”.  He or his messengers come visiting to pluck out the ones whose time is up.

It is said that dogs can “see” or sense the presence of Yama Deva when he is in the vicinity.

I had heard these tales as a child and these had been lost in the recesses of memory – until 3.5 month old pup began behaving strangely one day.

The pup – who was usually playful and hungry and sleepy all the time, was suddenly clingy and whiny. His physical condition seemd normal but his behavior was unusual. All day long he stayed around my feet. Even as I carried him and lulled him like an infant, his mood did not change. 

I took him to the playground to cheer him up – an outing he enjoys – but he remained distracted and whiny, impatient, edgy and jittery. No one in the family could reassure him or do anything to silence his intermittent soft whines and soulful looks. He didn’t eat normally and almost kept a vigil. We could do nothing but watch. We did not understand. It was not overly melodramatic but if you were close to the pup you would sense the change in his behavior.

When we sat on the bench in the playground my grandma’s words came to me – and I thought that I might be dying today – but I swept that thought aside as a ridiculous one and forgot about it.

Until the next day.

We heard some Hindu religious music playing in the next highrise building but did not pay attention. There are many types of Hindu communities where I live and I assumed that this music would be related to some festival of some sub-community.

But later that afternoon we realised that this was related to a funeral.  On the same floor of the next building someone had passed away the previous day.

It was only after I attended the funeral that I began connecting the dots.

Were these events a coincidence? Or was my grandma right? Had Yama just spared me and taken another instead?

I was spooked – not by the idea of death itself – but by the possibility that the dog knew – and by the idea that my grandma knew that the dog knew ……..

jm

May 2012

The Holi Festival – Present & Past

Jari Mari Mata Temple on S.V. Road, Bandra.

The venue for the Holi bonfire on the night of the Spring Full Moon.

Past Holi bonfires at this location are a part of my childhood.

And the Present bonfire, now captured on very bad pictures on an old mobile phone, is mostly an attempt to relive those memories.

**

The Jari Mari temple is a short walk away from my childhood home. Every year, on the night before the festive play of colors on ‘Dhuleti’ a bonfire is lit in honor of of a good hero Prahlad conquering an evil demonness Holika.

These legends from the Hindu scriptures were just stories for me and were a marginal part of the drama created that evening every year with the lighting of the bonfire.

My grandma was a part of a “mahila mandal’ or a ladies group who got together to celebrate festivals.

(Here it is important to note one significant feature of the old Indian society that is different from current day urban society in India or elsewhere.  Today, the anchor of social relationships is the husband-wife unit. In those days, the husband wife relationship was just marginal to one’s social anchors. Every woman was bonded strongly with the other women in the joint or extended family. The mother-in-law, the sister-in-laws, the neighbours, all reached out to each other for their social interactions and husbands played a small part of the socialising. So this ‘mahila mandal’ acted as a sisterhood social structure)

In those days phones were not available. So we, the little children acted as the little messengers carrying messages to and from the ladies of the mandal to plan the evening’s festivities. ‘What time should we all go down to the temple’ ‘What sweets should we carry’ and such other matters were arranged through us.

My day would be spent as usual – going to school and arranging materials for the color play the next day and looking forward to the events of the 24 hours that would follow. The bonfire would mark the start of the festivities and the anticipation would build up over the whole day. Around 8 pm the excitement would become unbearable (am not sure why – because the bonfire actually had no ‘fun’ element – but am just recalling my memories) and I’d ask for permission to go to the temple to check if the fire had been lit or not. 250 meters was considered ‘too far’ for me to venture out alone so I was allowed to go to the mid point. It would always be too early in my first check and 2-3 other sojourns would follow before I could announce the good news.

Then my grandma would collect the ladies in our building and we would all gather downstairs and leave. Each of the ladies had a ‘puja thali’ or worship plate containing red powder, rice grains, yellow turmeric powder, white sugar flowerettes, stringed white sugar discs called batasha, a mud lamp, flowers, a small pot of water, a whole skinned coconut and sometimes a bunch of green grams attached to their stems.

We’d all walk together as a group and along the way other groups from other buildings would merge in.

At the bonfire, my grandma (and the other women) would lay down their thalis and perform the puja, while I would copy their actions without any comprehension or conviction or lack of it.

After offerings of the red powder and the rice grains, the coconut would be put into the fire along with the grams. (Later the priest’s helpers would retrieve the consecrated coconut from the fire and give back half to the offerer and keep half for the temple to distribute to other devotees.). She would then walk around the holi bonfire in the clockwise direction carrying the pot of water at an angle to allow a steady trickle as she walked. Three rounds later she would stop and offer the flowers and hold the lamp in her hand and perform an ‘arti’ of the holi bonfire murmuring some prayer chants that I never quite learnt.

We’d then urge the busy helpers to give us back a coconut half and he’d plod and poke with his irons into the fire and retrieve one.

This would mark the end of the prayer service.

The women gathered would then put a little color on each other since they would not be meeting on the following day of dhuleti. After a little chit chat we’d all head back home.

In those days – water balloons had just been introduced and boisterous young boys would stand at their windows and throw these at the women as they all walked back from the puja. As was customary and expected, the women would pout a few harsh words at them (a show of approval would have taken the fun out of the boys’ mischief) and the boys would laugh and hide. This was all done in good spirit, and I am certain that the women would have felt neglected had the boys failed to ‘trouble’ them with this fun stuff.

With heightened spirits and very fulfilling community bonding everyone would reach home, too excited to sleep, because the next day was ‘dhuleti’ the play of colors.

The Holi bonfire night is usually shadowed out by the glamour and the excitement of the color play and when most people speak of Holi, they speak of the color play. But they are part of the same 2-day festival.

Over the 2 years that I lived in Mumbai I planned again and again to show my children the bonfire – but unfortunately, I failed. As expected, I managed to organise spectacular dhuletis for them but the bonfire experience remained elusive and became a regret.

Yesterday, unplanned, un-orchestrated at a moment’s notice I decided to be a part of the bonfire and I watched it from the beginning.  Reliving my past, cancelling out a regret.

A few terrible pictures of a very happy experience :

Before the fire is lit

The additional dried leaves and logs to fuel the fire

Lit Bonfire

Video 1 : Circling around the Holi with folded hands

Video 2 : The Priest offering worship

Video 3 : Lighting the Holi fire (this bigger video will be put up once I have faster internet)

 

For years I held on to these wistful dreams and hopes of reliving these experiences …..and I finally did it!

Having learnt that the critical factor in living this desire was not the ‘effort’ but the ‘decision’ I am encouraged to live out more of these ….

 

jm

March 2012

 

Intense Spirituality – the Thaipusam Festival

They say spirituality awakens at a particular moment – and that moment is necessarily different for each person.

I do not think I have reached my moment yet. But I have been fortunate to have witnessed the deep spirituality of others, some as young as 20!

Watching men who are so devoted to a being that they put themselves through intense pain for hours – left me moved and completely impressed at the Thaipusam festival in Singapore.

Men and women pierce their bodies with spikes and hooks and use these to carry or pull weights as a mark of devotion to Lord Murugan. These men then walk from one temple to another about 2 km away on slippers that have nails poking through them.

To the onlooker the pain they put themselves through is as intense as their spirituality. But I am told they feel very little pain…….

Images from a deeply moving experience:

1. At the Temple :

The Gods

The starting point of the procession – Sri Srinivas Perumal Temple

A lady praying for her son before she gives him blessings

Pre-spiking preparation and puja

2. The act of piercing

4 rods act as the main pillars for the structure. Measurements are taken and markings are put on the front as well as the back before piercing the body with the rods.

Making body markings with ash for the piercings

This is where the 4 prinicpal pillars that hold up the structure will be attached to the body

The actual piercing ….

In addition to the 4 principal rods shown above there are numerous thin metal sticks that support the structure. These are attached to the sides, the chest and the upper back.

The young man about as old as my son

Piercing

Hooks are used where needed and a plug is used to hold it in place.

The act of piercing

The momentary pain

The Peacock crown to be placed atop the metal structure

Once the piercings are in place the devotee and his entourage offer prayers before leaving to join the procession

Worshipping the holy flame the “aarti” before beginning

3. The Procession

The  journey is going to be a long one ….

with sandals that have nail spikes!

Leaving the temple and joinign the procession

As if bearing the pain were not enough……the devotees dance to offer worship! Their limitless spirit deserves a salute

Other devotees serve the procession walkers by pouring water containing turmeric – as it has healing properties – on the feet of devotees.

Children may offer worship without spikes

4. Closeups and details of Piercings

Rudraksh seeds

The forehead marks of Shiva

The ash seen here offers spiritual resistance to pain

Kavadis decorated with Puja string and hooked onto the devotee’s back

Carrying the Kavadi

 5. The Chariot Puller

Pulling a chariot with the hooks on his back

6. The Women

Women are the weaker sex?

Another lady devotee

7. The Chinese Devotee

Chinese devotees – a delightful surprise and a testimony to the inter racial harmony in Singapore

8. The Tonsured Devotees

Tonsure is another way of offering worship

Concluding thoughts

It is a Hindu custom to offer reverence by touching the feet of another – usually an elder. Although the practice is followed very commonly with younger people touching the feet of older people simply as a matter of greeting, I have rarely done this unless I truly respect the person. Today I did that to a total stranger. An old man in a procession with spikes and hooks all over his body.

The man whose feet I touched

I truly respected the strength of his spirit – and so I touch his feet as he walked in the procession on Serangoon Road, Singapore. He, and all the others like him, some of them  as young as my son, are way superior to me. In endurance, in spirituality  and in mental strength. Someday I hope that the blessings I received from the old gentleman will make me stronger than I am and at least a fraction as strong as he is!

Someday I hope to find devotion within myself that would be intense enough to shatter the limitations of being human!

jm

Feb 2012

Over 100 Hi res images will be available on jainamishra.com.

Ram Leela at Dassera in Mumbai

The Ramayan is a well known epic about the triumph of good over evil.

But the Ram Leela – the enactment of the Ramayana is a lesser known event.

In the olden days, given the poor literacy rates, the medium of drama transmitted this religious tale across the generations through the Ram Leela. Today, while literacy is not a problem, the interest and the time to read such a vast book are still in short supply, and so drama makes a good medium even today. (it is not only the rural villagers who have not read the ramayana – but even as an MBA I have not, and in my vast network I doubt more than a handful have read this book from which Hindus draw many of their life foundations)

Ram Leela is a street play – a folk play that enacts the entire Ramayana over 10 days preceding the anniversary of the final triumph of Ram over Ravan. Live bands play the tabla and harmonium and accompany the chanting of sanskrit shlokas. All female roles are played by men as in the old world when these traditions were created, the women were strictly behind the purdah or the ghoonghat. Since this is for the benefit of the community usually temples and other charities sponsor the show that goes on for 10 days.

Given the crowds that are expected, this also gives rise to small local fairs with ferris wheels and balloons and fun foods.

So – among the rural folk in North India the Ram Leela is not only an occasion to remember God but also a time for community bonding.

In the parts of Bombay that house large numbers of traditional North Indians, this festival is celebrated with great fervour over 10 days and ends in the burning of the effigy of Raavan.

A few images taken in Khar, Bombay in 2011

 

A man dressed as a woman

A priest makes an announcement

Priests walk through the crowd and offer blessings with the diya lamp and collect donations

All assets – such as scooters and cars are worshipped on this day

The crowd build up : Crowd at 4pm

Crowd at 5pm

Crowd at 6pm

Crowd at 6.30 pm

The crowd at 7pm

My new friends whose parapet I clicked from

the 10 heads of Ravan imply his high IQ

A bull participates in the festival fun

Ram arrives with the arrow of fire

The arrow strikes Ravan

The straw filled inside the effigy catches fire and the smoke spreads through the structure

Evil vanquished ….and good triumphs

jm

Nov 2011

Dreams I dreamt but did not live : the Ambubasi Tantric Fair

My first visit to the Kamakhya temple or Kamakshi temple exposed me a little to its history and to its significance.

Every year this temple celebrates the Ambubasi Tantric fair in the midst of the monsoons. Tantrics from all over emerge from their seclusion to worship the goddess during this festival. I had made all plans and arrangements to go there. But I couldn’t live that dream. Maybe next year.

Kamakhya Temple in the Nilachal hills in Guwahati is one of the most important centers of Shakti worship in India. But the Kamkhya Temple does not have an idol or image of Shakti or any of her forms like Sati or Kamakya, Durga, Parvati or Kali. What is worshipped is a natural crevice in a rock that symbolizes the ‘Yoni’ (female genitalia or vagina). The rock cut in the shape of a yoni is surrounded by a pool created by an underground spring or stream.

Kamakhya Temple is one among the 51 Hindu Shakti piths. Legend has it that Lord Shiva was carrying the body of his dead wife Sati around the world. There seemed to be no end to Shiva’s anger and grief. This led to an imbalance in the universe. Finally, Lord Vishnu decided to decimate the body of Sati and her body into 51 pieces. It is believed that ‘Yoni’ of Sati fell at the spot where the present Kamakhya Temple stands.

The sanctum sanctorum of the Kamakhya Temple is in the form of a cave and is reached after passing two chambers.

On my last trip, I stood in the queue for awhile, before entering the temple. After seeing the ground level worship area, there are steps that lead to the sanctum sanctorum.

Dark- blindingly dark. Narrow. A crowd inching forward on the spiralling stairwell. Silence. Echoes of chants by the priests below. All combine to create a sense of spacelessness. As the steps wind downwards the only guide is the dim light from the fire lamp offering to the non-idol, non-deity, spot which is believed to be the goddess.

The most intriguing thing about this temple is the story behind the Ambubasi festival.

During the monsoons, the water in the underground stream turns red.  This is believed to be the menstrual blood of the goddess from her annual menstrual cycle. For 3 days the temple remains closed as the Goddess goes through post-menstruation purification rituals.  When the temple opens, priests hand out as Prasad – not coconut or sweets, but bits of damp red cloth that are believed to be the goddess’s blood. Receiving this is considered highly auspicious and powerful, specially by the tantrics.

*

As I travel and experience different life models, I try not to be judgemental and try to see things from the perspectives of the creators of the culture. But in this case I find it hard to do. But I am trying.

Maybe the reason that my plans to visit the Ambubasi festival did not work out, because I was not ready yet. Because I was not accepting enough. Because I stood among the spectators and judged.

Maybe by next year I will have worked on my mind sufficiently to empathise and to understand. And to receive the prasad with grace and gratitude.

*

jm

August 2011

Street Shrines of India

The Gods are everywhere – literally.

In busy Bombay, in parts where its working class real people live, almost every street has a wayside shrine.

A holy tree or an unusual rock or a strange find are all it takes for someone to glorify the location and create a shrine on the spot. And soon enough the shrine develops a religious following, with the busy passers-by, stopping to pray for a minute and offer gratitude.

The pictures here have been collected across many locations, across many months, across varied photo-shoots, and I will add more images as I capture them.

Santacruz East, Mumbai

Soon enough a micro industry is born around the shrine, with vendors of offerings – such as flowers, coconuts and  milk -  setting up shop around the shrine. Feeding a cow earns one good karma, so this gives rise to a commercial proposition  – a cow is parked near the shrine and the owner of the cow sells you a stack of grass to feed the cow! You earn your karma and the cow-owner makes a profit. A win-win situation for all! Will post pictures of this  in a few weeks…

Street Shrines are not restricted to Bombay – they are everywhere:

Colorful shrines.  From Goa – naturally!

Note the device created especially to hang the worship bell!

Tree shrines are a special case of street shrines. Mature Banyan and Pipal trees are commonly selected for women-only patronage. On certain festivals, women fast and tie red and yellow auspicious thread to the tree during the worship that involves 7 circumabulations. The object of the prayer is usually the husband.

tree shrines

As can be seen, the architect has made arrangements to accommodate the tree….the two tress shown above are in different locations and a roof with a tree-trunk-freeway is a common sight all across India. Plants and trees find a natural place in vedic chants and mantras…so finding a place within a building seems to be a trivial matter!

lamps of worship

Coin offerings

On the banks of Brahmaputra river

Gauhati

There are many more such shrines I have in mind and will click them soon – like the one on Patto bridge Goa, the one at Khar Danda, Bombay, the one on Carter Road in the sea that has begun to acquire a cult-like following….

The number and the variety of street shrines I see on my travels has me convinced that these quaint un-priested unstructured, unofficial residences of the Gods, unsung and un-glorified, far outnumber their official residences – the temples.

And the Gods ARE indeed everywhere!

RECENT ADDITIONS:

Swayambhunath, Nepal

Kathmandu outskirts

Betim, Goa

On the way to Nathu la pass, Sikkim

On the way to Tashiding, West Sikkim

At Tashiding, Sikkim

A shrine in Goa at the lighthouse along the river Mandovi:

Note the temple bells …. the threat of theft has led to the building of a protective  ‘cage’

More as and when I find them…

May 2011:

More images from my iPhone:

Near Madhu Park, Bombay – note the numerous bells offered in worship by devotees – an extremely popular street shrine

A paddy field in Goa – enshrining two ‘lingam’ stones that were probably found here

In a village paddy field in Goa in Kadamba style

at the extremely busy Patto bridge in Panaji, Goa

More from Ladakh

on the way to shey palace

nubra valley

18000 ft above sea level at Khardungla pass

nubra valley

nubra valley

Additions – Jan 2013 : Orissa

Read a related article on ‘The Travelling godmen of India’ here.

jm

Jan 2011

 

The Narakasura Festival, Goa

Goa. Narakasur. Pre-Diwali.

A unique folk festival that I noticed for the first time in 2004  then became more and more tuned in every subsequent year.

Krishna killed demon Narakasura on this pre-Diwali night and Hindus in Goa (and some other parts of southern India) re-enact the scene by building straw Narakasuras and then burning them down amidst celebrations.

Here in Goa, people in every neighbourhood build their very own Narakasura for this festival. In the city, a straw demon can be spotted at approximately every 100 meters and in the village at every 500m.

Constructing these two storey tall straw men is not easy – and takes about 10 days of effort. Materials have to be gathered, the design needs to be worked out creatively and finally the actual construction needs to be implemented. People of all ages work on the construction – with the older people providing guidance and experience,  the youth carrying the responsibility and the kids being given the fun and easy tasks. The women of the house provide the flow of festive snacks and the motivation.

Three days before Diwali, I invited myself to the group that was building one in my neighbourhood, and helped in gluing and painting their work of art. We’d begin working after dinner sitting in the compound, amidst newspapers, music and finger foods and continue past midnight.  In the rush to get the demon standing upright on the last night, we hardly slept – since the evil demon that we had just created had to be vanquished at 4am.

A photo-journey through the amazing state of Goa during Narakasura season…

Hay, sticks, paper, metal, clothes, glue and firecrackers go into building these.

Every corner is crowded with groups of young people – some planning and building the Naraksura, others just enjoying the festive spirit.

The final product…creative colors, creative masks an creative situational elements!

Although the roots are religious, everyone participates in this festival, and the group that took me in and allowed me to join into their fun activity was an all-catholic bunch of teenagers.

The final moments – setting the demon on fire…

Pre dawn burning…

The end of one more energising festival that bonds the community closer. The build up for weeks leading to the final spectacular climax…..through teamwork and positive soul fulfilling positive spirits!

What a festival, what a place!!

jm

photos from 2008 (pre-SLR)

Goan Folk Art – Tulsi Pots

Goa is known for its beaches …but over the years its numerous hidden attractions have revealed themselves to me, slowly, one at a time, ensuring that I remain in love with this place year after year after year!

I have talked about the villages earlier and the quiet soothing solitude that pervades the village homes.

Here I want to showcase one of Goa’s folk art forms – the Tulsi pot that adorns every Hindu home.

Most Goans live on landed property or at least own one. Tiled roofs, pillars, seats in the balcony, a few trees are all part of the character. One important must-have in the compound near the entrance is a declaration of religion. Christians have crosses and Hindus have a tulsi plant.

I do not know the origin of this architectural custom, which probably has its origins in the days of the Portugese, but it remains staunchly present in the lives of Goans today.

The tulsi plant is worshiped and watered by the lady of the house every morning, immediately after her bathing rituals. Worship includes offerings of flowers, arti with a lamp fire, circumambulation, chanting  and some prasad (blessed food).

hibiscus offering at the base

marigold offering inside the pot

brass lamp arti left at the base after worship

A thriving tulsi is a sign of a well nurtured home. And conversely, a neglected tulsi is a sign of an unprosperous neglected home.

a tulsi pot in a house that is no longer lived in

The pots used for these plants have an integrated stand, and the soil container is at about 3 feet from the ground.

It is easy to not notice this form of domestic art- that goes unsung and remains embedded deep within the daily lives of its creators.

It is not created for commerce, nor is it sale-able or transferable. It is just art in everyday life created purely for the consumption of the creators. As a result, no market pressures bear on the art itself and traditions are maintained intact and unadulterated. No influence of the trader and the foreign buyer makes corrupting demands like ‘make pieces in X color / size / form because that is preferred by the buyer from Y city / country’.

Further, folk art is different from many art forms in another respect – the sponsors: there is not royalty that sponsors this art. In royalty sponsored art, a particular class of artists / craftsmen emerge, with a competitive spirit that vies to please royalty with its perfection and finesse. The creators remain limited to a small group of society whose profession is creation of the art, whereas in folk art, every household is an art creator.

Finally, royalty / commerce sponsored art gets evaluated on parameters of wealth – better materials, higher quality and quantity of workmanship etc.. In the case of folk art, there are no such evaluative measures – each creator is doing it for himself or herself – ‘svanto sukhaaye’ – for the fulfilment of one’s own spirit. Therefore, judging folk art by parameters of finesse is futile.

This distinction is seen even in rugs – royalty sponsored rugs that emerged from Isfahan are evaluated by knots per square inch. But tribal rugs – Shekarlus and Qashqais – woven for the functional use of their own families, have no concept of KPSI or symmetry or perfection, and yet have more beauty within them than most city rugs.

The beauty of the tulsi pots lies in its choice of colors, the combinations used and the form itself.

motif details :

Colors are bright and the combinations of adjoining sections are chosen to display contrast. Simple thinking – producing beautiful results.

But a little story about the hospitality, and the wonderful simplicity of the people creating this art.

As I drove through the village and was about to begin a traffic dance (mentioned in my post about Goan villages) with a bus and a tempo at a difficult junction on a narrow road, my car started smoking. I had to stop the engine immediately and could not move any further.

The bus driver and the tempo could have sorted out their traffic gnarl and driven away, leaving at least some space for subsequent vehicles to pass through, in spite of my stalled car.

But instead, the bus driver and the tempo driver, got out of their vehicles and came to help me. I am  a  driving wuss of the highest degree, and know very little about managing problems such as smoke from the bonnet. So I gladly left this to those who knew. They pushed my car to one side, along with a few villagers who had gathered out of curiosity and a willingness to help, and advised me to let the engine cool before taking further action.

This meant a long wait.

So I asked one of the villagers, a lady – if there was a tea stall around. She replied that the nearest one is a 15 minute walk away – which did not sound appealing at all. So I sat on the kerb and prepared to wait. A few minutes later, the lady came back telling me that she would make me some tea herself …..I was overcome with delight at her hospitality – the tea itself was not important – but the heart that she had to be nice to me without a reason – has left an indelible mark on me.

The innocence, the simplicity, the hospitality of the people of villages of India, is why I love it so much!

the one I like the most

It’s no wonder then, that their simplicity produces art, whose prime feature is its naivete and innocence.

Oct 25th, 2010

jm

Hi-resolution images in large sizes are available on this subject

Other articles on goa can be found here and  here.

The Dhunuchi Dance at Durga Puja

I first experienced this dance through one of the most beautiful Hindi films of this decade – Parineeta.

This dance is performed at the Durga Puja – a hindu festival that has its roots in Bengal.

So here I am in Bombay again, having planned my travel to coincide with durga puja, so that I would not only experience the dance’s energy and beauty, but also capture it into pixels.

devotion

blowing the conch shell

a priest in a dhoti and ang vastram

Tomorrow the dances start – so this evening I went across and  established contact with some organisers of the event – it would be a pity if I were to miss the entire performance because of arrangement errors or permission glitches!

One of the organisers also invited me to participate and dance in the dhunuchi…an idea that I find very appealing!

Traditions such as these, are all around me, and it is hard to believe that it has taken so many years of life, for me to sit up and take notice!

***

Oct 14th,

Have just come back from the first evening! An absolutely exhilarating time! Drums, dance, coals, dhoop, a beautiful deity and wonderful people who  were strangers when I reached there, but friends by the time I left!

Last week on my photo forum I read someone complain about unfriendly people in Bombay …and I found that totally contrary to my experience. Every single time I step out into this city, I feel it envelop me and include me completely into itself – seamlessly and effortlessly I am absorbed into any sub community as a visitor that they are delighted to welcome! I get absorbed into their lives like a drop gets absorbed into the ocean. The people of Bombay are the most amazingly inclusive people anywhere! And I love it to death!

The people I bonded with at the Durga Puja included 4 people from the organising committee – 3 men and 1 woman, the security guards, and the drum beaters. Each one of them – including the security guard, danced the dhunuchi dance, with a little more abandon specially for my camera. It was an honor bestowed upon me by so many …all strangers.

I succumbed to the irresistible beat too and danced a bit….with the coal pots in my hands! Maybe folk dances have some magic potion in them that draw people into the rhythm and compel them to dance. Tomorrow is the more important day of the 10 day festival – more drums, more dancers, more color, and more preparedness on my part – for photography and for dancing!

***

Oct 16th, 2010

An account of the dance and the rituals…

The dhunuchi dance is a devotional folk dance, and is inclusive…it does not divide people into performers and watchers. Anyone may begin dancing as it is simply one more way of worshipping Durga. The photos that follow show men and women, young people and old, novices and experts all dancing the dhunuchi with equal fervour.

In the dance, individuals pick up clay pots that are shaped like large wine glasses and are filled with burning coconut coir shells or coals, in their bare hands and dance in front of the deity, to the beat of large resounding drums beats. The drummers use a variety of drums and metal plates to create a beat and rhythm that is unique to Bengal.

The evening begins with the ‘arti’ and then the holy arti fire is used to light the coals in the dhunuchi pots.

the flame of the ‘arti’ diya is used to ignite the coals in the clay pots

the ignited coal

the smoking dhunuchi pots with coal and fragrant incense

Individuals take turns at this dance and sway and move around the staging area, facing the goddess, moving their burning hands in graceful movements. Smoke and sound and movement fill the air creating an immersive trance-like atmosphere in which devotees dance. The drummers lead the dancers with their beats – sometimes slow, sometimes fast…and together they form around as a single united being.

A photo-profile of the men whose beats awaken latent desires to dance ..

The drum beaters, have been specially imported from a village in Bengal and belong to a community and sub-caste whose inherited profession is drum beating.

They speak only Bengali, but with match enthusiasm on both sides, it is not impossible to communicate with them with only fragments of language.

stunning foot work

not surprising that the drum beater himself couldn’t resist the call of the drums and began to dance

a toddler gets the place of honor in the midst of the drum beating

Finally the dancers and their devotional dhunuchi dance…

taking blessings

10 year old boy and teenagers

college girls

a new bride

seniors

first timers…

and

skilled dancers..
with technique

and now the masters…

and the grand finale….

This fabulous folk festival lasts 10 days and ends with the immersion of the idol on the 10th day. Every year it has been organised in the same spot about 6km from my home since I was a child…but it is only this year that I noticed the dhunuchi dance!!

The depth of my ignorance startles me and keeps me laughing at myself!

jm