The Kala Ghoda Art Festival 2010 kicked off to a rollicking start on Saturday. After sampling a bit of literature, visual art, music and food through the day, I finally settled on theatre for my final course in the night. The play ‘Dance Like A Man’ was being staged at Horniman Circle at 7.30 p.m.

I’ve attended music events at Horniman Circle before, most of them Kala Ghoda Art Festival events. It is an unconventional setting, a stage in the center of a park. But it works really well, more so for a play than a music concert given the intimate interaction that is possible between audience and performer.

A bench-painting event had been conducted earlier in the evening owing to which all the seating en route to the stage bore ‘Wet Paint’ signboards. It was too dark for photography and I was eager to get to the stage before the play started but I passed some interesting art on the way. (I hope one of us will be able to post photographs soon).

Just as well, I suppose, since we got there just about five minutes before the play began. All the seats were taken so we sat down on the grass and that’s how we watched the entire play. Normally, I would not consider squatting on the ground for a play but like I said, this was an unconventional setting.

The stage and seating area were edged on one side by ‘Lotuses of the Floating World’, an art installation by Sabrina Mascarehas. As I approached the area, I first thought they were diyas floating in a pool. But I soon realized that there is no water body inside the park and the temperature was the uncharacteristic cool of February rather than the heat of a hundred lamps. (Click here to read the whole post)

KGAF 2009 was a far more diverse event than earlier years. There just seemed to be a lot more variety even in the themes that got exhibited.

One strong theme was living in Mumbai - that got carried across the photography exhibit and a giant art walk through. The focus here was basic hygiene factors being denied to over 65% of citizens. Starting with overcrowding, to available toilets, to water supply …. and all of these conveyed through innovative exhibits

A pyramid of plastic buckets.

The other theme, that brought a smile to the face was Chai. ‘made in Chaina’. Mithali Mehta’s exhibit seemed to gently mock at our obsession with all things foreign, while bemoaning the risk to the chai in the face of gloabalisation - don’t worry Mithali, the recession will make sure that the cutting chai will survive - and was a homage to the drink that is everyone’s favourite beverage.

And, of course, less than 10 weeks after 26/11 - there was a giant exhibit of letters and views on terrorism and terrorists. Some were simple, some were hate filled, others wondered why they hate us … in any case it seemed to be the voice of many - as opposed to a few - and it was on display in a raw form that made the words more poignant.

visitors to the exhibit reading the letters

I don’t think that i have ever seen so many people at Kala Ghoda. In a way, the crowds were overwhelming. Personal space dissolved, and you went with the flow. It is the first time that i have seen so many different types of people at KGAF.

This year, a lot more seemed to be happening. More shops, more food, more people, more exhibits, and more variety …I went on a chilly Saturday afternoon. The first thing that strikes you are the crowds…. in fact the first thing that struck me was a whole bunch of kids and a whole bunch of mothers having a blast at the KG children’s festival. Whover said that Indian’s are repressed and undemonstrative doesn’t know what s/he is talking about

The masks marked the event display ! colourful, funny masks of all sorts …

For me, the key displays were the photographsy exhibitions - and by the looks of the crowd milling around - so was it for them. There were beautiful open air exhibits of a Mumbai ’slice of life’

In fact, the crowds were so overwhelming, that after a point i thought that there is no way i can photograph the experience. the chatter, the gasps …. and of course they were jostling my elbow and it seemed kind of churlish to glare at them !

(a senior citizen at the out door photography exhibition )

And, finally,

How can someone not hug him ? :)

The “official car” of the Kala Ghoda Festival is a yellow and black — yes, the Bombay taxi colours — Renault Logan convertible. It has surprisingly scruffy seats, dark grey with yellow piping, and a plastic Bisleri water bottle tucked into the passenger side door pocket. I’ve seen it motorvating up and down Rampart Row several times in my time at the Fest so far; today it is parked under a tree and it attracts plenty of attention. That’s how I can state with confidence that a not-insignificant fraction of the city’s cellphone cameras have the Logan captured on their little CCDs.

(No, I don’t know if the Bisleri bottle is standard equipment or an overpriced option).

Though I will admit, today those cameras may have also, or actually, been aimed elsewhere. Specifically, at the structure to the left of where the Logan was parked. That’s a sculpture called “Bhagwan aaya cycle se“. What it is, is a large Ganesh made entirely of bicycle parts. Wheels, gears, bells, and many hanging chains, waving gently in the breeze.

The idol sports several yellow flowers left by devotees, and more yellow and red petals strewn on a sheet laid out in front. The way the whole tableau is, you might almost think the Logan is part of the Ganesh installation. That it is actually his vehicle, that he has left the bottle in there as a joke on the Renault people. Sort of fits with the playfulness I’ve always liked about Ganesh.

***

At the other end of the festival from the official car is a huge upside down umbrella. I do mean huge: held right side up, it would provide shelter to a pin code or two, no problem.

Then again, it won’t. For it has little square windows cut in the canopy, through which I can see the traffic on MG Road dawdling past, and those windows make it unusable in rainy weather. Not good for an umbrella. But good for an art installation.

It’s called “The Sky and the sky and …”.

Not enigmatic enough for you? Then please go read the paragraph printed below the title, or read it here:

“There is a boundary between Inner Sky and Outer Sky. Habitually the movements, transactions and transactions, are hindered by it. But there are some unknown windows enabling these movements.”

Now that you know, please tell me what it means.

Another exhibit here is called “I am on a diet”. It consists of three (3) seriously distorted cycles, copper plated, and a table somewhere in the middle of them. The sign says:

“The dining cycle form depicts seats of cycle and its parts converted into a dining table … This automatically deszztresses people who feel guilty of EATING.”

I look on guiltily, unable to finish my Gelato Italiano scoop, flavour “Kiet Kat”.

A guest post from Melody.

A: More than you can imagine!

Photographs taken at the Kala Ghoda Arts Festival, the annual art festival in Mumbai housing “Gallery and pavement shows, exhibitions, literary events, film screenings, music concerts, dance performances, theatre shows, workshops, heritage walks, a food fiesta, and a buzzing street festival bring in audiences and participants from all over the city” (cf Kala Ghoda Association)

(Click here to read the whole post)

Ten days ago, I stood in the line for tickets at Bandra station and noticed that the guy in front of me had these lines printed calligraphy-style on his T-shirt:

Stone Dead Forever
Auttgart Sineers
Galaxy Rainers
Bengrance — Witteilingen.
Being Outstanding in a Complex Society Revolution

I know, I know. You feel envious that you weren’t there to read these words for yourself. Believe me, I felt privileged.

But on Sunday (Feb 10) at the Kala Ghoda Festival, I noticed this on a T-shirt that passed by:

Being Outstanding in a Complex Society

Now that has to rank as a seriously improbable coincidence. In years of being a T-shirt slogan watcher, I’ve never seen the same wacky slogan twice. Here it’s happened within ten days. Naturally, I wonder if this is some popular quote, sort of like “Don’t tase me, bro”.

Is it?

(Click here to read the whole post)

So much of the colour at Kala Ghoda comes from not just the artists but the visitors as well. That little street is awash with colour. Art students display their fledgling works. Aspiring writers congregate with journalists. Photographers stroll around, cameras casually hung around their necks. Families wander around wonder and curiosity writ large on their faces. Busy corporate types step out to ‘catch the fest’, ties loosened around their necks and their reactions escaping from their normally controlled faces. Tourists bustle about, wide-eyed at the colour. Teenagers mill about, their natural energy, for once, shared by everyone in the crowd alike, age irrespective.

The different faces of the city walk around marveling at the sights. And at each other.
(Click here to read the whole post)

The art district of Mumbai is hosting a festival. Movies are being screened, workshops conducted, books discussed, plays (and other acts) staged. There is also a mela happening!

Don’t believe me?

Here is a potter. He beckons…come closer. A grinning imp, paint streaked across his face settles down to touch the clay.

(Click here to read the whole post)

At the core of the KGAF, every year, is the street art. From the bizzare to the thought provoking, from the quirky to the cute…. each year the street exhibits manage to get the crowds gawking. And, this year was no exception.
At the centre piece of the KGAF exhibtion was a giant ferris wheels of cycles with dabbhas….

Mumbai Masti - from the exhibition:
If the world is your playground, then Mumbai is certainly a giant ferris wheel. And one that carries everything with it, as it goes around its axis going about its daily business.
(Click here to read the whole post)

A lot of people come to the Kala Ghoda Art Festival in the evening. A lot of people don’t know what they are missing. And it might be a good idea to not be one of that lot of people!

I was lucky. Having signed up for a morning workshop, I ended up in town bright and early and just in time to watch the festivities being set up. I spent the entire weekend in that single lane bordered by Elphinston college, Jehangir Art Gallery, Bombay Natural History society and Rhythm House.

(Click here to read the whole post)

First visit to an event like the KGAF, I prefer not to go attend an event. Instead, I like to simply wander through, getting a feel of place and time and people. (Well, in that third case, not literally a feel, you understand).

And so here’s a feel of what I got a feel of, Saturday opening day evening.

Somebody sold us a lemon tart. (Food wasn’t quite the first priority on my mind as I strolled through, but close enough). Usually, I like lemon tarts: the taste, the texture, the colour. This specimen wasn’t bad, but failed on all three of those counts.

• Instead of a healthy bilious yellow, this one was a pale yellowish-grey.
• Instead of smooth and velvety, this one was grainy, almost crunchy. And that’s before I got to the crust.
• Instead of a pleasant blend of sour and sweet, this one was lip-puckeringly limey, with an intriguing aftertaste of ghee. Lots of ghee.

I immediately ordered another.

Wife yanked me away.

(Click here to read the whole post)

Once every so often, I decide to see Mumbai from the eyes of a tourist rather than a citizen. Saturday was one such day. I kind of combined the day at the festival with a visit to art galleries and the museums in the vicinity. I shot a lot of pictures - but a vanished USB cord means that i have to wait a couple of days before uploading.

I got to KGF bright and early - by 11.30. The festival was just about coming awake. The scheduled chidren’s Bollywood dance at the amphitheatre (11.30) was possibly rescheduled. Parents with children, making full use of the weekend were begining their day at the KGF. An instant attraction -an instant click point was the giant lemon & chillis warding off evil. And of course a lot of people were fascinated by the giant black and gold lemon exhibits. The helirickshaw - replete with a cracking music system - was the other ‘tourist’ attraction!

The stalls were slowly begining to buzz with both exhibits and customers. But, unlike previous years - this one had more stalls, but they were very run of the mill. The stall that had most customers was the one that had the most ‘made in China’ stuff. I don’t have anything against “made in China” products, but it may have been better if these were handicrafts from NGO’s in China rather than the mass produced stuff that they had. There was a stall from Ranthambore that was selling traditional crafts that were very interesting. As usual the large book sale - which took up around 3 stalls was the one with the most crowds, and possibly the most sales.

Food was a huge disappointment. Unlike the previous years where there was a variety of street cuisine available - this time around there was over priced, over oily and run of the mill stuff from the biggies that inhabit the area. The food outside the KG festival circuit - where you could get mouth watering ragda pattice and spicy bhel was more interesting than the stuff available.

As far as the street performances were concerned, we caught a nice bit of ‘tamasha’ by a couple and their two children. The man was the circus master. The woman the main acrobat, adn the kids were the filler material. As the kids jumped through a hoop of fire, or the woman walked on a tightrope (actually a metal braided wire) - the gasp from the audience was palpable. I was actually expecting one of the NGO’s that had stalls around, to come and stop the performance on grounds of child endangerment, but nothing of that sort happened. The lady afterwards told me to send her the photograph. First i have to find the USB cord!

Finally, I tottered across to NGMA to catch the Oddissi workshop by Ileana Citarista. She was tutoring a bunch of teenagers (seemed like teenagers) on upper body movement. She was fluid, graceful, and each of gestures carried power. I tottered out feeling like a clumsy sack.

I also caught the Bombay Bonanza exhibition at the Museum - not really part of the KGF but could just as well be part of it. A lovely visual history of Mumbai and how she evolved.

Hopefully next year there will be more street in the street festival!

Meet Nandini. She lives somewhere around this area. She is not very sure where. She can’t tell me anything more about herself and her family. But she knows one thing for sure - she likes pani puri. She has no idea what it is called; will she have dhokla? nahi. khandvi? nahi; she quickly dismissed these foolish offers I make in the assumption that the kid would like the less spicy things on offer. Yeh nahi, woh gol gol jo hota hai - her little fingers making whirring circles in the air… oh, the round things? realization dawns as I point to the kachori. She directs a withering look at me (how dumb can you get?, it says in loud tones and I duly wither), gives up attempts to explain and instead leads me confidently to the stall, her little hands in mine. She takes ages to eat the first puri - the tiny mouth can open only so big. So the panipuriwala fill the other puris, piles them up in a leaf cup and she takes them away to a corner by the tree to eat them in peace.

It is not like Nandini is taking liberties with a stranger. We know each other from last year’s KGAF, you see. In fact, she was featured on this blog quite prominently a couple of times last year, the little admirer who seated herself on the first row of whatever performance happened to be on at the rampart row stage. I did not know her name then, Nandini was small and shy and refused to speak to me, just a shy smile and reluctant pose for me every time we met. From coy side glances to withering looks in a year is a long way to travel.

I found her on the first evening of the festival among the bunch of kids lighting candles on the road as part of the street display by an NGO. She waved to me and posed with her candle, dropping it suddenly when the wax melted and flowed down her hands. Ouch. And my heart melted with it. Therefore the panipuri.

I am a sucker for kids (others’ kids, i.e. - those who can be sent back to their parents), my camera likes them a little more than I do. And kids sense that and pretend to like me so I take lots of pictures of them. Like this one (also featured earlier on this blog this year) - he was playing with other kids inside the helikoptook, he took one look at my camera and went pose pose pose, now sitting, now lying down, steady modelly smiles plastered on his face.

[click for larger size]

And then the unposed pictures… often the most interesting of them all…

When will the darned dance begin?

rang diya basanti and now I can’t get it off

And that is what I love about the Kala Ghoda Festival. Kids roaming around freely, loudly laughing at some of the sillier street installations (how I would like to do that!), peskily demanding kulfi and comic books, getting in everyone’s way and generally having a blast. I like to see them get bite-sized doses of culture watching classical dance performances, I like it when they get messy at the pottery and coloring workshops, when they listen to stories and watch people on stage wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Above all, I love the amount of work my camera gets at Kala Ghoda with the kids…

Bright golden sequinned suits, colorful little saris wrapped fisherwoman style, spotless white kurta pyjamas soon to remain not-so-spotless, tiny birdies wearing pink, yellow and blue birdie dresses. The dance organized by NGOs with kids performing to Bollywood numbers on Sunday morning was easily the event I loved best among those I caught over the weekend. Crowds clapping and cheering, the kids on stage having a blast, their bright smiles outshining the miidday sun high above, spectators, among them some kids who were waiting for their turn to perform on stage watching open-mouthed, the NGO volunteers notepad in hand, steering the kids to the right place at the right time…

The show which went on for over an hour had these little kids dancing to popular Bollywood numbers starting with suno gaur se duniya walon. The kids came on stage, danced the way to an encore, followed by dus bahane and rang de basanti and more.

It is obvious that nothing captivates the attention of the audience as Bollywood - people stood in front of the stage trhough the performance and clapped themselves hoarse. The earlier evening at Horniman Gaden, just before Sonal Mansingh’s performance was to begin, a cop on duty came up to me (I was of course, standing row 1-plus, camera in hand) and asked me, ab kya honey wala hai? koi sonal woh naachne ali hai kya? (what’s up? is some sonal to dance now?) And that morning, before this dance, I walked into the museum gallery looking for the Jayateerth Mevundi concert - I had been waiting near the ampitheatre by mistake. Seeing the small room almost full, I asked a mother-son duo sitting at the back, is this the JM concert? Son ignored me and continued to paly with his mobile while Mother gave me a blank look and said - I don’t know - we are just sitting here because something is going to happen, so many people here. But Bollywood, never a vague “something is going to happen” - familiar, popular - you can never go wrong with Bollywood.

Dus bahane karke le gaya dil

The last perormance was the everpopular birdie dance - the stage a riot of colors, little birdies wriggling and jumping, sometimes performing with complete confidence, sometimes taking sneak peaks at each other in confusion - what is the next step now?

the birdie dance

a quick pose in the middle of dance

Tibetans believe you dance to eliminate negativity, to cut through the ego and to bring in auspicious circumstances. Hence, I could think of no better way to start my escapades at the Kala Ghoda Art festival than to watch the cries of Snow Lions. The Snow lion is a blundering beast in cheerful white demeanour that symbolizes the fearless and elegant quality of the enlightened mind. When a healthy and harmonious environment is established by the creative activities of human beings, such as through the performance of sacred purification and healing music, all living beings, here represented by the snow lion, rejoice. Rejoice we did as the snow lions with big golden eyes and large masses of yak like fur paraded through Rampart Row to the beat of a Tibetan drum much to delight of the children watching.

The festivities moved to the Amphitheatre. Seven dancers paraded before us : four in red and three in black and white. The dance itself was a blend of lumbering grace- the dancers hopped on one leg with the other raised in a flexed foot, with turns added to the hops. Drums rang on, marked with more acrobatics arm swoops and torso rotating as well as frou frou of skirts as the women swirled to the enchanting sounds of Tibet. The next three dancers with porcelain faces and ornately brocaded costumes were identified with the visualizations of common men, each dancer danced with a light spring, shifting weight, hopping in half turns. To say the dancers looked like magical beings would not have been inaccurate. The dance ended with a grand finale and the dancers exited to the sound of applause from the crowds. A brief pause before we were yet again graced by a pair of Snow Lions on the stage to end what was a memorable piece of Tibet at Kala Ghoda.

This is why I have come to love this festival so much, it seems to transport to you other places and times, a window to many forms of art and culture and all in your very own city.