Bengal beyond Kolkata

No. Bengal is not about Kolkata. Although the magnificent city is the capital of the state, I feel that the true stories of Bengal can be discovered in the sleepy villages and towns away from the Mahanagar. The stories from Bengal are as varied as its cuisine, and just as overlooked. At a Bengal Craft Fair recently organised in New Delhi, I had the opportunity to meet some amazing artisans from the state. It was a humbling experience because I learnt that art is a gift and as a human, it the duty of those blessed with artistic abilities to hone our skills over a lifetime in homage to the Almighty.

The simplest facets of a Bengali household comprise of lovingly handmade items, like the humble "madur" or carpet. At the Craft Fair, I realised that the women of Medinipur district have been crafting the madur and other items from the leaves of local trees to be used across Bengali households in the state and beyond.

I had the great fortune of meeting Tuli, an artist from Bankura district where painting on various materials is the preferred handicarft. She is the mother of a five-year-old and learnt the craft from her mother-in-law after marriage. In time, she has become a well-known artist in the region and travelled to a big city, New Delhi, to showcase her art. I was attending the first major showcase of her talent! She went back to the painting she was working on after telling me that most of the designs were inspired by folklore and the technique has been handed down from one generation to the next through practice.

I stood by, amazed. At a time when the India around me is clamouring for better space for women, here is a woman from a village in West Bengal who demonstrated the perfect work-life balance. Once back home, she goes right back to being a mom and a home-maker along with being an artist.

The ordinary hall was lit up by so many colours with stories both of folk and reality springing out from every corner. I was not able to capture the image of the masks from Purulia, which I must add were a prized section of the display. But I intend to. At the Bengal Art and Literary Festival at the India Habitat Centre from December 25-27. Do step in for your share of folktales from Bengal.

WHAT: Bengal Art and Literary Festival
WHEN: December 25-27
WHERE: India Habitat Centre, Lodhi Road

The walls are blank

When I joined my office in Shahpur Jat, New Delhi, in February 2014, Israeli graffiti artist Mattiah Lullini was busy mapping the wall in front of our office. This was the site allocated to him to put forward his work. He was part of the international graffiti artists visiting India for the first ever St.Art festival. He had managed to rent himself a ladder for Rs 50 per day but was not happy about it at all. "It was just lying there and this guy is charging me for touching it," he had later rued. It was very difficult to me to explain that the residents of Shahpur Jat had absolutely no idea what he was trying to do and why his painting on the wall was of any significance.

Just over a year later, this piece of work (shown above) is history. I don't mean to get poetic about the loss of art as graffiti is not meant to last forever, I am told. It is important to put the message out. Perhaps that is why I am hurt. The message, so beautifully portrayed by international artists in India, never really got across. The people of Shahpur Jat, Khirkee Village and Hauz Khas village did not give a damn.

"The whispering girls" by Alina Vergnano (above) was showcased in two places in Shahpur Jat. While one was lost to reconstruction, the other was painted over by the jeweller who owns the store. Two of her works have survived in Delhi. One at Connaught place, commissioned by Inlingua School of Languages and the other at the Ogaan shop in Hauz Khas village.

For Alias, the festival was his first opportunity to visit India which he said was a dream come true. A simple man who teaches art in a school near Berlin, he has worked on several noted works on the Berlin wall among others. For his debut in St. Art, he tried his hand at a painting, his first ever. "The boy with the slingshot" is all but faded but brings a smile to my face every time I walk past him.
Alias is famous for his stencil works which depict the loss of childhood, globally. His stencils are graphic and can be very disturbing at times. One such stencil of a young boy with a skull instead of a head/face was objected to as soon as he had put it up in Shahpur Jat. Alias had to scratch out the skull from the image (shown above). Honestly, I don't know which one is more emphatic, a boy with a skull for a head or a boy with his skull scratched out! Alias' style involved stencils hidden in obscure places which reflects the childish fear of boys who have been hurt. Some of his works have survived and I am happy that I know where to find them.

This artwork by Tona (above) made it as the cover of the magazine I work for. It still stands. As I mentioned earlier, painful as death is, the natural fading and loss of graffiti is something I can live with but the brutality with which the residents of Delhi's urban villages have torn down some of the pieces of art, simply because they were painted on walls built by them, is abrasive (to me). The giant sketch of a white cat playing with a ball of yarn was also torn down as a new building has come up.

This stencil, also by Tona I think, has been painted over because the owners were "bored" of it. A plain pink facade is so much more interesting, after all. A beautiful cornerhouse collaboration of several artists has laso ben apinted over by the landlord who felt it was "meaningless". Those who had witnessed the creative collaboration will surely remember stopping in their tracks when they had first noticed it.

My office is finally shifting from Shahpur Jat to a more official space in Central Delhi. That completes the circle for me. From watching the first coat of paint being put on these graffiti to the demise of most of my favourite works, from taking friends on a guided trip to share my excitement on the art form to helping another to create his own guided walk. The walls that once spoke of global emotions, now stare back as blankly as the ones that inhabit them.

I am sure that many ore artists will make Delhi's walls their canvas in the time to come but there will always be a special place in my heart for the ones that dared to be the first and the hurt at losing some of the first-borns.