Good Cocktail

Do the two fields of Human condition , i.e. Development and Art make a good mix? Think about it, it can either be nicely cocktailed or it can go really bad. Asit is right in reminding me, that tradition is something to learn from, and what really have you done when you haven't added your art to it? Hence, where will development and empowerment come from otherwise?

These words inspire me to think about all the work we do with building houses in poor regions, rural settings and disaster situations. Shouldn't the rural artisans or regular contractors involved in daily work must be inspired to put art in their development work?

Really, how much of this cocktail can really go bad?

Good Morning Gloominess

Is it isn't because of the gloom and the feeble struggles of lights trying to seep inside this room from the few windows it has that I can see the vapour rising from my new hot cup of tea?

Imagine what would happen when suddenly you find that this next morning you have your tea cup missing from its usual place?

Nothin. You just might wanna sketch it.
 

Watercolors

To enable you to make a painting or draw a sketch, you need your mind in peace, or a certain restlessness.  Let me try to explain this.

Well, today I am looking outside my window and all I see is grey trees, windows and everything grey.  Really, everything is grey indeed.  The head gets gloomy and numb.  And perhaps, the only way to deal with this gloom is to draw something colourful.  In my opinion Water Colours can be one good choice here.  There is no need to draw something within boundaries or any specific colour, just find something cheery, I mean a cheery colour, mix a few drops of clean water, to it. Pankaj says, "thicker the paper the better it is; so,  the colour water can flow within as well as on the surface of the paper".  Just look outside the window, your window, and draw what you see.  Remember, no boundaries or no fixed lines, just your few cheery water colours flowing.  And, using "black" for colour here would only give more contrast.

Keep colouring keep drawing, you might get so absorbed in your work that next time you look up at the window, you will find that the beautiful darkness has arrived.


Below, one wintry day in Delhi...

 

The Time Warp of Capacity Building

The so called capacity building in development slash empowerment programmes in India appear to be in a time warp. 'Capacity building', a term which aims for human development is pretty much an intangible term made tangible through mostly grant-in-aid type of projects, and with a major chunk focussing on trainings for skill development; and in the cases of poor and vulnerable, for income generation. In addition, it is slowly becoming apparent that the likes of Aid agencies, Government and Non Government Organizations (NGO's) who design such capacity building policies and implement them have perhaps become dated entities, or own some sort of a secretly kept time-machine to travel swiftly through time to know and be enlightened about the problems a developing society faces and opportunities it might have.

So, I bendly ask the time warpers- if they factor for 'time' as a component in their so called 'capacity building' programmes, or not? If not, perhaps with changing time you can think of including it. As time becomes an important -- from an intangible to a tangible -- term in today's India, instead of more than helping anyone anymore, it can , or has, become a factor representing degeneration. One gets a little more dated as time passes. Therefore, the so called capacity building projects offering benefits without a denominator of time should be simply considered obsolete. Even the secret time-machine is not of much use here, because even a time-machine may need amends with time.

Think again. About, the so called 'Capacity Building' programmes. What progress is an individual expected to make unless he has been equipped to compete and improve over time?

The Chequer (folk song)

I am black and I am white, simultaneously,
I am juxtaposed with myself, clearly,
I can be visible and I can hide, simply,
because, I am, I am, a chequer.

I can cut a curve, sew a patch, easily,
I can be a word or can destroy one, comfortably,
I am right and I am wrong, knowingly,
because, I am, I am, a chequer.

I am a game and I am a board, playfully,
I can be steps, and I can be stepped on, laterally,
I am boring and all this while I can be amusing, truly,
because, I am, I am, a chequer.

I can smile and all this while I can be sad, cheerfully,
I am false and I am true, paradoxically,
I am me and I can be you, think-of-it,
because, I am, I am, a chequer.

hey hey hey hey, I am, I am, a chequer.

Animaldom

 
The morning was dewy and light soft. Walking with Shubham on a smooth pavement next to the river, the still river flowed along the left of the road. On the right continued a lane of well maintained light green grass lawns. The occasional neighbourhood found rare in India, and mostly in dreams, has posh houses lined behind the lawns. Ah, an elite artist friend lives in one of them! We think of visiting him, so we jump the bordering feet high bushes which after the communal lawns lead to the private garden of his property. A dog like creature is hiding in the small bush and growling through it. Shubham tells to watch out since he hasn't seen this kind of animal before. Soon, I am down on my knees pinning the animal by locking his teeth. I look up at Shubham and tell him to have a closer look. I convince him that the thing is neither poisonous nor a reptile, and by now the thing has understood we mean no harm. The rabbit/dog/mini-dragon mellows down, and as soon as it is released he has become playful knowing we are his new friends. The animal who was scared and hiding moments ago is fearlessly rolling, running, jumping around on the greens, looking gay and happy. Meantime, we get called for coffee by the host, and are engrossed in talking and listening about the house's architecture, especially its high span and quality wooden joist ceilings. The talks eventually end and so does the breakfast, and jumping back from the green lawns we notice the bones of the dead animal, with carcass of plain white bones scattered about. We soon notice a few lobsters hanging around about. And, this was perhaps the reason why the iguana cum dog was hiding in the first place. The caterpillar lookalike lobsters, a couple of them around, have had recently fed on our not-so-old friend. Harmless to us, and as tall as street dogs, they are gaily hopping and dancing after their happy meal. For a moment, my heart skipped a few beats as I was accidently about to step on one's feet. The two are of dynamic plastic colours like Lego toys standing in front of us like earth-digging equipment. We both hum and agree, "yeahh it is all about survival".

 Next day we call on my friend again. This time his old age naukar receives us at the door and tells us in a scruffy tone that his master is not in house since he has gone out on business, and he is not sure when he will return. No cup of tea is asked.

 Walking dryly with Shubham, I start thinking we humans have become like this- valuing things and having friends only for the moment. And, when the moment's gone so is the reason why we valued those things. We just look forward to a new day, new friends and new things.
 

How Dreams Become Real

Think again when someone asks, "how do dreams become real?"

And, I think one suggestion can be- if your night sleep is broken, do not curse or become miserable, just get up and switch on your music player and preferably play a list of some folk songs. Go back and try to catch up with the rest of your sleep.

The Pete Seeger's "A Link In the Chain" is a thirty eight song album, and I hear an Angloman singing one of its songs while he descends steps and a passageway; his voice echoing because of the side walls. It was a usual cloudy day in Manchester and it was a surprise to see good old bald Mike, the office admin handy assistant, humming the tune, and soon bursting out into the whole song. The spotless grip on pronunciation of words and control on the tune made me an immigrant Indian engineer think, "yes, this is the way a song should be sung. See how perfectly he sang it. What a treat!"

The clock had struck seven approximately, and the Indian engineer found himself waking up fully and finally in another solitudal bight morning which belongs to Dahod. The waking up clarified that it has been years since the engineer has spoken to Mike. The latter half of the sleep had Mike and this real-definition music video as a dream. Nevertheless, the morning dream did give a nice high. The dream had made it a day even before it had started, for it was too real, and it would cover up for the rest of the mundane routine day ahead.