Is it possible to conjure magic out of paper? Well, as writers use the power of words to make us believe in the existence of magic, then Ahmedabad-based Parth Kothekar uses paper as a medium to create works of art that unassumingly boast of unparalleled precision that seems almost magical.

Parth’s studio, Papercut, is bound to leave you mesmerised. Using only pencils for sketching and surgical scalpels to carve, the 27-year-old artist breathes life into sheets of paper by transforming them into beautiful paper cut art.

Feathers, sari-clad mermaids, floral vines, trees, dragonflies, paisley designs and life-size portraits of men with man buns and even Game of Thrones characters with an Indian twist—Parth enchants these oft-used subjects to take on an ethereal appeal when he casts them in Paper.

Paper is no easy medium to work on; however, the effortless way Parth translates intricacy and detail into each of his work prove otherwise.

As an art, Paper cutting is not new. We have all tried our hands at it during our school days. While some managed to excel with the virtue of their creative hands, most of us ended up with disfigured pieces of paper and of course, paper cuts.

Fun Fact: Did you know that the art form first made an appearance as early as in the 4th century AD, during the Han Dynasty in China? Roughly three centuries after the Chinese invented paper.

We caught up with Parth to find out what started this unusual love affair with paper.

“It all started with an experiment. I wanted to prove my capabilities as an artist on a larger scale, and I decided to go ahead with graffiti. While I was making stencils for the same, I stumbled upon paper cut art, and that engrossed me. If you think about it, stencils are just the inverse of paper cut. So I began experimenting more and more, and before I knew, paper cut art was something I wanted to pursue not as a hobby but as a serious profession,” says Parth to The Better India.

Right from childhood, Parth held an inclination toward art and design which led him to study animation after completing school education.

“Because I was keen on designing, I thought studying animation would be the best option and even joined an undergraduate course. As I started working with software, I realised that I preferred two-dimensional animation better and more importantly, sketching. I left the course and devoted my entire time to hone my sketching skills full time,” Parth recalls.

That was in 2012, and paper cut art came shortly after. His first-ever solo exhibition featured 84 artworks that Parth had created during the year 2013.

“The response had been overwhelming perhaps because such an art form was new to everyone. I got many compliments and was featured by local newspapers. After that, I started travelling across India not just to exhibit my works but also to reach out to an audience that would also understand my handiwork,” Parth says.

Following the positive reception to his prowess, Parth got an opportunity to exhibit his work in Wellington, New Zealand.

“That was an eye-opening experience for me. Everyone knew about this art form there, and I got stupendous reception for my work and themes, instead of just getting attention for cutting technique and intricacies of artwork. This was in complete contrast with the reception I got here, as I later comprehended that the Indian crowd was not much oriented with this kind of medium. Hence, people give more attention to understand the technique when they come across such an art form. The artist’s expression just gets lost in translation,” he explains.

So what inspires him, we ask? Personal life, day-to-day things and sometimes, anything that catches his fancy comes the reply.

“Anything that catches my attention, I work it out and then try to develop it into series of work. Once I’m sure about the concept, I get to the sketching part. I normally work on 20 to 25 sketches for every concept, out of which, I select 8 to 10 artworks that finally get converted into paper cuts,” he says.

Regarding concepts and works that challenged him, Parth talks about two projects that are quite close to his heart.

“There was a collaboration with Tanishq, where I made a layered paper cut work as part of their visual merchandising. It was challenging as this work had to appear three-dimensional! Also, I’d pushed myself to design dome-shaped structures using paper cut for a Dubai-based events design company,” he adds.

Today, Parth has people buying his beautiful artworks from across the world through his Etsy handle. He works on customised orders too. But to reach where he has today, Parth had been through a fair share of struggles.

“This art form was relatively new to India when I’d first displayed my work in 2013. Like I mentioned earlier, I started travelling and exhibiting my works across the country to make paper cut more recognised. But to fund all of that, I’d to pawn my bike about six times and even sold my phone. By the end of it, I was in debt. While everyone kept appreciating my work, no one was buying it. People often asked me as to what should they do with my artwork,” Parth remembers.

After a year, he decided to pursue paper cut art as a profession and started working from his studio, Papercut.

Shortly after, he launched his Etsy store, and there has been no looking back. Taking anywhere between two to 20 days, the smallest piece that Parth has created is a one-centimetre jewellery piece, while the largest is a 40×35 inch portrait. He uses a magnifying glass while working on smaller pieces

As for future plans, Parth says, he doesn’t know. “I’m always challenging myself with new concepts. Besides that, I’m also experimenting with many new materials. So, I’m excited myself and waiting to see what comes along my way next!” he concludes.

You may also like: This Mumbai-Based Husband-Wife Artist Duo Create Masterpieces out of Paper & Light

With extraordinary skill and an eye for detail to match, we’re sure an artistic genius like Parth has a successful career ahead and we wish him luck.

You can look up his work on Facebook and if you want to make a purchase, then check out his store at Etsy.

(Edited by Saiqua Sultan)

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On August 15, 1988, after the then Prime Minister, Rajiv Gandhi, finished his address to the nation from the Red Fort, a soulful melody took the nation by storm.

For most Indians who watched the broadcast on Doordarshan, the opening lines of Mile Sur Mera Tumhara, belted out by the legendary Hindustani classical vocalist Pandit Bhimsen Joshi continue to stand the test of time.

And even now, three decades later, when one plays the grainy video of this musical tribute on Youtube, it invokes the same spirit of pride in the culture and heritage of our country, as it did for those in 1988.

Here are some incredible facts about how the inception of the 6-minute song came about and why it continues to resound in the heart of every Indian as an unofficial anthem:

The origin of the song

The idea originated from a conversation between the former PM and his friend, Jaideep Samarth.

Samarth, who was also a Senior Executive at the advertising behemoth Ogilvy Benson & Mather (now O&M), decided to approach the national creative head of the company-Suresh Mullick, about the project.

Mullick got top ad film-producer Kailash Surendranath on-board and the duo set the wheels rolling after a meeting with Pandit Bhimsen Joshi.

In an interview with Sandeep Goyal for Campaign India, Kailash added that when he and Mullick met Pandit Bhimsen Joshi for the project, the musical legend got back within a matter of a few days.

He had composed almost 45 minutes of music based on Raag Bhairavi.

“It was a soul-stirring composition and I had the difficult task of snipping it down to a mere 30 seconds. It became the core of the composition which was then passed on to other composers for music in different languages.”

The song, apart from Hindi, was sung in languages from different parts of India including Assamese, Bengali, Gujarati, Kannada, Kashmiri, Malayalam, Marathi, Marwari, Odia, Punjabi, Sindhi, Tamil, Telugu, and Urdu.

The lyrics of the song were to be penned by Pandit Vinod Sharma. But a young account manager at Ogilvy, Piyush Pandey, who was asked to be in touch with Sharma, wrote the lyrics himself when he noticed a lag in the process.  It took 18 drafts, before the final version made the cut!

Penning ‘Mile Sur Mera Tumhara,’ opened up avenues for Pandey who steadily climbed the popularity charts. Conferred the Padma Shri in 2016, he now serves as the Executive Chairman and Creative Director of Ogilvy South Asia.

The six-minute video featured top personalities from different fields.

Actors Kamal Haasan, Revathi, Amitabh Bachchan, Mithun Chakraborty, Jeetendra, Waheeda Rehman, Hema Malini, Tanuja, Sharmila Tagore, Shabana Azmi, Deepa Sahi, Om Puri, Dina Pathak, and Meenakshi Seshadri graced the screen.

It also featured Indian classical dancer Mallika Sarabhai, cartoonist Mario Miranda, filmmaker Mrinal Sen and authors Sunil Gangopadhyay and Annadashankar Ray.

Musicians and vocalists who became a part of the project included Bhimsen Joshi, M Balamuralikrishna, Lata Mangeshkar, Suchitra Mitra, and Kavitha Krishnamurthy. Last but certainly not the least, sportspersons Narendra Hirwani, S Venkataraghavan, Prakash Padukone, Ramanathan Krishnan, Arun Lal, PK Banerjee, Chuni Goswami, Syed Kirmani, Leslie Claudius and Gurbux Singh appeared in the video too.

You May Also Like: #IconsOfIndia: An Unforgettable Typewriter That Became A Symbol of Modern India

Mile Sur Mera Tumhaara also made a mark for its stark and appealing visual representation.

Kailash Surendranath, who had already carved a name for himself in the ad business with exceptional commercials like Liril and Wah Taj, added a golden feather to his hat with ‘Mile Sur Mera Tumhara.’

In the same interview with Goyal, he recalls how Kamal Haasan’s cameo in the video was completely unplanned. When the ad film producer met Carnatic vocalist and musician M Balamuralikrishna, (who sang the Tamil part in the song), he was shocked to see Kamal Haasan with him. The star from the South told Kailash how he was only accompanying his ‘guru’ to the shoot.

When asked about being featured in the video, Haasan humbly added that he wanted to only sit as a chela, listening in rapt attention to the legend. He didn’t want to hog the limelight in the video.

Kailash praises yesteryear A-listers Amitabh Bachchan, Jeetendra and Mithun for their cooperation, humility and professionalism too.

When Doordarshan had written to these biggies to be a part of the video, they not only responded but also reached Mehboob Studios on time, with their own wardrobe. They shared the same screen for the song and completed the shot within five minutes!

The legend of the Liril Falls

The opening scene of the song shows Pandit Bhimsen singing near a waterfall. For those of you intrigued about the location of the shot—it was the same waterfall where the Liril commercial was recorded. This is the Pambar Falls in Kodaikanal, popular as the Liril Falls.

Getting Lata Mangeshkar on board

While Kavitha Krishnamurthy lent her voice for the female actors in the song, Kailash and team were eager to have Indian playback singer and music director, Lata Mangeshkar sing too.

The veteran singer was on the road and the possibilities of a collaboration were slim due to her hectic schedule. But she was gracious to come back to Mumbai just in time, three days before the song was to go live.

“She arrived at the studio in her Indian flag-pallu white saree. I shot and recorded her in the studio in that dress and that is what you see in the film,” says Kailash.

An IAF helicopter was used for the aerial shot of Taj Mahal

This is perhaps one of the most hilarious anecdotes from the shoot. When the makers wanted to get an aerial shot of the Taj Mahal, there faced a crisis. According to protocol, no plane was allowed in such close vicinity to the historical monument.

Kailash flew to Agra to meet the Air Marshal who allowed him to take the aerial shot from an IAF helicopter, free of cost. Sadly, the officer got into hot water for this. Kailash helped him out of the problem by paying for the ride.

Also Read: Binaca, the Iconic Toothpaste That Lives On Through India’s Most Loved Radio Show

The jumbo stars and the mahout who was the actual singer

Literally, the ‘biggest’ highlight of the video were the elephants in the film, who were shot in Periyar National Park. The mahout in the film was also the actual singer who sang the Malayalam part of the song.

Railway fans! Did you know that two iconic trains made a cameo in the film too?

On Suresh Mullick insistence, the film also shot the then newly-inaugurated Calcutta metro, the first Indian transit system of its kind. The film also shows the much-loved Deccan Queen chugging along a river.

Phir Mile Sur

Two decades after its debut, the song was re-recorded for telecast on January 26, 2010 by Zoom TV. The new version Phir Mile Sur Mera Tumhara featured a newer generation of Indian musicians, singers, sportspersons and film personalities and was 16 min 17 sec long! It was directed by Kailash Surendranath himself with the new version retaining the original music composer Louis Banks.

Watch this version below!

Did the music make you nostalgic too? Don’t forget to tell us about your favourite memories in the comments!

(Edited by Saiqua Sultan)

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As one walks along the green roads, click and whoosh sounds grow louder. One can smell the yarn, the dye and the new cloth. Suddenly, the synagogue, the church, the temple and the mosque spread in a 10 sq km area appear happy.

Five months ago, our small town looked very different,” begins Sojan P A, secretary, Chendamangalam’s Kaithiri Neythu Vyavasaya Production cum sale Cooperative Society of Handloom Weavers.

Chendamangalam is a small town in Kerala’s Ernakulam district. It’s a weaver village located about 35 km from Kochi. For centuries, almost every person in the village has had a loom. They’ve all survived by weaving a beautiful, soft and highly absorbent cotton fabric that has a GI (Geographical Indication) tag today. The fabric is then used to manufacture their saris, dhotis, towels, shirts and trousers that sell like hot cakes during festivals in Kerala.

Sojan recalls the night the villagers had to run to save their lives. “We just picked up one or two things from our homes and tried to reach a higher plateau to escape the wrath of the water gushing in our village. At that time, we just couldn’t think of anything else,” he says in broken English interspersed with Malayalam.

It was unexpected. Kerala, a small state in South India, gets heavy rains annually. The abundance of rich biodiversity is due to plenty of rainfall and the reason for the common tagline for the state, ‘God’s Own Country’!

It’s known for its backwaters, canals, palm trees, mountain slopes filled with tea and spice plantations and bountiful wildlife. The Silent Valley National Park houses elephants, langurs, tigers and plenty of snakes and pythons.

So Keralites annually face heavy rains and floods, but the rains of August 2018 were different. At least 500 innocent people died, and the state incurred an overall loss of more than Rs 40,000 crore.

About 15 days after the rains subsided and the water receded, it seemed finally safe for people to return to their homes. The residents of Chendamangalam returned to a devastation they had never faced in their lives and didn’t know how to cope with.

The entire weaving community of Chendamagalam has five weaver’s clusters and about 600 looms. It was on the verge of being wiped out as the receding flood waters left behind wet clay in the looms. There was no way they could be salvaged.

The store and showroom of one such cluster which stored the community’s fabric were flooded, making the stock of Rs 70 lakh almost worthless. A similar scene was met by all other clusters.

“After reading about the calamity of weavers in Chendamangalam, I decided to visit the place and see if I could be of any help,” recalls Shalini James, Kochi-based designer of Mantra label.

Previously, Shalini had worked with the weaver’s cluster headed by Sojan and his group of 120 looms. He knew them and their work. Along with another designer friend, Sreejith Jeevan of Rouka label, they went to the town.

But they weren’t prepared for the sight.

“The stock was not only wet but also dripping with water, the bottom was covered in wet clay and it had already started turning black due to mildew. But at the top, the fabric was wet, and we realised that it could be saved,” recalls Sreejith.

Shalini immediately bought stock worth Rs eight lakh, but realised that the two of them were not enough to help these 120 weavers. They contacted others through social media.

Another Kochi-based designer, Indu Menon of Kara Weaves label, and the fashion retailer of The Wardrobe, Tracy Thomas, stepped in. Between the four of them, and their networks, they formed a group – The Friends of Chendamangalam.

Within a week, they sold goods worth Rs 40 lakh! This was a huge relief to the villagers!

Before selling the fabric, Tracy contacted a dry-cleaner who helped clean the fabric. “As the place was still very wet, we couldn’t dry the good fabric. If we had left it, then fungus would have set in, and the resultant black stains would have been almost impossible to remove. So we had to get the fabric dry-cleaned to be saleable,” says Tracy.

Indu Menon, along with daughter Chitra Gopalakrishnan of Kara Weaves, known for their table and bath linen, sarongs, among other products, bought some of the stock. Their value addition was including small embroidered motifs of the looms to tell the story of the flood and the survival of the weavers.

In fact, at the Kochi-Muziris Biennale, at the Gallery OED in Mattancherry, garments designed by Sreejith, Shalini and Indu are on display until the end of March.

Even at The Wardrobe, Tracy has a section where these garments and linens are displayed for customers. “They are intrigued by the story behind these clothes, the elegance of the design and the comfort of the fabrics,” shares Tracy.

The four didn’t stop at saving the stock and selling it; they decided to go further and get the looms back so that the weavers could start their work. That’s when they started their second step, ‘Looms to life’.

They had evaluated that only 40 looms needed minor repair. The remaining needed to be rebuilt, which would cost Rs 40,000-45,000, each.

“This is when we tapped into the CSR activities of corporates where 114 looms were funded. Even the Kerala Government is helping them immensely,” explains Sreejith.

With the looms repaired, weavers of Chendmangalam got back on their feet. The state government also gave them bulk orders of weaving school uniforms.

This was the time for the third step.

The four ‘Friends of Chendamanagalam’ decided that it was time for the weavers to incorporate new designs and processes of weaving. For decades, they hadn’t experimented or changed their approaches.

Shalini smiles, “Most of the weavers who are older than 50, don’t like the word ‘change’. We are trying to change their mindset. The sale through social media after the floods has now opened doors for them to build a global customer base. People outside Kerala and India have recognised the beauty of these fabrics and are willing to buy them. Now it’s the turn of the weavers to produce something which would help put the Chendamanagalm cotton fabric on a buyer’s must-have list.”

Sreejith agrees that change and international recognition will also enable the emigrating younger generation to return home. He adds, “We are trying to help them learn new designs, to add small embroidered motifs or a signature feature to their products.”

Perhaps the floods were a boon for the weavers. But as the ‘Friends of Chendamangalam’ say, “Every handloom weaver’s cluster in India needs help to survive and keep the tradition of handloom weaving alive. Unfortunately, this has almost vanished from other countries. If anyone needs help in emulating our project, we are willing to step in.”

Also Read: Saris From Bananas: TN Weaver Creates 25 Natural Fibers, Wins National Record!

To get in touch with them, write to friendsofchendamangalam@gmail.com.

(Edited by Shruti Singhal)

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In a recent podcast, Javed Akhtar recited these lines from a song in the 1959 film Dhool ka Phool, directed by the legendary BR Chopra and sung by Mohammad Rafi:

Tu Hindu Banega Na Musalmaan Banega,
Insaan Ki Aulad Hai Insaan Banega

(You will not become a Hindu nor a Muslim,
A Human’s child will be a Human)

These revolutionary words, which are a reminder that before we are either Hindu or Muslim, we are human beings first, were penned by none other than Abdul Hayee, who is famously known by his pen name Sahir Ludhianvi.

Sahir was a legendary 20th century Hindi and Urdu poet-film lyricist who wasn’t afraid to question society and its many ills.

His words are as relevant as they were in 1959, because we still live in an era where communal strife remains an everyday reality, and politicians cynically foment further divisions between Hindus and Muslims to further their political objectives.

Born on March 8, 1921, into a wealthy family of zamindars in Ludhiana, Sahir’s childhood was marked by fear and trauma.

“He had a very traumatic childhood. His father was a depraved and despotic zamindar who married multiple times. Sahir’s own mother was his 12th wife,” says Akshay Manwani, the author of ‘Sahir Ludhianvi: The People’s Poet,’ speaking to The Better India.

Unable to suffer his tyranny, Sahir’s mother, Sardar Begum, left her husband and forfeited any claim to financial assets from the marriage.

In 1934, Sahir’s father remarried and sued for custody of his son. The entire exchange was acrimonious but ultimately unsuccessful.

“All these experiences were a part of his childhood. Sahir had to live with the constant fear of his father abducting him even after the court had allowed his parents to separate. Unsurprisingly, these experiences found an outlet in his poetry. His non-film poems like ‘Jaagir’ are severe indictments of the zamindar class, articulating how they exploited the oppressed classes, particularly poor farmers,” says Manwani.

Sahir’s immense talent for poetry was evident, particularly during his college days at the Government College, Ludhiana. Today, the auditorium there is named after him.

In 1943, Sahir moved to Lahore, where he wrote ‘Talkhiyaan,’ (Bitterness) his first published work in Urdu, in 1945, while working as an editor in a whole host of Urdu publications.

During this time, he also became a member of the famous Progressive Writers’ Association, which included almost every literary giant in the Indian subcontinent from Munshi Premchand to Saadat Hasan Manto.

“The Progressive Writers’ Movement (PWM) through the 1940s and 50s believed that art could not be for art’s sake alone. These writers were very determined to write about the issues that face the oppressed classes, the common man,” says Manwani.

However, his attraction to the ideals of an egalitarian society, which found an outlet in his writings got him into trouble. Following the horrors of partition, the Pakistani government issued a warrant for his arrest, and in 1949 Sahir fled to Bombay (Mumbai).

In the 1940s and 50s, the city became a haven for many poets and writers like Ismat Chugtai, Rajender Singh Bedi, Sadat Manto, Kishan Chander, Majrooh Sultanpuri and Kaifi Azmi of the PWM, who came in droves to further their craft or work in the Hindi film industry.

What their arrival did was define Indian cinema for the forthcoming decades.

“Till the 1970s, the main protagonist of any film was from the working class—rickshaw puller, tonga puller, teacher, unemployed youth, a government clerk, student, farmer and mill worker, etc. These protagonists either came from poor or middle-class communities. Meanwhile, the wealthy—moneylender, mill owner and company owners—were often cast in negative roles,” says Javed Akhtar, in the podcast mentioned above.

These were poets and writers who experienced a period of great struggle, who wrote against fascist forces both local and foreign. There was a definitive collective conscience at that time.

“Their writings espoused a hope for a better India, a better society. Writers of the PWM were not happy with the outcome of this Independence, which they believed further accentuated divisions across religious lines with partition. As legendary poet Faiz Ahmed Faiz once said, “Yeh woh sehar toh nahin” (this is not the dawn we hoped for). Their confidence in aspiring for a better tomorrow came from a collective struggle first against British fascist forces, and then class, caste, and communal forces,” says Manwani.

Sahir expressed those aspirations in the evergreen song of Pyaasa (1957)—Ye Mahlon Ye Takhton Ye Tajon Ki Duniya—which is laden with expectations of a beautiful tomorrow.

However, in the same film, he wrote the song ‘Ye Duniya Agar Mil Bhi Jaye Toh Kya Hai,’ which means “even if I get the entire world, what difference does it make,” speaking out against the dangers of materialism at a time when millions were struggling under the brutal weight of poverty.

Even among his contemporaries, Sahir stood out for the clarity and directness of his writings. Expressing his pain at the societal repression women suffer in the film Sadhna (1958) starring Vyjayanthimala and Sunil Dutt, Sahir writes in the song, ‘Aurat Ne Janam Diya Mardon Ko,’

Mardon ke liye har zulm ravaan
Aurat ke liye rona bhi khataa
Mardon ke liye laakhon sejein
Aurat ke liye bas ek chita
Mardon ke liye har aish ka haq
Aurat ke liye jeena bhi sazaa
Aurat ne janam diya mardon ko…

(For men, every torment is acceptable
For a woman, even weeping is a crime
For men, there are a million beds
For a woman, there is just one pyre
For men, there is a right to every depravity
For a woman, even to live is a punishment
But it is women who give birth to men…)

“Before and after him, people have written political songs, but you have to read between the lines and identify the underlying theme. Sahir’s writings, on the other hand, are anything but subtle and this why he stands alone among his peers. He would raise a straightforward thought, and you, as a reader, would immediately grasp the subtext. Sahir’s work is candid and exceedingly profound, which is why he is unique. Even today if there is any kind of injustice, we go back to his songs,” informs Manwani.

All through his interactions with the media, Sahir maintained the refrain that his writings were a product of his experiences, which is why he could write about them.

In fact, in one interview, somebody asked him, “do you need to be a ‘communist’ to write about these experiences?”

His response was, “No, I don’t need to be a communist to write about these experiences. If anyone writes about what one has experienced honestly then this is what will come out. I need not be branded a communist for this kind of writing.”

Moreover, unlike his fellow contemporary lyricists, who approached their writing depending on the premise of the film, Sahir never lost sight of his politics.

Also Read: RD Burman: 5 Reasons Why ‘Pancham Da’ Is One of India’s Greatest Composers!

Usually, if the premise did not require for song writers to pen a political song, they wouldn’t. But Sahir was different.

Irrespective of which film he was writing for, there would always be a political angle in his songs. Even when he wrote a fun song for Mehmood in Neel Kamal (1968) ‘Khali Dabba, Khali Botal,’ you couldn’t escape his politics.

You can also take the example of the song ‘Aasman Pe Hai Khuda’ for the film Phir Subah Hogi (1958) where he writes,

Aasmaan pe hai khuda, aur zamin pe hum
Aajkal woh is taraf dekhta hai kam

(God is in the skies, and we are on the ground
However, these days God doesn’t look at us as much)

“Today, you can’t even think of writing songs like these, saying ‘what use is this God when he doesn’t even care about the issues facing the common man.’ They will be considered blasphemous,” remarks Marwani.

The oft-repeated complaint against songwriters and film celebrities today is that they are afraid to take political positions on contentious subjects.

Besides the economics, lack of legal cover and the judiciary’s poor track record in protecting free speech, there is another element that Manwani feels adds to the seeming lack of political content in film songs today.

“It’s not as if the likes of Manto weren’t slapped with court cases on various charges for their writings, but today’s writers don’t share those kinds of experiences. Those were different times,” says Manwani.

Yes, the challenges today are very different, but the dial is ever-shifting, albeit slowly, in mainstream Hindi cinema. Movies now attempt to reflect the aspirations of ordinary people from small towns.

If Sahir were alive today, he would recognise this, but also urge his fellow songwriters to take more risks than they are today.

(For additional reading please refer to ‘Sahir Ludhianvi: The People’s Poet’ by Akshay Manwani.)

(Edited by Gayatri Mishra)

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She flung herself into the air and landed back on earth with startling ease, all the while wielding a heavy sword (Vaal Veechu) in one hand, a stick (kambu) in another. Her feet touched the ground, only to leap again, this time cutting through the air with a metal whip, a surul vaal.

This is not a description of a mythical warrior princess lost in the pages of time. Our protagonist here is very real and living a life dedicated to reviving a 3000-year-old art form, Silambam.

A designer by profession, Aishwarya Manivannan found her calling around 5 years ago when her dance teacher suggested the martial art form to her for improving her posture and core strength.

“I had been learning Bharatnatyam for quite some time when my guru, Kavita Ramu (IAS) suggested to me to learn Silambam. The traditional art-form which is more than 3000 years old, intrigued me and I joined. As I began to train under my Silambam guru, Power Pandian Aasan, I realised that I had just jumped into an ocean of knowledge, and so, I dove deeper. He pushed me beyond my known capacities which made me feel so empowered. After a point, my interest and love for Silambam grew so strong that I had to leave Bharatnatyam to dedicate myself completely to this ancient art-form. And it was all worth it!” said Aishwarya while speaking to The Better India (TBI).

Now she juggles her life between being a Silambam champion, holding workshops to propagate the art form and managing Maisha Studio that she founded to encourage creative expression through various mediums.

With grit and a determined belief in self, Aishwarya not only broke gender stereotypes around the martial art form that usually conjures up images of well-built men sporting a thick moustache of pride, she also broke records at the global front winning four gold and one silver medal at the 2016 Asian Silambam Championship held in Malaysia.

“Silambam was not only physically but also spiritually empowering. It is like meditation, where you have to pour yourself entirely. This realisation pushed me further to share this treasure with more people, and I am glad that there are many more people who think the same. This art is finally gaining momentum both nationally and internationally,” she said.

Also Read: Women Who Slay – Kerala’s Oldest Martial Art Granny Is Over 70 & Can Still Swirl a Mean Sword

In order to raise awareness about the art form, as well as the attire—a handloom saree worn in a dhoti style—Aishwarya uploaded a video of her performing Silambam acrobatics wearing a saree on National Handloom Day 2016. You can check it out here:

“The video garnered a lot of attention which was much beyond my expectation. The intent, however, was to popularise both Silambam and the traditional attire in the urban scenario. They are traditional art forms popular only in rural spaces, and I wanted to do my bit to change that by including the urban audience as well. Also, in general, Silambam is seen as a masculine art form and the video was meant to challenge that and show that one can be comfortable in a dress like saree,” she added.

Now emerging to be a prominent name in the art circle, especially with respect to Silambam, Aishwarya shares her dream to take it to the next generation.

“In Silambam, there is no age limit. And the benefits from Silambam are multifaceted and holistic especially for children as the art form focuses on the use of both hands vigorously which helps to trigger both the right and left sides of the brain thus aiding in brain development. This is the reason why a number of schools are getting interested in including it in their curriculum, and I hope this trend spreads to the entire nation,” said 30-year-old Aishwarya.

A stellar example of empowerment, we hope more such women in India follow her lead and step forward to raise the sword of personal victory and pride in self!

(Edited by Saiqua Sultan)

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Right from childhood, craft had always intrigued Aparna S. A resident of Munroe Thuruthu in Kollam, she would dabble in different craft forms, despite having no formal training. Her exceptional handiwork captivated her family and friends.

Her passion for craft became pronounced with terracotta jewellery which she started making during her undergraduate days.

Friends, teachers and acquaintances from college—everyone wanted to buy her products. Soon, word spread and more orders began pouring in. She then decided to sell her craft work through social media under the brand name, Rudra.

But today, the 23-year-old young woman is on a slightly different mission—one that brings craft and conservation under a single umbrella.

Roughly over a year and a half ago, Aparna began noticing mounds of glass bottles discarded near the banks of Ashtamudi Kayal (lake), which was quite close to her home.

“While these were definitely littered around the entire area, I’d noticed that most of these bottles were quite pretty. Whenever I passed this way, I would collect the bottles with the intention of upcycling them creatively. I started with simple drawings and later progressed to art techniques like decoupage as well as calligraphy,” she says.

With complete passion and dedication, she transformed these bottles into works of art. When her beautifully upcycled bottles began piling up in her backyard, she created a Facebook page to sell them. Giving a quirky edge to the Malayalam word for bottle, she named her new venture ‘Quppi’.

And just like her terracotta jewellery, her “Quppi” wares also found an instant fan base.

“It was encouraging as I began getting a lot of orders. While I was happy that everyone loved my products, what made me happier was the fact that the areas from where I was picking these discarded bottles were slowly becoming cleaner. My efforts were successful in not only making the lakeside more beautiful but also in inspiring others. Seeing me in action, people across Kollam started collecting discarded bottles and would supply these to me for upcycling. Change was happening through one simple act!” says Aparna, who is currently pursuing her first year of B.Ed.

Encouraged by this momentum, Aparna was driven to scale up her conservation initiative through community participation.

On 17 March, she and her friends organised a clean-up drive along Link Road near Kerala State Road Transport Corporation (KSRTC) bus stand in the city.

“A lot of people joined us in this initiative, and by the end of it, we managed to collect about a truckload worth of bottles. They helped with not just the collection of the bottles but also cleaning these for my use later,” she adds.

This inspired her further to do something for the “World Water Day”, on 22 March.

“It is not just glass bottles that lie along the banks of Ashtamudi Kayal, but a plethora of other waste too. So many people are into craft these days and specially upcycling. The way I specialise in glass bottles, I was sure that there would be people who work with materials like plastic and other waste too. We could invite people to fish out for waste and ask them to upcycle these very materials on the spot. That’s how this drive was envisioned,” Aparna explains.

She circulated a simple post on the clean-up drive amongst her friends and acquaintances, hoping for decent participation. Choosing the shady location of DTPC’s Adventure Park, she requested the authorities for allowing the participants to work there. To her surprise, they told her that no ticket charges would be levied from them as they were doing something good for the environment.

Her small network of friends worked quite well as over 100 people joined Aparna and her friends at the park on 22 March.

“We started at 11 am with a pep talk. There were students from engineering and fashion design colleges as well as kids under the Mathrubhumi Seed programme. In addition to that, teachers and authorities from the Health Department as well as school students joined us in our collection drive. By noon, the collection was complete, and we dispersed for lunch. We’d set up a small stall where I’d put kept art supplies that people could use. All of us wrapped up with our upcycled products by 4.30 in the evening,” she excitedly shares.

Advocate Rahul V I, a known figure who had worked in several cases associated with Ashtamudi Kayal also joined Aparna in her mission. “He had personally reached out to me to join this initiative. He gave a encouraging speech at the event that motivated us all. The overall response was overwhelming,” she adds.

Aparna and her friends then set up a stall near the KSRTC bus stand by 5 in the evening the same day, and managed to sell all the products and received good returns.

“While my initiative was never profit-oriented, the returns from the sales had been really heartening. None of my drives has been powered by any sponsors or corporate backing. I do it purely out of a passion for craft and through that, for our environment,” Aparna shares.

She attributes her mother for the creative strain in her blood, who like Aparna, loves craft but has no formal training.

“Like I go around collecting bottles, my mother, who works in the State Health Department, loves collecting pots and every time she steps out, she gets at least one home!” laughs Aparna.

As for future plans, the young woman intends to empower survivors of sexual abuse and human trafficking at the Nirbhaya shelter home in the city by teaching them her upcycled bottle craft. “I used to volunteer there earlier and taught kids to elderly women different craft forms. Engaging them in art and craft is relaxing and rejuvenating for them. Now, I want them to work with them and help them to earn a living out of it,” she concludes.

We admire Aparna’s passion for craft and how she is effectively utilising her skills for the greater cause of conserving Asthamudi Kayal. A truly inspiring youngster, we wish her luck in all her future endeavours.

To check out Aparna’s upcycled bottle craft, you can go to the Quppi Facebook page here. You can also reach out to Aparna at 7907504101.

(Edited by Saiqua Sultan)

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Having studied in central schools across the length and breadth of the country, thanks to my father, an ex-defence personnel, singing patriotic songs regularly was an intrinsic part of my school life. A fact, I’m pretty sure, most people who have, and still study in government schools would vouch for.

Patriotic songs are usually limited to occasions like Independence Day or Republic Day celebrations in other schools but not for us Central schoolers!

From Sare Jahan Se Achha or Vande Mataram, I can go on with the list of the songs that I sang during countless morning assemblies.

But if there is one song that has stood the test of time and continues to evoke the same sense of love for the country, it is the heart-wrenching Ae Mere Watan Ke Logon.

The hauntingly ethereal quality of the song stemmed from the vocal cords of the legendary Lata Mangeshkar.

Coupled with Mangeshkar’s mellifluous voice were the powerful, hard-hitting lyrics of Kavi Pradeep that famously moved Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru to tears.

Very few people know the origin of the song which has remained, to this date, synonymous with Mangeshkar. Poet Pradeep penned the song shortly after the 1962 Indo-China war, as a tribute to the soldiers who had died defending the country.

For a country still agonising over a defeat in the war, the song acted as the perfect wake-up call asking the citizens to overcome their anger and rise in solidarity for the fallen.

However, from its composition to its overwhelming performance, the song has a fascinating story behind in which Pradeep had a crucial role to play.

Born as Ramchandra Narayanji Dwivedi, Kavi Pradeep, already a renowned poet and songwriter by then, was left aggrieved and devastated by the war.

Amongst the thousands who had been martyred during the war, it was the sacrifice of Param Veer Chakra, Major Shaitan Singh Bhati that had moved Pradeep to pen down the lyrics of Ae Mere Watan ke Logon.

An account claims that Pradeep had been walking along the Mahim beach in Mumbai when the words exploded into his head. Borrowing a pen from a fellow stroller, he wrote the first stanza of the song on the foil from a pack of cigarettes.

After a few weeks, producer Mehboob Khan approached Pradeep for a song for a fundraising event that he had organised at National Stadium. Though Pradeep readily agreed, he told Khan that no further details of the song would be disclosed.

He teamed up with composer C Ramchandra and roped in Mangeshkar to sing the song.

However, a misunderstanding arose between the composer and the singer, who then walked out and Asha Bhosle stepped in. But Pradeep was adamant on Mangeshkar as he felt that hers was the only voice that could do justice to the song and was relentless in his pursuit of convincing the singer.

When Mangeshkar finally heard the song that Pradeep sang in front of her, it is said that she broke down and agreed at once—only on the condition that Pradeep would have to be present in all the rehearsals. And the rest is history!

On 27 January 1963, Mangeshkar sang the song in public for the very first time in the presence of Nehru and other eminent dignitaries during the Republic Day celebrations at the National Stadium in New Delhi. The Prime Minister was moved to tears upon listening to the soulful rendition. Sadly, Pradeep never got to see the overwhelming response, as he wasn’t invited to the event.

However, the man would get the opportunity to sing the song two months later in front of Nehru in Mumbai, when the PM was attending a school function.

Pradeep also presented an original handwritten copy of the poem to Nehru that day.

While Pradeep, in his career spanning five decades, wrote over 1,700 songs, it was this song that would truly make him a legend amongst the songwriters in the country.

You may also like: Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyay: Remembering the Legend Who Wrote Vande Mataram

Ae Mere Watan ke Logon would go on to become one of the greatest patriotic songs of the country, and in recognition of his work, the government of India bestowed Pradeep with the honour of ‘Rashtriya Kavi’ (National Poet).

While Pradeep may not be alive today, his legacy lives on. Revisit the overpowering sense of gratitude to the fallen soldiers that this iconic song invokes here:

(Edited by Saiqua Sultan)

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Every beautiful motif or pattern that you come across in a silk saree is the result of thousands of punch cards that are laced together to work in tangent with a loom.

Known as the Jacquard Machine, this mechanism was invented sometime during the start of the nineteenth century with the goal to help weavers save time and bring some respite to the backbreaking hard work that went behind every handwoven work.

While the rest of the world has far progressed from this aged way of manufacturing textiles, many weaving communities in India continue to use the punch card-based Jacquard Machine to design silk sarees, where every single card is manually created and controlled by the weavers.

While electric components have made way into this apparatus, the dependence on the punch-card system continues to prevail.

Not only is the process quite time consuming—taking easily between 15 days to a month for every single design, what makes the painstaking efforts of the weavers quite short-lived is the life of these cards that last only up to two-three years.

All the efforts and hardships that the weavers face greatly affected Sivakumar Modha, a native of Hindupur town in Anantapur district, Andhra Pradesh. After completing his Bachelor’s degree in 2000, the young man was preparing for MCA entrance, when an impromptu visit to the weaving village of Modha near his hometown would forever change the course of his life.

“I was visiting a friend of mine, when I first saw a loom. Until then, I never had the opportunity to observe one this close and my curiosity sparked. I understood how the punch cards played a central role in the generation of designs. For instance, the more intricate a pattern got, the more number of punch cards it would require to create it. Which meant, a weaver would have to spend even more time on the same work,” says Sivakumar, in conversation to The Better India (TBI).

And it wasn’t even a profitable balance of efforts with returns. Costing about Rs 4 for every card, the entire cost of simplest of designs would easily amount up to Rs 20,000 ( a card set for a saree), while barely surviving for three years.

“Even more heartbreaking was the fact that about 20 per cent of the weaving communities across the country were still working on such kind of looms. While production might be meeting the demand, it came at the cost of the weavers, and seeing their struggle made me want to do something that would alleviate their hardships,” he recalls.

Leaving behind the dreams and ambitions that his family had for their son, Sivakumar decided to trudge down the revolutionary path.

He wanted to figure out a way in which technology could be incorporated in the weaving process that would reduce the manual work while delivering the same result.

However, when Sivakumar discussed his plans with his family, they were opposed to the idea and tried dissuading him from flinging away a lucrative career path. In fact, his father was so riled up with his decision that he refused to talk to him. But Sivakumar had made up his mind, and nothing was going to stop him—not even family opposition.

He set out to research on various weaving communities that still worked with the punch-card mechanism to understand their struggles. During this time, he also observed how the electronic components of the Jacquard Machine would get damaged once every few months which was financially straining.

“So I’d to figure out a mechanism that would rule out this snag from happening over and over again,” Sivakumar explains.

Sadly, his father passed away in 2004, which Sivakumar believes amounted from the tension and anxiety of his son’s wayward choices. This affected him deeply and he left his hometown to move to Hyderabad in 2006.

“A lot of my friends and acquaintances discouraged me, but I didn’t give up. To this date, my family members have no idea about my whereabouts, but I still keep track of their well-being,” he sadly adds.

Sivakumar spent the next 14 years researching and developing an electronic Jacquard Machine that would replace the conventional punch-card mechanism to an image-based system incorporated to the loom through a pen drive!

He christened the device Modha Device.

Even though it is still a prototype, two weaving communities—one based in Hyderabad and another one in a village in Tamil Nadu are using his invention.

“Any design can be woven into a fabric using Modha Device, which is battery-operated. A pendrive with image files needs to be connected to the machine, which is already connected to the loom. Replacing the punch-card mechanism reduces roughly about 90 per cent of the time that a weaver would otherwise spend designing the cards,” explains Sivakumar.

A family that refuses to speak to him or friends who refused to back him in his endeavours aren’t the only sacrifices that Sivakumar has made in this pursuit. When he met the love of his life 12 years back, they decided to get married but not have any kids until his invention becomes available in the market.

“My wife has been my backbone all along and never gave up on me. It is her unwavering belief in me that has kept me going,” he proudly adds.

One interesting aspect behind Sivakumar’s years of work behind making Modha Device a reality is how he finally managed to eliminate the breaking down of electronic components caused by mechanical force diversion in the Jacquard Machine.

It easily takes over a month for a weaver to create a complicated design like the following while costing anywhere between Rs 80,000-95,000 for the final product. “But with Modha Device incorporated to a loom, the same design can easily be created within 5-10 minutes with zero time invested for design creation,” says Sivakumar.

Furthermore, because punch cards are made of card board (made from trees), its elimination in Modha Device makes it an eco-friendly as well sustainable innovation.

“It took me over a decade, but I did develop a solution that ruled out this anomaly and increased the longevity of the electronic component. I’ve applied for a patent for this technology,” he adds.

Sivakumar shares with us that the financial demands of developing this device was met through angel donors from software industry, who wished to remain anonymous. Overall, he has spent about Rs 50 lakhs, including both his own funds and donor investments.

At present, he is hoping for investors, whose contribution would help him take Modha Device to the market. “My estimate is Rs 2 crores and I really hope someone comes on board to make this a reality. Lives of weavers will significantly improve, if my innovation reaches them all. In fact, I’m also in talks with both central and state government authorities, who have promised to offer 50 per cent subsidy to weavers once my machine goes commercial. They can’t help me before that happens,” shares Sivakumar.

Costing between Rs 40,000-42,000, Sivakumar hopes to sell the product at a price of Rs 50,000—only adding a small margin for his sustenance.

“My decision to take this path or develop this device was never triggered with lucrative intentions in mind, but for the betterment of the weavers. Which is precisely why, when a Kolkata-based weavers firm offered to buy out my invention for Rs 20 crores, I refused the offer downright,” he adds.

Despite having created such a revolutionary device, Sivakumar isn’t happy as it hasn’t yet reached those who need it the most. “Whenever Modha Device becomes a commercial entity, my goal is to make it accessible to between 500 and 1,000 weavers in a month and possibly in five years, to one lakh weavers across the country,” he says.

On a parting note, Sivakumar shares with us that when Modha Device will finally hit the market and reach every weaver as he had envisioned, he will attribute the success with gratitude and humble apology to two people. “My mother and my wife—for they have suffered a lot because of my decisions, and I believe that without their support, I wouldn’t have been able to create this device even in 20 years,” he concludes.

You may also like: How a Young Woman From Rural Odisha Used Technology to Revolutionise Weaving in Her Community

Driven by such a great cause that would benefit scores of weavers, we really hope that Sivakumar finds the aid and assistance he needs.

If you wish to help him in this pursuit, you can reach out to him at 9866001678 & 7095810510 as well as mail him at president@pallesrujana.org or sivakumar.modha@gmail.com.

(With inputs from Anjani Samyukta)

(Edited by Saiqua Sultan)

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In February this year, Subhasis Neogi was busy crafting his 35-feet-long dragon puppet for the Swasth Bharat Yatra in Chandigarh, organised by the FSSAI (Food Safety and Standards Authority of India).

Giving the final touches to the massive puppet that had to be carried by seven volunteers, he says, “We have been struggling with our dragon. We are going with the Department of Food, Supplies and Consumer Affairs. We have to customise the dragon puppet with the logos of healthy foods and habits. Ours is the biggest puppet. Jugaad se banaya hai tokriyon se (The puppet has been made with locally-available baskets).”

He adds, “Puppetry involves physics and mathematics. For instance, if we have an 8-10 feet tall puppet set up in front of a windy lake which has to be visible to 450 people, we have to think about how we will balance such a big structure; what would be its weight; how we would distribute it; and if we be able to move it.

These are issues that have to be addressed, along with adequate attention to the safety aspects, he notes.

“Log humko katputli wala samajhtey hain woh alag baat hai (Although, people think we are only puppeteers. That is another story),” he chuckles.

Neogi is the president of PNA-The Puppet Theatre, Chandigarh. PNA is short for Putul Nacher Ashor or ‘Katputli Ki Mehfil’ that he started in 2005.

Known for giant puppets, stagecraft and props, his earlier works include:
– the mascot for the People’s Climate March, an international event held in Delhi in September 2014;
– the mascot for the Bekauf Azaadi Rally, organised in August 2017 to highlight the need for security for women in cities;
– a larger-than-life crab for cancer awareness in association with the Postgraduate Institute of Medical Education and Research (PGIMER), Chandigarh, in November 2017;
– and a flying metal bird, made with a thela or a push kart to go with a Ruskin Bond play. This was presented by children at Mind Tree School.

“We love to work with junk and paper. We have no choice. Stagecraft can cost Rs 500 or Rs 5,000,” he says.

Also Read: Modern Day Manto: Delhi Man’s Puppets Talk about Sex & Gender, Are You Listening?

Subhasis Neogi’s puppets have been displayed in several international festivals. In 2016, he was conferred with the prestigious Nek Chand Excellence Award.

This annual award is given in the name of Padma Shri Nek Chand, who had built Chandigarh’s famous Rock Garden from crockery pieces, stones and discarded material. The Award aims to recognise people who have created works of art from waste materials.

Subhasis was chosen for his work in creating giant puppets from waste paper, cane baskets, pushcarts and other discarded material.

As regards their wide-reaching impact, he shares, “Popeye agar palak khao bolega toh kha lenge bachche (Children will eat spinach if a puppet of Popeye tells them to). Be it hard-hitting facts about dowry or crimes against women, the message can be lucidly conveyed through these puppets.”

Life has been a rollercoaster ride for this Chandigarh-based animator and illustrator. He has even presented Putali Rani Badi Sayani, a puppet show produced and presented for Doordarshan’s young viewers in 2008. Along with PGIMER, he has participated in several awareness campaigns for blood donation, Thalassemia and cancer.

His puppet play Poly Bag Bhagao, aimed to make cities plastic-free by urging people to avoid using polythene bags. It was staged over 25 times in Delhi, Bhopal and Chandigarh!

He has also worked with the Chandigarh Traffic Police, Chandigarh AIDS Control Society, Chandigarh Lalit Kala Academy and other organisations.

In association with the T S Central State Library, Chandigarh, he has conducted outreach programmes for minors undergoing trials in juvenile homes. Through this partnership, he also conducts workshops on creating educational toys for children.

One of his hard-hitting shadow puppet plays,Udaan, received critical acclaim for highlighting the atrocities on women, women’s rights and empowerment.

He shares, “People approach us for collaborations. We work on a war-footing and try to make each project unique. The team is enthusiastic as they know ‘Dada sambhal lengey’ (Their brother will take care of the project).”

When he is not designing mammoth puppets, Subhasis is busy with outreach programmes for rural children and students of government schools. For him, “Outreach is to reach places where no one wants to go, where there is dung and filth.”

Reaching children in the villages of Punjab and slums of Panchkula makes him content. “They don’t go to school in swanky cars. Being the have-nots, they want to learn in earnest. There is a fire in them,” he says.

So, after working till 2 p.m. at a local college where he teaches animation, he dedicates the rest of the day until the wee hours of the night, to prepare puppets and modules for his dream project, ‘Widen Your Horizon’. It is an outreach programme he started seven months ago for the children of masons, maids, servants and daily wagers in rural areas.

Come afternoon, children from surrounding slums and villages start trickling at Ashoka Buddha Vihar located in Khuda Ali Sher village. What follows is food for the mind and soul, with a brief meditation session by the Buddhist monks, theatre time, hands-on scientific toys, a puppet-making session, and more.

“You cannot have boundaries when you are teaching children,” he says, as he packs his outreach programme with diverse yet interesting activities.

A toffee and sometimes a tetra pack of fruit beverage—when he can afford it—are the treats awaiting the young participants after the workshop.

The team carries a carpet that comes as succour for children during winters. “Tik ke baithtey hain (They sit poised during meditation). It shows that they are inculcating discipline,” he smiles.

“I try to ensure that each time we meet the children, there is something different for them to learn. A friend donates Hindi books every month. The motive is to initiate reading habits among them,” he says.

More children are coming for the weekend outreach programme, he shares. Subhasis is also associated with teacher training as well as ‘theatre in education’ for over ten years for government school children.

“It is called object theatre. We pick up a topic from the syllabus. Students stage a play after a month-long workshop. For instance, in Haryana, the students presented a play on the solar system. It was larger-than-life. I believe that anything can work when it comes to animation. So we had planet puppets talking among themselves about their characteristics, distance from the Earth and so on,” he recollects.

Before he came to Chandigarh 31 years ago, Subhasis was associated with theatre in Kolkata. He designed props and stagecraft. He obtained his professional training in theatre and mime from Jogesh Dutta and Niranjan Goswami from the city of joy.

“As a Bengali, I am fond of theatre. I left Kolkata in the mid-80s. I started puppetry in 2003 with a workshop with Dadi Pudumjee, followed by elaborate training in Delhi. Prior to animation, I did theatre and made props and stagecraft. I still love to do theatre. In my puppet theatre, my characters are alive. My benches can talk, and my trees can walk. In fact, puppetry can be called ‘bina digital ka animation’ or ‘manual animation on stage’. According to me, this is the difference between theatre and puppets.”

Speaking about the Bengali play Bhushundir Mathe (A Land of Ghost) that he recently directed in Chandigarh, he says, “It is a historical play based on a short story by Padma Bhushan Rajshekhar Basu who was known by his pen name Parshuram. It was staged in Shanti Niketan in 1948 for the first time. It is a satire that is still being staged after so many years. I plan to present it in Hindi with a sutradhar (host) this time.”

“For 19 years, I worked in the corporate sector. I came to Chandigarh to look for a job after my father’s demise. Ek hi naukri ki zindagi mein maine (the only job I did in my life). I wanted to study in an Arts College or the National School of Drama. Both didn’t happen. My wife told me that I would be happier in a creative field. She motivated me to quit my job to take up puppetry, which was not easy,” he recollects.

His wife, Anupama Neogi, teaches chemistry for classes 11 and 12. It is to her that Subhasis owes his recognition. There is not much money that puppet and stagecraft offer, but he is happy. It is his passion that keeps him going.

You May Also Like: These Chandigarh Students Have Turned Their School Trash Into a Stunning Garden!

Till date, his projects have been innumerable and each standing out for its sheer creativity. Despite all the laurels, he works silently with his puppets, letting the props speak for him.

(Edited by Shruti Singhal)

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Long before television and smartphones took over as news providers, the coming of the newspaper signalled the break of dawn for most households in India.

Though the readership of this old source of news has gone down in the last one decade across the globe, India is, perhaps, one of those few countries where people still purchase newspapers.

I remember how newspaper reading was often hailed as a good habit in both schools and homes, which made my father subscribe to three publications. Once the newspapers had served their purposes, they would be repurposed for packaging, but more often than not, they would be left to stack up in one corner of the house to be sold to scrap dealers at paltry sums.

However, for those who are into craft, newspapers are one of the unassuming yet versatile materials that can practically be used to create anything!

Take Nashik’s Meena Patankar for example. One look at the dolls and various other craftwork she creates and you would be hard pressed to believe that these are crafted from newspaper.

Check some of these out and see for yourself!

Engaged in art and craft for over a decade, Meena’s tryst with paper started when her children grew up. “I found that there was a lot of time for me to while by as my daughters left to pursue higher studies. A lot of newspapers had piled up in our house, and I wanted to do something out of it,” says Meena to The Better India (TBI).

However, the real motivator came from an FB post, where someone had created a flower pot using only newspapers, and Meena was really inspired. “I started looking up on the Internet, and came across numerous videos where people have used newspapers to make brilliant craftwork. Some explained very efficiently how they did it while many others didn’t and I started exploring different techniques myself,” she recalls.

This was five years back.

Now, Meena’s paper dolls are quite famous in the city and people often approach her with orders.

“I only make the dolls when someone places an order locally. Unlike paper mache, my craftwork is made of paper tubes, which makes it fragile and hard to store in mass quantities. Also, these need to be protected from dust,” she explains.

Well, paper craft isn’t Meena’s only forte, who also specialises in Gond and Worli artforms. One could say that the creativity runs in the family, for Meena’s both daughters are in the design field. She finds great support from her husband as well as her kids in all her endeavours

You may also like: Gold from Waste: This Dollmaker’s Unusual Concept Earned Her a Guinness Record!

What a wonderful way to recycle paper that is not only creative but also a treat for the eyes. We wish Meena luck and hope she continues to create such beautiful works.

If you wish to reach out to Meena, you can call her at 8805916811.

(Edited by Saiqua Sultan)

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To make people free is the aim of art, therefore, art for me is the science of freedom.”
– German artist Joseph Beuys

For Joseph Beuys, art was a window to freedom. But Julien de Casabianca says that it is art that needs to be freed.

And so, this French and Corsican visual artist has been travelling across the globe for the past five years, freeing individuals trapped inside old canvases and museums to live, breathe and communicate in the open streets.

Sounds like magic? It is to some.

So, equipped with his magical aids—a camera, printing paper, glue and brushes—he walks around dark alleys and narrow by-lanes in search of the perfect home for the rescued.

This is the Outings Project, a global movement that was started in 2014 to make ‘high art’ on the city walls for all to experience.

Many museums from around the world, like the Cummer Museum in Jacksonville (USA), the Memphis Brooks Museum of Art (USA), the Geneva Museum of Art (Switzerland), and The Ixelles-Brussels Museum, have invited him to reference their pieces for his work.

Since then, the 48-year-old journalist and filmmaker has ‘pasted’ paintings in 40 different cities across 19 countries. The pictures of his work are available on his website.

He says that he seeks to free beauty from restriction, and so he photographs the portraits of individuals trapped in tall-walled museums and frees their printed manifestations on weathered and crumbling walls, restoring their raw charm.

According to Julien, the art inside the walls of museums and galleries is a symbol of knowledge and value. Something that is selectively accessible and represents privilege. By taking it out into the streets, he aims to awaken its pure aesthetic virtue of beauty—something which everyone needs, he says.

And that is why Julien has consciously placed his art across the world, pasting it, especially in neglected and poor neighbourhoods.

What started as an individual attempt to spread beauty has now evolved into a movement with the project inviting participation from across the world. All you need to do is have a camera, a printer and an unbridled sense of aesthetics.

Also Read: Check Out How 100 Artists Turned Prayagraj Into India’s First ‘Street Art City’

In a world entangled in divided definitions of ‘high’ art, street art and vandalism, Julien’s art has found a middle ground. While his work reaches out to beautify and value the erstwhile neglected and damaged corners of cities, thus guarding itself against the tag of ‘vandalism’, it also dilutes the divide by using intricate and sometimes iconic paintings.

From preparing the larger-than-life or life-size prints to meticulously cutting out the backgrounds of the images while preserving the characters within, his work has gathered awe and appreciation all over.

Under his hand, the imperfections of weathered walls turn into raw canvases where he applies strokes of glue to paste photographs of deities, Mughal emperors, queens, kings and many more—all blending seamlessly into the surroundings.

The princess once peeping from the jharokha and trapped in the chambers of wooden frames is now set free. She, and many like her, are no longer distant, hung up as lifeless objects on posh walls.

Thanks to this artist, they now breathe among the living—in front of your door or beside a window—as silent neighbours observing the world in its entirety!

To know more about Julien and his art, check out his website.

(Edited by Shruti Singhal)

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Ladakh officially opened itself to the world in 1974 when the Government of India first allowed tourists into this strategically sensitive high-altitude region.

However, in 1972, a young and ambitious 19-year-old Phonsok Tsering Dimbir, popularly known as Phonsok Ladakhi, decided to plunge into the world of cinema, seeking admission into the prestigious Film and Television Institute of India (FTII). It was a time when Ladakh didn’t even have a cinema hall with the good old Radio as the only source of entertainment. Many of you may not have ever heard of him, but Phonsok was Ladakh’s first true representative in mainstream Indian popular culture.

Performing across a host of minor roles in Bollywood movies through the late 1970s like Khel Khel Mai, Uchi Udaan, Shalimar and Kachhey Herai, Phonsok would go onto become a household name in the late 1980s, acting in Doordarshan-sponsored television shows like Intezaar and Paramveer Chakra.

Phonsok would later become a pioneer of popular Ladakhi music, produce his own television series, craft numerous documentaries on Ladakh, compose the regimental song for the Ladakh Scouts and eventually dedicate his life to spreading the gospel of yoga and meditation.

Born on November 14, 1953, in Chemrey village of Leh district, Phonsok spent the first 12 years of his life there. Subsequently, he went to the famous C.M.S Tyndale Biscoe Memorial High School in Srinagar, where he passed his matriculation.

“In those days, we didn’t have cinema halls in Ladakh, just the radio but I devoured the radio, listening to all the popular Bollywood songs of the day, particularly those composed by SD Burman saab. That’s what drew me to the arts early on, and helped me realise there is more to this world than becoming a doctor or an engineer,” he says, in an exclusive conversation with The Better India.

“All people from the mountains have an innate sense of rhythm,” he adds. Following his matriculation, he went to college in Jammu, where his passion for cinema and desire for stardom first took shape. One of the first movies that really inspired him was the 1969 film, Aradhna, starring the megastar Rajesh Khanna.

“Back in the day, I thought I looked like Rajesh Khanna. I would spend less time in college and more in the cinema halls watching all his films. Also, at the same time, the legendary Danny Denzongpa had also made his mark in the film industry after graduating from FTII, Pune. This drove my desire to become not just an actor, but a star,” says Phonsok.

Phonsok also says that though many want to become an actor, yet few have the courage to follow through on their impulse.

“Acting is a very uncertain profession, and people would rather take the safe way out. But I jumped into the profession, and took a chance,” he adds.

Hard struggle

In 1972, he applied for FTII and was lucky enough to be accepted into the Institute alongside the legendary Tom Alter and Benjamin Gilani. Phonsok claims that they were the only three among 1,200 people who had applied for FTII in Delhi to get admission.

Learning acting from veteran theatre personalities like Roshan Taneja, he finally graduated from FTII in 1975. Initially, he landed a few minor roles, but it was a hard struggle.

“Getting roles was challenging, and I struggled a lot in Bombay (Mumbai) working side by side as an assistant teacher in a local acting school. My struggles in Bombay, however, turned me into a more resilient person. I saw hunger, difficult challenges, and days when there was no work forthcoming. There was one year, where I changed my place of residence nine times, got evicted by my landlords on each occasion because of my inability to pay the rent,” he recalls.

The first role he landed was in the 1977 film Khel Khilari Ka, starring Dharmendra. It was a small part, where he played Shakti Kapoor’s brother on screen.

“However, I never quite clicked as a star in the industry. At some level, I always had an intuition that I wouldn’t become a star, and that, coming from Ladakh, I would do something for the region, and the people of the Himalayas. Despite my struggles, I never lost faith. I took recourse to yoga and meditation, and surrounded myself with great friends like Tom Alter, who was very dear to me,” reminisces Phonsok.

Moreover, during this intense period of struggle, at no point did he feel discriminated against or suffered at the hands of racial prejudice.

Danny Denzongpa was a star when I came to Bombay. When he became famous no one doubted people who looked like me. He liberated us. When Danny’s fame was rising, nobody took my desire to become an actor as a joke. I never felt discriminated against, but at some level, my features did stand in the way to getting roles. For example, I could not play the role of a blood relative. No one would cast me as Hema Malini’s brother, he recalls.

“As Danny grew in stature playing negative roles, people also thought I’d reach those heights, and they treated me that way. Unfortunately, it never quite worked out for me.

“After struggling for nearly a decade in the film industry, it was television that saved me,” he adds.

Television, filmmaking and music

Things really picked up for him with the advent of television in India, starring in Doordarshan sponsored serials like Intezaar in 1989, where he played a Ladakhi and even had the opportunity to sing a couple of Ladakhi songs.

“With the arrival of television, my frustrations came to an end and found a different medium to express my talents. The TV offered us struggling actors with another avenue to express our talents. These avenues brought my insecurities to an end,” says Phonsok.

A few years later another show called Paramveer Chakra happened, where he played the role of Dhan Singh Thapa, a recipient of the gallantry award. Following this, he acted in a few more TV serials, working with luminaries like Saeed Mirza.

From here on, Phonsok came into his own, producing his television serial, making a 10-episode series on the Ladakh Scouts, government-sponsored films and multiple documentaries on Ladakh.

For Phonsok, acting isn’t merely a performance, but a source of spiritual regeneration.
“Through acting, I learnt to tap into my subconscious. Within that subconsciousness, our fears, plus points and weaknesses are hidden. If you can break the shackles there, you can become a better actor. Through acting, I learnt how you can tackle the source of all your fears that are seeped within your subconscious and deliver a good performance on screen. Not only does that make you a better actor, but a better person as well,” he says.

From acting and filmmaking, he also made his mark in popular regional music, which resonated with both the Ladakhi and Tibetan community in India. He was indeed a pioneer of modern Ladakhi music.

“He [Phonsok] is known for an influential style of popular song that incorporated the film-style ghazal with either Ladakhi language lyrics or with Hindi lyrics and Tibetan Buddhist themes,” writes Noé Dinnerstein for Himalaya, the Journal of the Association for Nepal and Himalayan Studies.

“His Hindi-language songs ‘Om mani padme hum‘ and ‘Namo namo‘ (the latter praising the Dalai Lama) are perennial favourites and are accessible to both communities in Hindi, the lingua franca of North India. Hence, there is an assertion of a common Tibetan Buddhist culture,” the paper goes onto add.

He would even go onto compose the regimental song for the Ladakh Scouts called Zinda Kaum, for which received a letter of commendation from the Chief of Army Staff in 2017. “Every war India has fought, soldiers from Ladakh have always stood tall. With these thoughts, I had composed a song and would sing it to the regiment boys,” he says.

However, his foray into music was an accident.

“When I had no work as an actor in Bombay, I was lucky enough to meet a friend, who took me to a music teacher. Those lessons honed my talents in music, learning various vocal techniques like Sargam. Besides learning how to sing, I was also an assistant to Professor Roshan Taneja, who was a very well known instructor at FTII and would, later on, open his own school of acting. I learnt music by accident when I had nothing to do,” he says.

Also Read: Inspiring! Ladakh Mason Quits Job to Save 70+ Abandoned Animals With His Own Funds

A Content Existence

Today, he is a visiting faculty at FTII, teaching acting to aspiring actors. He also travels around the country teaching the craft in places ranging from Jammu & Kashmir and Uttarakhand to Goa. Meanwhile, back home in Leh, he runs a hotel, which also doubles up as a yoga centre.

Practising Vipassana for the past three decades, he is also a founder member of a Vipassana meditation centre in the Saboo area of Leh. However, his wish is to open an FTII-like school in Ladakh.

Even though real stardom in Bollywood eluded him, Phonsok remains a very content man. That feeling of contentment does not merely come from the diverse range of work he has done since but also from a deep-seated sense of inner peace.

“Any profession you take up, you must be honest. At no point, you must resort to deception or take shortcuts. If you stay on the path of truth, you will attain true happiness. Irrespective of your circumstances, you will excel in your profession provided you maintain an honest, moral core. That’s my message to all youngsters,” he says.

(Edited by Saiqua Sultan)

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Although photography came to India in 1840, it wasn’t until 1874 that Lala Deen Dayal, a public works department employee in Indore, became the first Indian to make his mark in the medium. Until the arrival of ‘Raja Deen Dayal’, British photographers expressly dominated the medium where they captured and documented the architectural marvels of this land.

Born to a family of jewellers in Sardhana, Uttar Pradesh, in the early 1840s, Dayal graduated from the Thompson College of Civil Engineering at Roorkee (now IIT Roorkee) in 1866 as a low ranking engineer. During his days working as an engineer in Indore, Dayal first picked up a passion for photography capturing different monuments using glass plate technology, which preceded photographic film as a medium to capture objects.

In 1874, Dayal decided to go full time into photography. Like any other art form of its time, particularly something as profoundly new as photography, it needed patronage, particularly from the royalty and the wealthy. His first patron was Maharaja Tukoji Rao of Indore, who alongside Sir Lepel Griffin, agent to the Governor General of the Central Provinces, encouraged the budding photographer not only to hone his craft but also set up his first studio in Indore.

“According to his Memoirs, he was thus able to obtain the patronage of Lord North Brook, the Governor General of India, in 1874. He accompanied Sir Lepel Griffin on his Central India tour during which he photographed views of Gwalior, Khajuraho and other sites in Central India,” says the website dedicated to Dayal.

Dayal’s unique skill set in using light, finding different angles and equipment, attracted many wealthy clients from the British colonial elite and Indian royals. Just two years after he had gone full time, word of his talents spread far and wide.

The two years he spent travelling, photographing grand buildings and personages with equal vigour, convinced Deen Dayal that he could become a full-time lensman, writes historian Manu S Pillai for the Mint.

What this exercise resulted in was a portfolio of 86 photographs known as “Famous Monuments of Central India”.

The British royal family commissioned him to produce a portrait of the Prince of Wales. A little over a decade later, in 1887, Dayal had become “Photographer to Her Majesty the Queen [Victoria]”. Such was his talents that the Maharaja of Indore even granted him an estate—a guaranteed source of income, which allowed him to focus solely on photography.

According to Rupika Chawla, who wrote the biography of the famous painter Raja Ravi Varma, this pioneer “brought to photography what Ravi Varma brought to paintings—the pomp and grandeur of kings . . . with the documentation of places and events.”

Despite expressing themselves through different mediums, Ravi Varma and Dayal were, in certain ways, rivals for the patronage among India’s most influential and wealthy.

According to one account of 1902, the Nizam of Hyderabad had not merely refused to accord Raja Ravi Varma the reception he was used to from his other royal patrons, but also did not buy a single one of his paintings. Coming to the Nizam’s court at the invitation of Dayal, the famous painter felt deeply slighted and blamed his host for not doing enough to promote his cause.

However, Dayal had no reason to slight him since his place in the court was already secured with the Nizam conferring the title of ‘Raja’ to the photographer.

So happy was the Nizam with the portrait Dayal had captured that he even wrote a couplet for him:

Ajab yeh karte hain tasvir mein kamaal kamaal, Ustaadon ke hain ustaad Raja Deen Dayal (In the art of photography, he surpasses all. The Master of Masters is Raja Deen Dayal).

It was in 1884, when the sixth Nizam, Mir Mahboob Ali Khan, appointed Dayal as the official court photographer. It was a position fraught with risks considering the presence of many skilled European photographers, but it was his ability to step outside his comfort zone that kept him above the fray.

Through his studios across Secunderabad, Indore and Mumbai, Dayal captured an estimated 30,000 photographs of monuments, people, and events.

“While the studio decided how the subject should pose, apparently, Dayal’s studio offered interesting ‘Hints to Sitters’—where they list colours of clothing that are suitable for photography, how you can choose your own pose and the studio will still do a good job of the photograph! And then, how, though it is trouble shooting children, and many plates may go wasted, the studio doesn’t charge extra! Deen Dayal also appears to have been an enterprising man. His studio had a catalogue of prints for sale—unmounted copies of 8*5 inch size sold for 12 annas,” says this profile in The Hindu.

One of the fascinating aspects of Dayal’s photography was how he treated his women subjects. He had an entire studio in Mumbai dedicated to women, where he employed a woman photographer, albeit a foreigner.

Various portraits of women were taken across the class divide; from royalty to commoners.

“His portraits speak a lot about the lifestyle, fashion, ornaments and the furniture of those times. The discrimination in society and the status of women shows in group photos (in their posture and way of standing). It’s as if the legendary lensman has documented the visual history of his times for posterity,” says Himani Pande, an archivist, in a conversation with The Indian Express.

Dayal often employed techniques that were already in fashion, offering three-dimensional perspectives.

“He infuses a three-dimensional perspective into photographs—street photographs of Hyderabad around the Char Minar, which give an idea of depth, monument photographs with expansive foregrounds, using lines in the buildings or lanes around to suggest its depth etc. By the 1890s panoramic views of sites constructed by joining contiguous segments had become common, says one of the curatorial notes.

“And Dayal put it to good use to create images of grandeur for the Nizam of the architecture in his kingdom,” says The Hindu.

Dayal had a thriving practice with the Times of India in 1896 describing his Bombay studio as “the most splendidly equipped photographic salon in the East”.

Unfortunately, towards the end of his life, he struggled to keep his vast empire of black and white photos intact. When he passed away in 1905, his son, Gyan Chand, tried to keep the enterprise alive, but struggled and eventually thousands of glass plate negatives were sold as scrap material in a local Hyderabad market.

Despite unfortunate circumstances and the evolution of photography in the digital age, the legacy Dayal leaves behind remains intact.

In 1989, the Indira Gandhi National Centre for the Arts (IGNCA) bought 2,857 glass plate negatives from the collection left in Dayal’s studios. It remains a splendid repository of his work. His photographs have also crossed boundaries with exhibitions of his images still being conducted to this day.

If there was ever a pioneer of photography in India, it was Raja Deen Dayal.

(Credit: Raja Deen Dayal)

(Edited by Saiqua Sultan)

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Do you remember the covers on your school textbooks?

I cannot remember mine for the simple reason that I never found them attractive. I preferred covering the books with brown covers than look at their dull colours and dispirited animations.

I cannot speak for everyone, but Kathir Arumugam from Tamil Nadu echoes my complaints.

However, unlike most of us, Kathir is fixing boring textbook covers by replacing them with eye-catching and captivating designs.

The 33-year-old has been hired by the Tamil Nadu State Board to redesign textbook covers and make them interesting enough for children to judge the books by their covers!

Ironically, Kathir is a school dropout who quit studying when he was in the ninth grade.

A Journey That Started With Quitting

At a time when his classmates were planning their futures and deciding which college to go to, Kathir’s decision to quit school was not an easy one.

A native of Arachalur, a small village near Erode, Kathir was in the ninth grade when he realised that even if he cleared his 10th boards, he wouldn’t be able to afford college. Besides, he knew that his real calling was in the field of art.

After his father passed away, his mother worked as a daily wage labourer and juggled odd jobs to raise her two sons.

Speaking to The Better India about his interest in art, Kathir says,

I remember every art camp that was conducted in our school every year. For me, drawing and painting were as good as meditation.

While Kathir was passionate about his art, he was aware of its limited monetary scope.

Thus, he decided to study financial management, but his qualification or the lack of it, came in the way.

After he quit school, he took menial jobs, at places from where he could learn and grow. For instance, he worked as a tea boy in a design company in Erode.

We lived on a hand-to-mouth existence as my mother was the sole earner and used to earn Rs 80 per day. I wanted to help her, but at the same time, not give up on my dreams, so I found a mid-way, he says.

It was here, at this very designing company, that he was first introduced to the concept of graphic designing. Every day, he would serve chai to the graphic team, and study their work in detail.

Someone told me about the graphic designing course where I could polish my art, but the classes would cost Rs 4,000. It was a huge amount for me, so I continued working, Kathir adds.  

From painting houses for Sri Lankan refugees, working as a construction labourer to delivering newspapers, Kathir worked hard to buy the necessary stationery to practice art at home.

I knew that I would be tied up in jobs and eventually forget my talent. I took conscious efforts to save money and time. A person does not become an artist overnight. It takes days of practice to master the art, he says.

Once he saved up enough to afford the classes, he enrolled in them. But leaving the job to pursue his passion was not an option.

From 8 pm-5 am, he worked in a night shift and at 6 am, he attended the class. He travelled every day for 20 kilometres from the class, “I am very grateful to my teachers for letting me pay my fee in instalments and complete my course in six months instead of three.”

Finding Recognition: Up and Onwards

Kathir had several mentors who inspired him to improve his art. Shivaraj from Cuckoo Forest School was one of his first gurus who introduced him to the world of books.

“He gifted me a book by Vincent Van Gogh. The Dutch post-impressionist painter’s articulation of Western art helped me concentrate on minor details, which can make a lot of difference. Shiva anna also introduced me to artists from Chennai and took me to various art galleries,” he says.

One of the artists liked his work and got him a job at a regional magazine in Tamil Nadu. Working as a cover designer for five years was the turning point of his life.

Kathir then went on to design book covers for noted Tamil authors like Sujatha, S Ramakrishna, Bala Kumaran, Jeyamohan and so on.

In 2018, Kathir’s life took another turn after he received a call from IAS officer and collector T Udhayachandran from the Tamil Nadu Text Book Corporation.

“They were looking for a designer who could design quirky covers for children. It was a proud moment for me when the State Board approached a school dropout to design school textbook covers. My prayers were answered,” he chuckles.

Kathir has so far designed over 400 book covers for students from Classes 1-12. He now works at a designing lab in Nungambakkam, designing textbooks.

When asked his secret recipe behind designing attractive covers, Kathir answers,

It should have a message disguised under the creative image. It is not very difficult to design such covers. I only have to think like a child while doing so.

The Way Forward

Kathir wishes to start his own art classes to help children who cannot afford expensive sessions. In addition, he also wants to develop Tamil font styles.

“There are thousands of font styles available for the English language but very few for Tamil. I want to work on newer font styles,” he concludes.

As for his family’s financial condition, it has improved significantly, especially since Kathir’s work is now being recognised. 

Also Read: How a Small Udupi Eatery Started by a School Dropout Became a 300 Cr Food Chain!

Here are some colourful textbook covers designed by him:

You can get in touch with Kathir here.

(Edited by Shruti Singhal)

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Savera hote hi nikal jaate ghar se
Suljhane woh apne mehnat ki paheli
Wakai mein mehnati hai ye Dharavi
Karte hai sab hi yaha kal ki tayari

Bachpan se atrangi sab hai yaha
Mehnat karenge par jhukenge na

Mere hood jaisa kuchh nahi

The sun is setting down in Mumbai, and the local trains are abuzz with the crowd going back home. The roads are busier than ever as the city that never sleeps comes to life. At the backdrop of this never-changing scene, Nil, Prathamesh, Rakesh and Yogesh meet at their usual Shivaji Park adda. As soon as you catch a glimpse of them, you will be able to guess their passion correctly.

They have their jackets and caps on—even though the Mumbai weather is hot as ever. Bandanas on their wrists, neck or forehead and stylish first copy shoes. The rappers from Dharavi are practising their latest track in the public park.

“We don’t want the sympathies. We want people to look at our talent because frankly, we have loads of it,” replies Prathamesh Ghodke one of the Mtown Breakers, when I asked him about their backgrounds and the struggles they face daily.

M-town breakers came together towards the end of 2016 when Manas Dhiwar, a Hip-Hop choreographer from Dharavi, Mumbai, grasped the potential of the four rappers who consulted him individually. The common thread binding them together? All of them wanted to create a revolution of sorts through their songs.

“MC Prat (Prathamesh’s alter ego) did not know the other rappers. They would consult me because I am an experienced hip-hop artist. The boys were rapping their issues away but at a very personal level. In 2016, I decided to bring them together as M-town breakers,” Manas shares.

The breakers are not just a rap group. Instead, it is a 10-member crew of b-boy dancers, beatboxers, singers and graphic artists coming together.

Their latest song, ‘Mere Hood Jaisa Kuch Nhi’ is an excellent example of how all these talents come together to voice their struggles, their passion and their idea of home.

Except for Manas, who dropped out of his bachelor’s degree to pursue his passion for hip hop, 9 of them are students, struggling to learn the notes and chapters to score well in exams. Prathamesh also helps his mother in her tiffin service business, finding whatever little time he can, to write and rehearse.

“We all have different issues to raise, and we find our voice in rap,” MC Prat says. “All of us are between 18 to 22 years of age, and although we come from the same part of Mumbai, we have seen different worlds growing up. For example, I found my voice in rap when the horrible Nirbhaya rape case happened in Delhi. From that point onwards, I have been voicing my dissent against issues of women’s safety, financial scams, poverty, and road safety, among others.”

Nil and Rakesh, on the other hand, have more personal issues to raise, and Yogesh is a comical rap artist. There are punches in his composition that take the rap a notch higher, shares MC Prat.

Taking inspiration from artists like Naz and Eminem and in the case of Prathamesh, the struggles of his single mother; the bantai bundle them all into lyrical, catchy raps.

You may also like: Inka Time Aayega: Liked Gully Boy? Then Check Out Northeast’s thriving Hip Hop Scene!

If you have seen Gully Boy that took you through the gallis of Dharavi and introduced you to the world of these underdog street-style rappers, you may have already seen Prathamesh and Manas. They featured in two tracks from the movie – Aapna Time Ayega and Meri Gully Mein.

You might believe that the cameos were their call to fame, but truth be told, it is their compositions and videos that have already catapulted them into the limelight.

Give them a try if you are a rap-admirer, you won’t be disappointed.

(Edited by Saiqua Sultan)

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As a child, my mornings were always a disaster. Chaos ensued as my mother would try to feed me rice balls before the school bus arrived, while I would slip out in the verandah to observe the nicer and quieter things in life.

Leaning off the ledge, I would often be mesmerised in the perfectly symmetrical white patterns drawn on the red oxide floor of my neighbour’s porch.

Sometimes I would catch a glimpse of Amma Dida (a culturally intermixed nickname for grandmother), and how her frail figure, wrapped loosely with a white saree, bent over in a balanced position, moved with her wrinkled hands to create complicated intersecting lines of beauty. In a meditative trance, she would take a pinch of white powder from a bowl and create a new design, every single morning.

At our home as well, my mother drew similar (less geometrical and more floral) patterns with a paste of rice flour and chalk. Sometimes, I would try and replicate Amma Dida’s designs, which she informed me, was known as Kolam.

Although, at home, we would call refer to it by its Bengali version, Alpana.

What made the Kolam stand apart from Alpana or Rangoli designs was the sheer complexity and the dexterity of the artist to draw geometrical patterns that somehow intersected in perfection.

Many years later, by accident, I stumbled upon the well-researched concept that the labyrinthine loops, curved lines and hexagonal fractions with flower motifs hidden inside. I learned that it was not just an illustrative prayer to a Hindu deity, but much more.

According to Vijaya Nagarajan, a professor at the Department of Theology and Religious Studies, University of San Francisco, it is a metaphor for harmony.

In her 2018 book, Feeding a Thousand Souls: Women, Ritual and Ecology in India, an Exploration of the Kōlam, she explains how the act of drawing a kolam is considered an offering to all beings.

The powder, made of rice flour, is safe for ants, birds, bugs and insects to eat. So that every morning, the household can start its day with a ritual representing generosity.

The art form is said to have originated in the Indus Valley Civilisation around 2500 BC, although there lies some dispute about the same. The term ‘kolam’ represents beauty, embodying the absolute symmetry of lines around a grid of dots and natural motifs like leaves and flowers.

The process usually begins with a grid of dots, which enables the spatial precision to achieve symmetry. In Hindu philosophy, a dot or point is a symbol of the cosmos—where all creation begins.

Interestingly, owing to its complexity, mathematicians and computer scientists like Marcia Ascher, a professor emerita of Mathematics at Ithaca College, have been studying it as an unusual example of the expression of mathematical ideas in a cultural setting.

In her ethnomathematical research (a field of study combining anthropology and mathematics), Vijaya adds, “The kōlam is one of the few embedded indigenous traditions that have contributed to the western mathematical tradition.”

From pictorial visual language called ‘array grammars’ in computer science, to knot tradition in mathematical theory and even infinity, there are more than 20 kinds of different mathematical principles embedded in kolams, she adds.

Elucidating fundamental mathematical principles, Vijaya writes how the symmetry of Kolam art involves recurring fractals in the designs, that have been repeatedly compared with mathematical models like the Sierpinski triangle, a fractal of recursive equilateral triangles.

What remains a wondrous mystery is how women like Amma Dida, without formal education and no knowledge of mathematics beyond simple counting, have been able to create and recreate such complex patterns for hundreds of years!

Also Read: Brilliant! Hundreds create Longest Ever Alpona in Kolkata for Mahalaya!

(Edited by Shruti Singhal)

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The clock struck 5, and the doorbell rang. She peeked from the kitchen and called out to wait. Securing the lid, she placed the pressure cooker on the gas stove and ran to open the door.

Instantly, a group of young women hurried in. With a sparkle in their eyes, they set up their instruments amid laughter and giggles galore. Someone rushed to the kitchen to fetch a chimta (tongs). She then wrapped a pair of ghungroo around it, fashioning it as a desi tambourine.

After a few minutes of tuning, the music began.

This is how the mornings for an all-female mission rock band, Meri Zindagi, begin. The venue is the home of lead singer-songwriter, Jaya Tiwari, in Lucknow.

Apart from their unique approach to music, what sets them apart is the subject of the songs, as all of them revolve around social issues, especially those about women. They feel that their music has a mission to make India better.

“We are a bunch of simple, middle-class women who juggle their ordinary lives with the extraordinary. We wake up early and finish our jamming session by 7.30 am, and move on with our jobs, housework or college. We sing, play and do household chores all at the same time, and we love our lives!” shares Jayam in conversation with The Better India.

‘Dreaming ke pressure cooker ki seeti ko bajney do… Kajal chudi bindi jhumke payal se sajney doo.. Mere hausalon ke shankh naad bajney do bajney do bajney do…’

A few lines from their new song illustrates the daily lives of these and many more women. Jaya says that all her songs draw inspiration from their common lives—the whistle of the pressure cooker is a wake-up call to dreams, to get ready and face the world head-on.

“For women, be it in any field, success is never easy. We have big dreams and bigger hurdles to overcome. So every day is like a battle. This song represents that journey, where much like the battle clarion call, the whistle wakes you up to be ready for your daily battles so that one day you are victorious!” adds Jaya.

This is among many other topics addressed by the UP band, which is already gaining quite a fan-following across the country.

From girl-child education, female infanticide, women farmers, child marriages, domestic violence and eve-teasing to more generic social issues like anti-smoking have found musical interpretation in the band’s work.

“In Uttar Pradesh, one out of five girls is subjected to child marriage. Their dreams and ambitions decay and die after this. We wanted to portray issues like that in our songs. These issues need to come out of intellectual circles or big conference halls into the open, amid the common people. And, we are happy that we can do so, and that our audience values our lyrics and music. In many of our performances, they even begin to sing with us, making it a more interactive experience of awareness and entertainment,” says Jaya. She has a PhD in music and has been a radio jockey for more than five years.

Meri Zindagi began in 2010 and has undergone several changes with many of its core members taking a backseat.

“After a number of downfalls, I managed to resurrect the band in 2013, with three more girls. But, two of them had to step back due to personal reasons. Over the years, this has happened several times as many women can’t continue the band because of pressures from family or in-laws. But, we like to think of this band as the safe space, a ‘maeka’, which no one leaves. It’s just that our family keeps growing,” the 38-year-old composer shares.

Apart from Jaya, the band has four more members now.

Niharika Dubey (28) plays the synthesiser; the guitarist Poorvi Malviya (22); Anamika Jhunjhunwala (17) on the drums; and vocalist-cum-percussionist Saubhagya Dixit (20)—all grooving to catchy tunes in their pink kurtas and sarees, their symbolic attire.

Youngest among them, Anamika is still in school and has been playing the drums since she was eight. When Jaya learned about her exceptional talent, she requested her to join; she is now an integral part of the band and jams via Skype every single morning.

Constant support to the band, Niharika, a radio-jockey, was Jaya’s student and among the first few people to join. After her, many others have followed, some could sustain, while others had to move on.

As Jaya puts it, the doors and windows to the band are always open!

So far, the band has composed over 70 songs, which include jingles for All India Radio, UP Mahila Police, CRS – Gurgaon Ki Awaz and Women Power Line 1090. They have also done more than 100 shows, both in rural and urban areas. They have also initiated a few successful campaigns like ‘no sutta’ (anti-smoking), #humkaalehain (prejudice on colour) and #maaki (against derogatory female-centric slangs).

Jaya proudly adds that despite being primarily driven towards female-centric issues, their fan base has a substantial male population as well.

Also Read: Meet ‘Guitar Rao’, an Engineer Who Quit a Cushy Job to Give Music Lessons for Re 1!

“The issues we raise affect not just women, but men as well. And that is why our band has so many male supporters. At the end of the day, gender equality is not about shifting oppression from one group to the other. It is about eliminating it,” she concludes.

(Edited by Shruti Singhal)

Check out one of their songs here:

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Whether on functions in the colony or Ganpati Visarjan processions, Mahim boy Elvis Mascarenhas has danced for as long as he can remember. But when his friend introduced him to the dance-comedy “You Got Served” that swayed around Hip Hop, his interest in pursuing dance more seriously was piqued.

“I grew up in a lower-middle-class home in Shahunagar. So the internet was a luxury. I only had the TV at my disposal, and I would look at dance videos, and replicate the moves. But when I tried the steps in “You Got Served”, I realised it was difficult. I then started researching the dance form at cyber cafes.”

When he went to Chetana’s College in mid-2008, he was able to learn hip hop from other dancers.

“I practised a lot. Winning college competitions boosted my confidence. That was the beginning of my journey to becoming a trained dancer.”

Namrata Wittke, on the other hand, had a successful eight-year-long career in the TV industry, where she worked as a producer for biggies like Balaji Telefilms, Zoom television, and Reliance. A heartbreak pushed her to find solace in dancing. Though she may have begun as merely watching and sometimes grooving to Salsa Nights at Zenzi in Bandra, today, she is a dancer of international repute.

Namrata and Elvis have been dance partners for more than eight years and have been running Rare Grooves Dance Company for the last three years. But why are we speaking about them?

Because this dancing duo has not only represented India at global dance summits but also won accolades there. Competing with top dancers from more than 45 countries at the World Dance Summit in Miami, 2018, Elvis bagged the gold in the solo men’s ‘Rising Star’ category, and Namrata won second runners-up in the freestyle category. Elvis also created history as the first Indian/Asian to win the Solo Category at the Summit.

The World Salsa Summit

A dream for most Latino dancers across the world, the World Salsa Summit in Miami is one of the oldest and most prestigious world championships that take place annually.

The Better India (TBI), got in touch with the dancing duo to document their journey.

Beginning

After winning several competitions representing his college, when Elvis graduated, his mother, like all parents, asked him to settle down with a job. She believed that dancing couldn’t be a secure full-time career.

But Elvis wanted to pursue dancing and started exploring options. Hip hop was relatively new to Mumbai at that time.

His first big break came in 2014 when he won Dance @Live, the national Hip Hop championship and represented India in the same championship at the international level in Taiwan. Competing with more than 32 countries, he emerged among the Top 6.

“When I approached the newspapers, they told me my story doesn’t have any masala,” laments the international champion.

He also realised he wasn’t getting the guidance he required in India and had to often rely on YouTube. One of the lowest points of his career was when he was diagnosed with a low-spine injury that almost ended his dancing dream. After a break of two years for extensive physiotherapy, he learnt the dance form—House, for which he later competed in House Dance International, NYC and emerged Top 8, and later Top 4, in Juste Debout Paris 2016.

After this, he was introduced to Salsa.

“I used to think hip-hop was the best dance form, and the performers knew exactly how to groove and had the best moves. But Salsa opened a whole new world. Similarly, my array into other forms like Bachata, Kizomba, etc. helped me flow free and be parts of different worlds all at once. It wasn’t just about the moves, but the history, its origin, culture, and even the spiritual aspect of dance that transformed me.”

For Namrata, the journey to Salsa began with heartbreak.

The 32-year-old who hails from the small town of Kanpur came to Mumbai as a student. After completing her post-graduation from Xavier Institute of Communication, she had a successful seven-year-long career in several production houses. The opportunity came in the form of the Director of Salsa India walking up to her at Zenzi during one of the Salsa nights asking her to be a part of the company. Though she had quit her job, she was still freelancing with a few production companies at the time. Besides, when she told her parents about wanting to quit to pursue dancing, the first reaction was disbelief.

“I was a senior producer and drawing a comfortable salary. I danced through school and college but never looked at it as a career option. So wanting to quit it all to dance seemed like a considerable risk to my family. Though there was initial hesitation, they extended their support. So I joined Salsa India. It was at the time I met Elvis.”

You May Also Like: Abhyas Galli, Mumbai’s Iconic ‘Study Street’ That Has Shaped the Careers of Thousands

Meeting and being paired up

The duo met at Salsa India in Mumbai. While Elvis had auditioned and been selected to teach hip hop at the company, Namrata was already training there. Elvis was presented with the opportunity of learning Salsa for free, as a company employee. It was only a matter of time until the duo was paired for their sense of rhythm, chemistry, technique, and passion for the art. From setting up routines, winning festivals and dance battles to now representing India on the world stage, they have been setting the stage on fire for more than eight years now.

They travelled to New York and lived there for close to four months, where they were introduced to the World Salsa Summit.

“One of the major differences that I found in training in abroad as opposed to India was, whenever I had questions about how a particular move came about or why certain techniques were used, my curiosity was never satisfied here. But when I travelled to train in New York, I got extensive exposure not just to the art but the story behind the forms too.”

The duo’s win at their debut World Salsa Summit in 2018 was a significant boost for India. It takes dancers years to win in the competition, given its level of competition, the lineup of veteran judges and experts.

Even as dancers from other countries had rows of supporters in the audience, yelling their names and waving their flags, Elvis and Namrata were the only two Indians.

When asked if they had expected to win, Elvis says, “People compete for years, and the chance to win in the first shot is almost nil. I had no expectations to win. But I did my best. It felt good to look at myself on the big screen; almost a dream come true.”

“It was surreal,” said Namrata.

The duo is eyeing the Asian Games in Japan in July next. They have been shortlisted, and if it all goes well, they will be able to represent India at the prestigious platform.

“Whether it was our training for global competitions or running our dance company, we have spent all our time, energy and savings to keep our dancing dream alive. We wanted to participate in the Summit this year too. But frankly, we could never collect the finances to go again. We could either use our savings to train more and upgrade ourselves to go for the competition,” says Elvis.

In a final message to aspiring dancers, Namrata says, “If you are passionate about dancing, put in all the hard work you can and persist in following it, regardless of what naysayers have to say. Several dancers today train for eight months and open dance studios, which according to me, is wrong. I danced for eight years and am now teaching an advanced level class. Even veteran dancers abroad never shy away from going back to class and upgrading themselves. That’s what helped them reach where they are. So focus on your art and don’t compromise training.”

If you want to extend financial support to this exemplary dancing duo, get in touch with them at esoul4@gmail.com

You can check out their Rare Grooves Dance company on Facebook here.

Connect with Elvis on Instagram here

And with Namrata here

All image credits: Elvis & Namrata.

(Edited by Saiqua Sultan)

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At the crack of dawn, Vikram Sampath made his way through the crowd behind the Red Fort. He walked past the colourful roadside stalls selling everything from clothes, shoes, to the best of wrist watches, and stopped right in front of a small shop parked at the corner of the chaotic street.

The kabaadi (scrap) shop hardly had room for one person to sit. Looking at the owner seated on piles of newspapers, cassettes and old gramophone plates, Vikram, an admirer of classical music, felt sad.

As he rummaged through the clutter, he stumbled upon a gramophone record of Mahatma Gandhi. Titled Spiritual Message of Gandhi, the recording was done in London during a round table conference in 1931.

Reminiscing about the day he found the priceless recording in 2013, Vikram tells The Better India,

My heart nearly broke when I saw that plate amidst the clutter. Seeing our cultural inheritance treated badly, I wondered how much of our history and heritage must be covered in dust only because there is a dearth of preservation resources.

Coming across that shellac record lying unattended wasn’t a first for Vikram. In fact, it is in Chor Bazaars and second-hand and scrap dealing shops across the country that he found most of the precious vinyl and shellacs.

Today, more than 15,000 gramophone records are a part of the Archive of Indian Music (AIM), an organisation started by Vikram to digitise and preserve some of the rare recordings from the pre-radio era.

His collection include artists from music, cinema, theatre, Carnatic classical, and folk, even political rallies during the freedom struggle. From Janki Bai of Allahabad, Gauhar Jaan, Bangalore Nagarathnamma, Mehboob Jaan of Solapur, M S Subbulakshmi, Bhimsen Joshi, and Zohra Bai, several vocalists and musicians can be found at the AIM.

Vikram credits his love for music and initiative to preserve the divine voices recorded in a gramophone to his childhood, parents and maternal grandmother.

Music entered my life when I was merely four-years-old. I had a keen ear for anything musical like songs and jingles. My grandmother recognised it and put me into Carnatic vocal music classes when I turned five.

Besides music, Vikram grew up on history books. His interest for history would often take him to the Mysore Palace where he would learn about the Wodeyar dynasty, “I was spurred by interest to know the stories of Mysore’s royal family.”  

He studied about one of the longest ruling dynasties for nearly ten years along with juggling his academics in Bengaluru. He joined BITS Pilani and SP Jain (Mumbai) and then went to work at many leading multinational firms before dedicating himself to this project.

However, his near and dear ones encouraged him to utilise the knowledge and write a book on the dynasty. In 2007, his first book, Splendours of Royal Mysore: The Untold Story of the Wodeyars was published.

It was during the research for the book that Vikram learnt about Gauhar Jaan. She was the first Indian voice to be recorded on a gramophone in 1902. Tawaaif Gauhar Jaan had lent her voice to over 600 records and travelled across the world. 

For his second book on Gauhar Jahan, Vikram went to Berlin on a visiting Fellowship at the Institute for Advanced Study.

“Since she was a tawaaif, there was hardly any material about her in India. In Berlin I chanced upon her recording.. Her recording made me curious about the gramophone plates. I visited multiple Sound Archives in Europe,” says the 39-year-old.

He adds, “Two things stood out for me during my research—all the European countries I visited, had National Sound Archives and secondly, the number of valuable recordings of Indian artists. As a student of music, I would be embarrassed every time someone would ask about India’s music archives since we did not have any.”

During his six-month fellowship, Vikram learnt the technique of digitising the records and upon his return to India in 2010, he formed an elaborate plan to establish a music archive.

He met several government officials for his proposal but all in vain. Finally it was T V Mohandas Pai (then with Infosys, and now, chairman, Manipal Global Education) who agreed to give Vikram seed funding to set up the archive. His parents came on board as trustees.

With time, stalwarts in the Hindustani and Carnatic classical field like Bombay Jayasri, Shyam Benegal, Sonal Mansingh, Shyamala Bhave, Alarmel Valli, Chinmaya Gharekhan and Nandini Ramani gave their valuable inputs and helped Vikram expand.

He procured the necessary machines and started digitising the songs from the original analogue form of a 78 RPM or a Vinyl disc (EP or LP). The archives are kept in Manipal and the International Institute of Information Technology, Bengaluru.

So far, Vikram has digitised 6,000 plus tracks that are uploaded on SoundCloud so that people can access them from anywhere for free.

Since 2011, he has also curated several exhibitions across India where people listen to the songs.

The response from people has been overwhelming, says Vikram, “There are five lakh followers on SoundCloud, which shows that people are interested in knowing about our music history.  We had not expected this when we started.”

Also Read: ‘Palace of Fairies’ to ‘Lost Hill of Faces’: 12 Hidden Heritage Gems in India You Need to See!

As for the future, Vikram hopes to expand his initiative and involve researchers and academicians who can study the material collected by him over the years, making it interesting and accessible, especially to young people.

If you wish to contribute to Vikram’s collection or donate, you can write to him at vikram.sampath@gmail.com.

(Edited by Shruti Singhal)

Images courtesy: Vikram Sampath

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SaPa, the Subramaniam Academy of Performing Arts, is the brainchild of Bindu and Ambi Subramaniam. The sibling duo has been using the power of music to empower young lives, generate optimism and level the playing field.

The duo has a great legacy—they come from the family of the legendary violinist-composer Dr L Subramaniam and the famed singer Kavita Krishnamurti Subramaniam. Their own talents are excellent additions.

They could have very well focused on their stellar musical career. Instead, they made an informed choice to give back and share the joy of music with the community.

SaPa aims to make musical education of the highest quality accessible and expose aspiring artists to music from all over the country and the world. Children from all backgrounds and as young as three can fall in love with music, and develop deep connections with their teachers and friends.

Bindu and Ambi actively took over running the organisation in 2011. They continue to expand its mission and bring music to more underserved communities.

Currently, the ‘SaPa in Schools’ programme works with 25,000 kids in 50 schools across five states—Karnataka, Tamil Nadu, Andhra Pradesh, Kerala, and Maharashtra. They recently spoke to Shrunothra Ambati and Venky Raghavendra about their passion and dream to scale this further.

Q. You have been focused on reaching out to students from underserved communities/government schools. Can you share a specific example that has touched you and made you feel that your programme is making a difference?

Bindu: I first went to Geddalahalli Government School in Karnataka in 2017 for a workshop. The children were shy and hesitant but captivated by the music, they were enjoying themselves. Ambi and I decided immediately that we wanted to work with the school long-term, and we were very lucky that the principal was supportive. It has now been a little over two years since we started working with them, and the transformation has been very powerful. It’s wonderful to see how confident they are now, and how music just resonates through the school.

Ambi: The headmaster of the Government Higher Primary School, Whitefield, saw value in our programme. He was glad that children had an opportunity to learn music, and how it was benefiting them in other areas as well. For instance, they were calmer and working more efficiently in groups. The confidence they [the children] built from learning music was translating into other academic and non-academic areas of their lives.

Q. Music is an integral part of your family. You could have continued to build your careers, but you decided to start this programme instead. Why?

Bindu and Ambi: We had the opportunity to grow in our careers as musicians because of our parents’ vision. They were passionate about teaching us diverse musical styles and ensured that we interacted with some of the most reputed musicians from around the world. They made music an integral part of our lives, and we strongly identified with that vision—to nurture the next generation of passionate musicians.

We noticed that there is no set standard for music in the syllabus and that it is seen as an add-on subject. In 2014, we started the ‘SaPa in Schools’ programme to fill the need for a structured music curriculum in schools across the country.

Today, studies point to the need for 21st-century skills like teamwork, empathy, and communication in the workforce; and music is a gateway to building these skills. It also helps children develop language skills and absorb subjects like math and physics. We wanted to provide a comprehensive curriculum to help them appreciate music and develop their sense of cultural literacy.

Our experiences as performers helped us grow as teachers and what we took from teaching made us better performers.

Q. How have your parents influenced you and the way you run the programme?

Bindu and Ambi: Being surrounded by great musicians since we were born, we sort of assumed that it was normal. We assumed that every musician was a great musician, and that was the bar we set. Mediocrity was not an option.

We’re lucky to have been exposed to different genres of music even as children and it helped us appreciate the diversity in the industry. So even if we’re not playing a particular style, we enjoy it. We wanted to ensure other children got this exposure as well.

Q. What are each of your roles, and how do you draw on your individual strengths to work together on the programme?

Bindu: We don’t necessarily divide our work into individual roles; there are some spaces where Ambi takes the lead and others where I do. We divide our work according to our skills and interests, which works well.

Ambi: Over the years, we’ve cultivated a great working relationship because we’re aware of each other’s strengths and are willing to take a step back and let the other person take the lead when necessary. We’re also respectful of what the other brings to the table—musically as well as in terms of managerial qualities—this helps us navigate smoothly. Ultimately, we take all major decisions as a team.

Q. How do you maintain the high quality of SaPa while also expanding your reach?

Bindu and Ambi: As we expand, we make sure that we are involved in the core of what SaPa stands for—quality music education. Our team helps with administrative and operational matters so we can juggle all the initiatives. However, we continue to write the textbooks, plan out the curriculum every year, conduct teacher training sessions and workshops at schools.

We are also in touch with the teachers delivering the programme so we understand how it is received and what we can add each year. This helps us keep our standards consistent while also continuously being in the ‘what next’ mode.

Q. How do you measure the impact of SaPa thus far, and what markers do you consider while determining success?

Bindu and Ambi: We measure our success based on the number of children who love music enough to consider it as a career or perform at various events. We’re particular about non-competitive excellence; we want students to grow into successful artists consistently, over time.

Another marker is the success of our teachers. Are we creating a platform where young musicians and educators can pursue their passion? Are we helping them nurture the lives of thousands of children through this passion?

We also look at the retention rate in our partner schools to determine how far we have come. Till date, we’ve been very happy to see a high rate of school and teacher retention, which means they see value in what we’re offering.

Q. Please elaborate how your programme helps students outside of their musical abilities.

Ambi: There are plenty of studies which show the benefits of practising music in grasping other subjects like math or science. Parents and teachers have also told us that children with special needs can connect to the classroom activities better through music, and that it helps them be calm.

We have been told that there is a rise in overall cultural intelligence since our curriculum teaches music from various regions and encourages students to understand its role in different cultural contexts.

Bindu: I was recently chatting with Lakshmi, who has been teaching at the Parikrma Centre for Learning for over two years and was touched to hear stories of progress. After introducing the students to music, we saw the students grow. One boy, Krishnamurthy, seemed disinterested in the classes, but we realised that he needed a confidence boost. Now that we make sure he has a platform to perform at school events, he is much more participative.

A few students told her that they now sing the inaugural prayer song at festival celebrations. They are appreciative of these classes, especially because it is an opportunity for them to learn singing in different languages and try their hands at composing and songwriting. It gives them confidence.

Q. SaPa has already is already impacting some communities and students. Where do you see it going in the next five years?

Bindu and Ambi: We’re delighted to see that SaPa has been well-received by kids; our dream is to bring in the next generation of musicians and see our current students take centre stage as they grow.

We would like to empower more people who are passionate about teaching music and provide them with a stable platform, making sure that we reach aspiring teachers from economically disadvantaged communities as well.

Our long-term vision is to expand our ‘SaPa in Schools’ programmes to institutions across the country and open more centres. However, one of the markers of our growth in the next five years will be the building of a community of educators.

Our idea is simple—if you don’t have powerful teachers who can encourage children, everything loses meaning.

Q. What are some of your current challenges? As your organisation grows, what are some obstacles you anticipate?

Bindu and Ambi: We know that it’s not easy for aspiring music teachers to tell their families that they would rather be in this industry. Unfortunately, parents see a more “stable” long-term career in engineering or law, so we offer them counselling. We see that they eventually come around once they have a chance to understand how SaPa works, but it remains a big challenge.

As we grow, it also becomes important to set up new administrative standards and processes.

Q. How are you mobilising the resources to run the programmes?

Bindu and Ambi: As far as financial resources are concerned, it’s definitely a challenge to get the charitable funding we need to grow and run the programme. It’s something we’re working on continuously. We usually hire our teachers and administrators via word of mouth, and have found great talent that we have retained for years.

Q. What differences, if any, have you noticed between students learning music in privileged communities in comparison to underserved students in your programme?

Ambi: As far as musical abilities are concerned, there is plenty of talent and raw potential in children from both communities. However, we see that children from underserved backgrounds retain a sense of wonder longer. They tend to be more appreciative of any and all opportunities, as compared to children from privileged communities.

That said, at the end of the day, a child is a child. Depending on their environment, there may be differences in how they are taught to think and learn, but once you get past that, they all react to music in the same way.

Shrunothra Ambati is a senior at Wellesley College, majoring in Economics. She is the Co-Founder and Chair of the Board of her non-profit organisation, MetroHacks. It empowers high schools students with practical computer science education and fosters an entrepreneurial spirit.

Venkatesh “Venky” Raghavendra is a social entrepreneur with over three decades of experience in philanthropy and development. He has built global partnerships and mobilised significant resources for a number of international and national organisations. Venky was formerly the Chief Philanthropy Officer at the New York-based American India Foundation and is now Vice President of Advancement at Safe Water Network.

(Edited by Shruti Singhal)

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