Contemporary Kathak

Recently, I've been to two Kathak performances --- one by the Aditi Mangaldas Dance Company, and the other by Isabelle Anna along with Quincy Charles, Aurélie Oudiette, and Hélène Marionneau; and I wasn't entirely certain of what to make of them.

I don't believe that the performing arts should ever be allowed to stagnate, neither do I believe that incorporating new elements into traditional forms of art is necessarily a bad thing to have happen. My feelings towards these two performances were, nonetheless, rather ambivalent.

The idea behind Aditi Mangaldas' Now Is seemed very interesting but I couldn't really understand how the dance portrayed what the write-up said the theme of the programme was :

A simultaneous dialogue between the three art forms of painting, music, and dance that explores the timeless present and is built around the central question: Can one live creatively, live in the 'Now'? The present carries within it burdens of the past as well as the fantasies of the future. Can these links be broken, so that a timeless moment is born? The philosopher J.Krishnamurti held out an invitation 'of living in time, timelessly, without the past and the future mingling on the moment.' Now Is explores the theme, "In the NOW is all time, and to understand the now is to be free of time."

The programme incorporated the images of the paintings of the German artist Siegward Sprotte for reasons that were extremely unclear to me. That being said, although I can't claim to have understood the programme, I enjoyed the performance very much. It was well choreographed, and the music was beautiful.

The second programme though was different. It was interesting and had moments of brilliance, but at places, it seemed, to me, to be an exposition of why neither fusion nor "living tradition" should be extolled. I enjoyed the first piece in the programme --- it was a "duet" in which the Kathak steps bore clear impressions of influences from the West. Later on in the programme though, the dancer interpreted Ravel's Bolero. The usual "muted" drumming in the background was changed to an overwhelming beat provided by a Tabla, and the result was that neither Kathak nor Post-Impressionist music were portrayed in the best possible light.

I am not sure what makes contemporary interpretations of traditional art forms "good", and watching these two experiments certainly hasn't made the answer to that question any clearer to me.

The Area Around Humayun's Tomb

One of the first things which one notices about Delhi is that it’s full of monuments (or what could be monuments) but that hardly anyone knows what they are. This roundabout is on the way to Humayun’s Tomb, one of Delhi’s three much touted heritage sites: the others being Ferozshah Kotla and the Qutb Minar. Nonetheless, despite being just some 500 m away, all most people know is that it’s called Subz Burz and that it lies on the Grand Trunk Road.

The area where the tomb stands is full of old structures. I was told when I first asked for directions that it’s in a very Muslim area of town – not information I had asked for and, as it turned out, information which was irrelevant.

There are several tombs in the compound where Humayun’s Tomb is situated. When one first enters it, one sees the entrance to Isa Khan’s Tomb Enclosure to the right and Bu Halima’s straight ahead.

The Compound

Isa Khan’s Tomb Enclosure

Isa Khan’s Tomb dates back to 1547 AD and includes both a mosque and a tomb. The man himself, according to a notice outside the structure, was a nobleman in the court of Sher Shah Sur and both the tomb and the mosque were built during his lifetime. Amazingly, apparently an entire village lived within the enclosure till the early 20th century. It’s a little difficult to imagine how a whole village could have fit into such a space – even if one doesn’t walk too fast it’d be unlikely to take more than three or four minutes to walk from one end to the other.

Even though the tomb pre-dates that of Humayun by only twenty years, the two are hardly comparable. Isa Khan’s tomb is very beautiful -- and if one has the stomach for it, one can climb up both the tomb itself as well as the mosque -- but in terms of sheer grandeur, it does not even begin to compare to Humayun’s.

If one walks along the walls of the enclosure, one can see what appears to be a graveyard just outside the walls of the enclosure. However, it isn’t possible to get to it from the tomb itself since it lies outside the walls of the compound. No guidebook I’ve seen thus far mentions the graveyard.

Bu Halima’s’s Enclosure

This is another tomb of which precious little is known. It's the first thing one sees when one enters the compound: a gateway to Bu Halima’s tomb. It’s a large whitish structure and inside, the gateway feels a little like a doll’s house. No one really knows who Bu Halima was; all that is known is that the tomb belongs to the 16th century and, according to the information provided by the ASI, its western wall was breached in the 19th century to allow access to visitors.

Arab Serai

Once one goes through the Gateway to Bu Halima’s tomb enclosure, one sees two more gates: one is one of the Western Gate to Humayun's Tomb and the other is the Arab Serai Gate which is pretty breathtaking in itself. It is some fourteen metres high and once led to a walled enclosure where the Persian craftsmen who were involved in building Humayun’s tomb lived. It’s is built of red sandstone, Delhi quartzite stone and is inlaid with marble. There are also remnants of glazed ceramic tiles visible on it.

Afsarwala Tomb and Mosque

The Afsarwala Tomb and Mosque can be reached through the Arab Serai or through another entrance: once one steps through the Arab Serai Gate, one winds up in an empty courtyard with the back of the tomb and mosque to one’s left. They are believed to have been built in 1566 AD but no one knows whose tomb it is – all that the name denotes is that it belongs to a man who was an officer. The mosque is still in use and once, when I went there, prayers had just finished, and the prayer mats were being loaded on to a cycle to be taken somewhere.

The Western Gate

The Western Gate is now the main entrance to the Tomb of Humayun. It is some sixteen metres high and has rooms on either side. It is adorned with six-sided stars which the Mughals used as ornamental cosmic symbols. Inside the gate, there is a small bookshop with sells postcards and books about Delhi’s monuments.

Humayun’s Tomb

Once one goes through the Western Gate, one is confronted with Humayun’s Tomb which is truly breathtaking. There is absolutely no dearth of tourists and there are also groups of schoolchildren. Personally, I’ve found that most school trips involve dragging children along to see monuments (and museums) they are not especially interested in which means that they don’t spend their time looking at anything. Instead they spend their time dashing around shouting at the top of their voices which is not generally conducive to allowing anyone else to be able to enjoy or appreciate whatever they’re looking at.

The tomb itself is large though – it apparently contains the bodies of some one hundred and twenty Mughals and is surrounded by a large garden. It is believed to have been built by Humayun’s wife after his death (in Purana Qila). And the style of the tomb inspired the designs of many later tombs including the Taj Mahal.

Most tourists don’t really explore the gardens which means that it is entirely possible to find a spot in the gardens where one is alone. Even within the structure of the tomb, there are places where one can simply walk around quietly absorbing the atmosphere of the place.

Baber’s Tomb

There is another tomb behind that of Humayun’s which is said to be that of Barber. It’s made of red sandstone and contains two ornamental cenotaphs of one woman and one man. It isn’t certain whose tomb it is though. The structure itself is far less impressive than Humayun’s tomb but since very few visitors actually make their way to it, it is very peaceful.

Nila Gumbad

Just outside the compund is a small structure with a beautiful blue dome. It can be seen from inside the compund and, unfortunately, there really isn't too much to it beyond what can be seen from such a distance. It can be reached by going around the compund, but if one were to do that, one would discover that it's rather decrepit; it's a disappointment. Personally, I was much happier before I figured out how to get to it: it was earlier nothing but a mysterious, beautiful blue dome.

Plant Nursery

There's a nursery opposite the Tomb compound in which there's a structure which is certainly very old but of indeterminate nature. There's a board which says that it's a protected structure but unfortunately, when the Archaeological Survey of India puts up such boards, it usually doesn't say why the structure is protected or what in earth it actually is.Although the structure doesn't now look especially imposing, it interests me bacause the inside of the dome seems have had a lot of work put into it -- far more than what one would expect in an entirely functional building.

An Inner Fury

Most Indian writing in English isn’t very good. perhaps because you can actually see the author thinking in some other language before he translates what he has to say into English.
However, I’ve begun to wonder whether there was a time when English educational policies in India did create a class of people now no longer in existence who had the ability to think in English and who did in face write amazingly well in the language.
I’ve just finished reading a book called ‘Some Inner Fury’ by Kamala Markandaya which was first published by Putnam in 1955. It’s a love story just as much as ‘Wuthering Heights’ is one. Set in the early 1940s in India, it tells the story of a rich, cultivated Hindu family whose Oxford-returned, sophisticated, son, Kitsamy, joins the civil service and whose other (adopted) son, Govind, joins the freedom struggle. It tells of the difficulties of the former’s traditional wife, Premala, in trying the please her husband. and it speaks of the love which develops between the daughter of the house, Mirabai, with one of Kit’s friends, Richard who becomes the ADC the Governor. Love each other as much as they may, the two ultimately find themselves torn apart by the struggle for independence; on opposite sides of the fence by default. Their relationship does not survive.
The book is an interesting study of India at a time of political upheaval even though it is very limited in its scope. Possibly, the family the author describes is one which belongs to her own class. The prose is understated and very elegant. And at times, heart wrenching.

The Lives of Anglo-Indians in India

Queenie by Michael Korda is the story of an Anglo-Indian girl who became a film star and moved to the West. While the story, which begins during the last days of the Raj, is clearly about one woman, and her struggle to make 'it', it also contains fascinating insights into the lives of Anglo-Indians in India, in general.

If the book is to be believed:

The Anglo-Indian community, being a 'people' who were neither completely Indian nor completely English, they were despised by both the Indians and the English. The 'Heaven sent' ICS officers did not, towards the end of the Raj, mingle with Indians, and they didn't live with Indian women. It was only Englishmen who did such things as work in the Railways who had children with Indian women.

The Anglo-Indians had their own special brand of English: the words were English, the inflection Indian. The result was that they sang the language rather than speak it.

Women who were fair might have been able to marry an Englishman and go Home to England -- India was apparently not Home. But there seemed to be little hope for women who were not fair, or for men. And their facial structures, which might have passed as being Welsh at Home, distinguished them as 'wogs' in India.

The English called the Anglo-Indians chee chee, the Anglo-Indians called the Indians wogs. And the all-consuming ambition of an Anglo-Indian was to go Home. The result was that any white man could appear and marry a woman; it didn't matter if he was worth nothing, all that mattered was that he was a pukka sahib.

--

After Independence, the Anglo-Indian community was granted a two percent reservation in the Lok Sabha, and although that's always puzzled me, I'd no idea of what life for an Anglo-Indian person would have been like during the fag end of the Raj.

A Thousand Splendid Suns

Lying on the table next to me is a book --- Khaled Hosseini’s A Thousand Splendid Suns. I’ve been trying to read it for over a fortnight now, and for someone who regularly reads a few hundred pages a day, it is unusual for a book to be left unfinished for so long.

It’s impossible to say that it’s unreadable because the author doesn’t write well, or that the subjects he deals with are uninteresting. The problem for me is that he doesn’t speak of anything which I want to read about.

I’ve read fifteen chapters so far – not a number which means much considering that every chapter is but a few pages long. However, in every chapter, I see nothing which is alien to many women’s everyday lives. Nothing which one wouldn’t hear about while chatting with one’s friends. Nothing which one wouldn’t read about on the crime pages of newspapers. Or sometimes in the Features pages which speak endlessly about The Evils of Society.

Somehow, the content of the book is simply not what I want to read about in a novel. Real life, it seems to me, has more than enough sadness of the kind depicted in the book, and I’m not sure I need to read about a non-existent woman’s fictional life to begin to develop an appreciation for the sadness inherent in the lives of women such as her, and those unlike her.