Friday, November 6, 2009

dhakuria lakes



My mother was a great swimmer in her youth. She won many races and trophies of which she is still very proud. Sylvia phoned me yesterday at 6.30 am and we talked for some time about Calcutta.

She told me that she, her sister Pam and her cousin Rita, used to go for midnight dips at Dhakuria Lakes.

I walked there again this morning.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

australia wins by 3 runs


Well to be honest, I'm not a cricket fan or at least I thought I wasn't.

Abhijit, Kaushik and I went to an exhibition opening at Akar Prakar Gallery (my newly discovered neighbours). It was a kind of tribute show for the highly respected Bengali artist, Paritosh Sen, who passed away earlier this year. Firstly, Akar Prakar is a great space. It has an open outdoor courtyard and a covered colonnade around two walls where some of Sen's works, self-portraits, were hung. The two small galleries inside were filled with portraits of Sen, by artists from the Kolkata art community. It was obvious that Sen was remembered with much love and humour.

My Akar Prakar neighbours are regular patrons of Azad Hind Dhaba ... my local favourite, so Abhijit Lath invited some of us there for some food. It's very cosy, I think there are only about 8 tables. We were under the TV screen with the entire staff and several passers-by at the other end of the room glued ... it was India batting, 298 - 4 needing 60 runs. Australia 300 and something.

Over the course of our dhal, chicken bartha, mutton dopiaza and roti, we watched Tendulkar hit these majestic arcs out into the spectators until it was just 5 runs with 3 balls, 9 wickets. Then the last guy got stumped, it was over and out and Ponting had a smug look on his face which is why I don't like cricket. And because I was once on a flight from Sydney to London that unfortunately was also taking the Australian Cricket team (circa 1983) to the UK. It wasn't that flight where David Boone allegedly drank 50 + cans of beer and broke all air travel-related beer consumption records but I think whoever was on that team and that flight came close.

I wished India had won.

I had my first taste of paan after dinner. It's an amazing combination of aromatic, sweet, bitter, chewy and momentarily mouth numbing with a wonderful fresh aftertaste.

The first thing I saw this morning ... a man riding a motorcycle, his daughter on the back in her school uniform. She is holding on to him by his earlobes.

And the last thing tonight ... a cow walking down the street but not the regular white cow you see in India. Abhijit said it was one of those new jersey cows.



Wednesday, November 4, 2009

mandirtala


When I met Achintya Bhattarcharjee last week, he was wearing an orange and black striped shirt. Abhijit has arranged for me to work with him on constructing the tigers for my project. He's an artist who is currently doing an MA at Rabindra Bharati University as well as being a traditional idol maker from Mandirtala, on the Howrah side of the city. Mandirtala is just over the second Howrah Bridge and from Khoj is about 15 minutes on a clear run, 30-40 in rush hour. That side of the river is at least 100 years older than Kolkata, and is very different ... more like an urban village.

I visited Achintya's studio on Sunday. We met at the bus stand and then we headed down a narrow street towards his house. There are some stalls at the start of his lane. A man selling chickens, a wire cage with about 50 chickens sit below his table. On top are freshly slaughtered and plucked birds. Next to the table a dog sat dozing with a delicate beard of white feathers.

Achintya's studio looks out over a pond, surrounded by houses, with the odd small shop and local business. The path that runs around the pond can take a bike or a small cart but its mostly pedestrian traffic.

I'm envious of his studio, it's perfect for sculpture. Earth floor, two large doors opening outwards, good light. On one side, his shelves are stacked high with plaster moulds for various features and components of the gods, goddesses and deities he makes during the puja festival season. Achintya told me that the work commences in July and runs right through to November, ending with Jagadharti Puja which was last week.

His sister and brother-in-law live in the house next door and they treated me to tea, rasagullas and sandesh sweets. I also met two of his nieces. They were all curious about the project, and when I went back there again this morning, Achintya told me that his brother-in-law's mother who lives there as well, has taken a special interest in the tiger's well being and visits it twice a day, morning and night.

Tiger photos to follow.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Monday, November 2, 2009

khira, nimbu, piyaj, dhaniya



Lake Market evening stroll
sabzi = Rp/- 75
phul = Rp/- 50
shot of tea Rp/- 2

Lake View Road =
ironing service;
street corner card game with the same players that were there on Saturday;
Motiul and Nafisa's wedding.

the gift



My father was the eldest of four children and his family lived in Barrackpore, about 20 kms out of Calcutta. My grandfather was a race-horse trainer. When his horses won, it wasn't unusual for their owners to present him with all kinds of gifts. Sweets, fabrics, jewellery, even cars.


When my father was about seven or eight years old, they were given a tiger cub. This was in the 1920's and tiger shooting was rife. A friend of my grandfather's had been out hunting, shot a tiger and then found that she had two cubs. I've read since that it was not uncommon for the cubs to be shot as well. In this case, they were brought back to the city and domesticated. My grandfather raised the cub and it became his constant companion around the house. My father told me that he and his brothers would ride their bicycles to school every day and they would return around the same time. The tiger had an afternoon ritual where it would wait in ambush in the long grass near the gates, and as they raced in towards the house, it would pounce and knock one of them off their bike to wrestle and play.


When the tiger was around two years old, it became clear that a domestic home, even with large gardens, was not the place to keep this creature. It would certainly have been an intimidating size. My grandfather had been getting complaints from various people, and finally decided that the tiger could not stay there. He donated the tiger to the Calcutta Zoological Gardens in Alipore. My father said that my grandfather would go to the Zoo at the same time every day and that the tiger would call out to greet him.


As a a child, I insisted my father tell me this story over and over repeatedly. It seemed so incredulous to me that anyone could own a tiger as you would a dog or cat. I always felt so sad and worried for this tiger's fate. Taken from it's dead mother, deposited in a family home where it lived only with relative freedom for two years, and finally imprisoned in a concrete cage for the remainder of its life in a zoo.


In 2007, I met with the Assistant Director of Alipore Zoo with the hope of finding some shred of information about this tiger. He told me that most of the records held in the Zoo were lost around World War II, and that during this time, the animals were evacuated to private estates outside of the city. I'm not even sure what I was looking for. Its name perhaps, or how long it lived. Last week, I did in fact find some references to Zoological Reports held at the National Library from this period. I may discover something yet.


This is one of the threads to my project, and although I'm not making a narrative work about this tiger, it has certainly been in the background of much of my thinking. There is also something very tangible about being here in Calcutta that makes another strange kind of connection. Visiting the zoo, seeing those tigers living in perhaps the very same cages that my grandfather's one lived. I am aware that this now is a different time, a different place and that what I am looking for no longer exists. It is simply another fiction. I suppose I just want some trace of that history, some physical evidence, even just a word.




Sunday, November 1, 2009

witches hats and tuberoses


I have fallen into the lap of south Kolkatan life, and every day presents another adventure.

Last night there was an exhibition opening at the Birla Academy of Fine Arts 'Astonishment of Being'. It's curated by Deksha Nath and includes artists mostly from Mumbai and Delhi. No wine and cheese here ... the refreshments were delicious papri chat and sweet tea. The work is interesting, a mix of video, painting, photography, installation by 20 or so artists. I'll go back during the week for a longer look, it's just around the corner from Khoj.

Archana Hande, who will also be in Paula's show next year, has a wry installation included that was made during one of the first Khoj Kolkata residencies at Baruipur. I'll see if I can find a link for it.

I went to visit my tiger maker this morning, but more on that in due course.

This afternoon I'm meeting Tamal, another Khoj member, at the Lake Market for an introduction to his vegie man, his flower man and his tea stall. I went there yesterday in search of supplies, and after some truly hopeless Hindi, came home with six eggs (21 rupees), two custard apples and a papaya (55 rupees), some bananas (20 rupees) and a beautiful bunch of tuberoses. Tamal will give me the lowdown on who to go to for what. I can't wait.