Retrieved via the Wayback Machine. Originally posted by Yazad Jal

For the last week I’ve been coming to Kala Ghoda daily. Once you walk into Rampart Row you see the josh, the energy of the festival. The food counters, the puppet shows, the dancers and even the installation art has certain vitality. The corridors of the David Sassoon library look cool and inviting with lovely pictures of Bombay’s past. The garden in the back can be packed with hundreds who’ve come to listen to Shantaram.

The one thing I haven’t seen is disruption of traffic. Or any intrusion into the lives of those who simply want to pass by without peeking in. I walked to Regal today. Once I left the environs of Kala Ghoda, I was back in “normal Bombay” as if there was no Kala Ghoda Festival on. I believe this is one of the great successes of the organizers - being able to run such a vivacious festival without inconveniencing others. If only it were adapted more widely!

Post title suggested by Ravikiran Rao

Retrieved via the Wayback Machine. Originally posted by Yazad Jal

Theatre for me is more than the acting, lights, sounds, sets and props. It needs to have a little bit of magic. Large West End musicals sometimes have that magic. Cats had it. And sometimes folk theatre performed in the back garden of an old library has it.

Four short stories on cricket, ghosts, antique shops and jalebis. Poignant and playful the stories were told in a simple manner. All the actors were on stage all the time. Those not playing a part sat quietly in the background, merging with the set. The props used were basic, but managed to transform the actor into the character. An obviously false beard, but it made the masterji look authentic. Just a dupatta covering the head for a conservative housewife. And a ribbon in the plait for a little sweet schoolgirl. The acting was so real that I was there in the school, out in the street eating jalebis, and driving down Chandni Chowk to an antique shop.

I later spoke to two of the players, the husband wife team of Digvijay Savant and Shivani Vakil. There stories were first adapted by Ramu Ramanathan from Yuva Katha and first performed on 9/11! They’ve been adapted especially so that they could be performed anywhere - in school libraries, laboratories, even corridors! The sets and props are there to give a flavour of the lok-natya or folk theatre and appeal to a wide spectrum from South Bombay snobs to suburban security guards! Shivani adapted the jalebi script for her students at Walsingham School, and Digvijay has worked with street children from Aasra in Thane.

Short Stories from Around the Country. Performances by Shivani Vakil, Digvijay Savant, Anupama Jayaram, Jasvinder Singh & Dilshad Eidbam at the David Sassoon Garden on February 8 at 7.30pm

Retrieved via the Wayback Machine. Originally posted by Yazad Jal

Right now I’m supposed to be walking around the Oval, taking in the heritage sights and sounds. Unfortunately, at 5 pm, when the walk was to start opposite Rajabai Tower, a Kala Ghoda crew member softly announces that the walk was already over. It started at 10:30 am today!

Not possible. I’d checked the schedule from the official Kala Ghoda website and it says 5 pm. Here’s a snapshot of the page:

This blog had 10:30 am as the time. I wasn’t sure, so I went with the “official” website. Should trust one’s co-bloggers more! Just to double check I went to the help desk and the schedule there had it as 10:30 am. So can’t complain too much. Damn, if only all the schedules matched!

Retrieved via the Wayback Machine. Originally posted by Yazad Jal

Three writers. Reading from their books. Talking about serious issues. An invigorating discussion with the audience. Sounded like a fun way to spend two hours.

(photo courtesy: Akshay Mahajan)

Shivani Vakil read out a passage from Scarred: Experiments with Violence in Gujarat where Dionne Bunsha visits a VHP / Bajrang Dal “training camp” in Gujarat. Bunsha patiently described the activities at the camp, from rifle shooting to religious lectures to training for emergencies. Her gentle interaction with the camp supervisors and interviews with young men attending the camp opened up a small window helping me understand the roots of the riots in Gujarat.

Dilip D’Souza spoke about his transition from software programmer to writer, seeking elegance and logical processes in both activities. He read from his book Branded By Law about a chance encounter with Deepakbhai, a tribal who was at the same public meeting. Both of them were bored by the speeches and Deepakbhai invited Dilip over to his small hut next to a dirty sewer. And so impressed was Deepakbhai with Dilip’s concern that he exhorted Dilip “to never leave the feeling for the poor that I’ve seen in your heart”

Darryl D’Monte spoke about his experiences while writing Ripping the Fabric:
The Decline of Mumbai and Its Mills giving us an insight into the sale of the Khatau Cloth Mill lands in Byculla and the involvement of the underworld leading to the murder of Sunit Khatau in 1994.

After this, Darryl threw open the floor for questions and comments. Not one to leave such an opportunity abegging, I asked the first question on using technology like the Internet and blogging to enhance reach and promote an interactive dialogue. Dilip, though a blogger himself, was a tad pessimistic about the reach of the Internet. Dionne was far more enthusiastic, being tired of “writing in a vacuum” and wanted Dilip to help her start a blog. A nice old lady vigorously insisted that Darryl was being too kind to Datta Samant who was quite a violent man. Darryl defended Samant and his role in the labour movement, conceding that Samant may have been violent, but he wasn’t the only one.

We then took part in the favorite sport of the highbrow in Bombay - TOI bashing. It started with another lady bemoaning how newspapers of her generation were looked up to, unlike today. Various favorite stories of how the Times is trash were told. Was good fun, considering that Darryl was Resident Editor of the Times in the early 1990’s and Dionne was a former TOI reporter. In the spirit of fairness (yes, even for the Times of India), I gingerly pointed out that the city pages of the Times had substantially improved their coverage in the last few months and that the Times was a sponsor for cultural events, including the Kala Ghoda Festival. That caused a bit of a furore with Dionne accusing the Times of being insular, not looking beyond the city and “it really isn’t a newspaper’s job to sponsor festivals.” Darryl spoke of how the Times blacked out the Bandra Festival just because it was sponsored by DNA.

In sum, I had an enjoyable time hearing extracts and experiences from three keen writers followed by a lively discussion. One of the best events I’ve attended up till now at the Festival.

Hey, you were at this event? So was I!

Comment by Anand on February 10, 2006 @ 11:14 am

A beautiful account. I couldn’t make it to the discussion, sadly.

Comment by Yazad on February 10, 2006 @ 12:11 pm

Really Dilip? Your family was sitting close-by, but didn’t see you with them. Must’ve missed you ;-)

Retrieved via the Wayback Machine. Originally posted by Yazad Jal

One of the best things about blogging here has been the wonderful pictures for which I owe eternal gratitude to my co-bloggers with cameras. If you want to spend some time just gazing at them, click here for a slideshow.

New pictures keep getting uploaded on flickr, so visit often. And all you nice readers with cameras and flickr accounts visiting the Kala Ghoda Festival can also join in the fun. Simply tag your festival pics “kgaf06?.

Currently, my favorite picture is this one taken by Akshay:

Retrieved via the Wayback Machine. Originally posted by Yazad Jal

Walked the heritage walk. Stood for Shantaram. Caught a bit of dance. Grabbed a bite of chaat and momos. Breathed the installation art. Peeked into the cinema. Skipped the theatre. My tired legs wanted to go home. A friend suggested jazz at Azad Maidan. My only condition was seating space. Luckily there was lots of that-jute sacking laid out on the ground. We made ourselves comfortable and waited for the Amit Heri group.

I like jazz, but can’t explain it in words. I lay down and let the waft over me. Looking at Orion’s faint belt up in the sky somehow made “The Elephant’s Walk” come through the bass guitar, drums and saxophone. The musicians conversed: smiling, nodding and gesturing. Enjoying the they created together.

The place was half full when we’d walked in. People trickled in. And it wasn’t just us middle-class snobs. We shared space with street children and daily wage labourers who’d walked in hearing the . The kids horsed around a bit. Overzealous security had to be restrained from behaving badly in an attempt to throw them out. Like me, I’m sure the kids found the different, but enjoyable. This is perhaps what I liked most during the weekend. The Kala Ghoda festival is not just for the swish set, but for all. The festival events are free and open to the public. Us middle class wallahs can afford to pay for the performances. Street kids and daily wage labourers cannot. And it was heartening to have them sitting at Azad Maidan listening to some nice jazz.

Comment by charukesi on February 6, 2006 @ 7:56 pm

Yazad, I know what you mean by the street kids being there - I saw the same faces on both days I ws there - and they were having such a blast, dancing and painting and generally enjoying themesleves . art for once is accessible and that to me is the success of the kgaf!

Comment by akshay on February 7, 2006 @ 8:34 am

I’m glad to here that the festival is accessible to everyone - especially street children. I saw them too yesterday at the Alms for Shanti.

Retrieved via the Wayback Machine. Originally posted by Yazad Jal

As a child, I often wondered where or what was the “Kala Ghoda”? Was it a prancing horse like that on a Ferrari? Or a wild animal escaping from a Husain canvas? Or a black beauty imported from England?

Alas, reality was a let down. During a visit to the zoo, my history teacher pointed out an old, ordinary looking statue of Prince Edward astride a horse. She said that it once stood imperiously over the Fort area and people called it the Kala Ghoda. After independence, we removed all statues that reminded us of British rule and dumped them in secluded corners of zoos.

But the statue doesn’t really matter. It’s the idea of Kala Ghoda that still hovers around a small corner in Fort, not just during these nine days every February, but throughout. The idea of a confluence of activities in an urban space. A place for art, business, education, shopping, a place to just hang out and admire the architecture. Apart from writing about the events and the atmosphere during the Kala Ghoda Arts Festival, I also hope to capture a bit of that idea of Kala Ghoda.