Art and Culture
by Suparna Saraswati
Clay: colours and creations
“Jussa rooh de baajh drauna E, sand baajh jiveny ghumiar nahin...” (a potter without his instruments is like a body without soul) — “Heer Waris”.
THIS classic piece from Waris Shah’s famous ‘Heer’ rightly depicts the character of a potter. Even though each artist is distinct from another, the commitment towards his work mixes him alike in many respects. The ongoing “Maati Art from the Earth,” studio pottery fund-raiser organised by the People for Animals, Chandigarh, has portrayed the similarities and dissimilarities in the art of ceramics of India’s finest women potters.

SIGHT & SOUND

Priya Rajvansh, the adored Shimlaite
By R.P. Chaddah
PRIYA Rajvansh died under mysterious circumstances in Mumbai in the last week of March, 2000. A whole lot of memories raised their head and I found myself transported to the Queen of Hills, Shimla, where Vera Sunder Singh, Priya’s real name, was a senior student in circa 1955 in a famous college (the alma mater of Hindi screen villain, Prem Chopra) and I was a stripling 15 odd years “first year fool”.

Beneath Birmingham veneer
By Nonika Singh

TRENDY turquoise blue sweatshirt, an elegant designer watch, latest model of mobile gizmo — the paraphernalia is complete. All symbols of modernity, in this case are the visible signs of NRI affluence. But scratch the surface and the Birmingham veneer falls off with a thud. What emerges is our own desi (to a fault) Malkiat Singh the inimitable Bhangra Badshah who prefers to converse in chaste Punjabi.

Nonchalantly Malkiat Singh states, “Though it’s been 16 years since I left my homeland to settle in the UK, the alien cultural influence has simply passed over my head. It’s been like throwing water over duck back”.

Taken aback by the cataclysmic changes in the Punjabi musical scene, he asserts that today music has become the fiefdom of the moneyed class rather than gifted singers. About the undue emphasis on western instruments he remarks, “Out there in the West, people are turning towards folk, whereas in India remix has come to rule the roost”. So much so that his own number Gur nalo ishq meetha... touched popularity charts only when Bally Sagoo, the remix king, enthused life into it. Last year Virgin Records too released his album Best of Malkiat Singh in a remix avatar.

Malkiat Singh muses, “Music is like a fashion which comes and goes like waves. What is in today will be obsolete tomorrow and Indians too will return to their own home grown music.” Conscious of the wide chasm between “East is East and West is West” not only in geographical terms, but more significantly in tastes, he has consciously held back the release of his several audios in the Indian market. So an audio which relied upon three folk instruments — toombi, dhol, harmonium — was confined to the boundaries of the USA, Canada, the UK.

Come to think of it even Tootak tootak tootiyan..., which created history of sorts, wasn’t his debut album, only the first to be released in India. During a chance trip to dhabas in rural Punjab where he heard the pirated copies of his albums, he knew India was ready for him. As for the maddening hysteria that Tootak..., generated, blurring the distinction between song and the singer, he jokes, “At times I felt I must-re-christen myself as Tootak Singh”.

The strength of the number, which instantaneously catapulted him on to the bandwagon of success, he recalls was the judicious blend of infectious beat and simple lyrics. Never mind that most listeners thought it was some inane mumbo jumbo, the singer is adamant that Tootak... refers to shatoot tree and its blossoming heralds romance in the air.

Meaningful lyrics anyway, Malkiat Singh he feels are a vital ingredient of music. So Maavan thandyian chaavan..., Maavan deeyan seesan de sahare putt vasde pardes... flowing from his own pen are close to his heart. In fact, his dream project is to knit together the lyrical gems of all-time greats like Amrita Pritam, Surjit Paatar and Dr Mohan Singh and make listeners sit up and become conscious of their cultural heritage.

Though he doesn’t deride the present genre of singers, he is dead against the adulteration of Punjabi language with smattering of Hindi. He questions furiously, “If the aim is to universalise Punjabi music, then I too can intersperse my songs with English and make Punjabi music global”.

A product of Khalsa College, Jalandhar, who won gold medals in folk music, Malkiat Singh has been singularly inspired by late Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan with whom he shared a special relationship. As a tribute of sorts to the great maestro, he went all the way across the Radcliffe line and recorded an album featuring the same set of lyricists who often wrote for the legendary singer.

But for these occasional indulgences, he is aware of market pressures and his latest track includes eight numbers of various moods and hues catering to different age groups. To market it, he has resorted to the promotional gimmick of videos even though he strongly feels that a good voice can’t be kept down for long.

Malkiat Singh says, “My songs became popular even though people had neither seen me nor knew my name.” But today judging by the success of present crop of singers, marketing has become an essential imperative.

So is singing at public functions. Malkiat Singh admits, “Ideally a singer must sign only at concerts, but tell me how many concerts or shows can a singer garner” In order to meet his rising graph of expenses, he consents to sing‘n’ dance at private get-togethers even at a grave personal risk to his security”.

In a reply to a query whether artistes are paid unbelievable sums for making their presence felt at private parties, he retorts, “The astronomical price-tags affixed to certain singers based on sheer speculation are like a double-edged sword. On the one hand it puts him on a pedestal, but on the flip side it prohibits people from approaching him for works thus debilitating his career”.

But then, stardom anyway isn’t a smooth trek but dotted with sacrificial altars. One price is infringement of privacy. Plus the glare of arc lights creates many a dissension and suspicions between the singer and his loved ones. Nevertheless, toss a coin and invariably — irrespective of the price — stardom wins. So Malkiat Singh is all agog with excitement, unfolding his plans to create a magnum opus in Punjabi cinema. Of course he will be acting in this home production. Earlier too, he had a dalliance with the world of histrionics in Preeti Sapru’s “Mehndi Shagnan Di”. But this time over, he promises a rare movie of international standards to be shot in foreign locales mirroring the plight of immigrants.

Be it music, poetry or films,the singer who went away in 1984 and has sung in 26 countries is as rooted as ever. Extremely conscious of his Punjabiyat, the raison d’etre of his life is serving its cause.

Art and Culture
by Suparna Saraswati
Clay: colours and creations

“Jussa rooh de baajh drauna E, sand baajh jiveny ghumiar nahin...” (a potter without his instruments is like a body without soul) — “Heer Waris”

THIS classic piece from Waris Shah’s famous ‘Heer’ rightly depicts the character of a potter. Even though each artist is distinct from another, the commitment towards his work mixes him alike in many respects. The ongoing “Maati Art from the Earth,” studio pottery fund-raiser organised by the People for Animals, Chandigarh, has portrayed the similarities and dissimilarities in the art of ceramics of India’s finest women potters.

Out of this artistic conglomeration, an interaction with four of the ceramic designers, namely, Leena Batra, Monica Thakural Kohli, Ela Mukherjee and Bani De Roy, projects the nature and multi-dimensional character of this exhibition-cum-sale. A qualified interpreter of Hindi and Urdu and a keen listener of Hindustani classic music, Leena, the Russian potter, had her “initial experience with ceramics purely by chance”. Her small collection of high-fire porcelain candleholders, “Raku” jars and bottles, reflected of her philosophy towards the medium. “Clay is therapeutic”, she says. “I work with forms, a lot. Mine are sculpturally decorative pieces, whether in porcelain, stoneware or Raku.”

In her assortment of conical, slender-necked flasks with tapering lids, Leena has shown the architectural resemblance of the famous St. Petersberg palace. Her relentless search is amply visible in the breathtaking glazes achieved in multiple firings, copper and cobalt oxides used in Raku. She has ensured a unique position among the studio potters of India. Having exhibited extensively, her works are found in collections in India, Europe and America. As Leena puts it. “Interactive experience such as “Maati’ helps us in creating the clay bodies”.

The show was brought to Chandigarh on the tiny shoulders of the youngest artist of them all, Monica, who is a seasoned potter. Her interest in ceramic was a genetically acquird one. Trained by two gurus, Rachna Prashar and Ray Meeker of Pondicherry fame, this shishya is of the view that traditional roadside potters are more gifted than their studio counterparts since they are “born into clay”. However, “they are not very creative with respect to form and glazing which gives pottery life”. There has been a change in her recent works as a result of her visit to Japan. This is seen in her collection of Soya Pots with soft glazes, stamped stretched-out clay, humped moulds large in size, and the entire range of flame-proof kettles and casseroles. She is of the firm opinion that there is a strong interaction between the pot and the potter, which is the driving point for each artist in his world of creation.

To many, Ela work of arts appears too abstract and beyond, as compared to the rest of the collection. Yet, for keen art lovers it is a tremendous cerebral expose of her own conceptions regarding Indian mythological traditions combined with modernity. Ela’s ‘Kaali’ is a perfect example of the sort of appliances she uses and their consequent effect on the art object. This Calcuttan is a potter with a difference whose displays usually consist of stunning earthy moulds designed in tall small-holed jars.

This unique quartet of potters would be incomplete without the grand, old lady of the show, Bani De Roy. At 69, this artist has a remarkable ability to wheel out one clay wonder after another especially her famous platters. It was her 10-year sojourn in Japan that initiated her into the world of studio pottery. Hers is a typically minimalistic response to ceramics and is marked with a great understanding of clay, its shapes and glazes. In her own words, “Cut-work painting and finding out glazes is the passion in my work which is stoneware ceramics.” Bani’s poise and inherent calm is self-evident in her pieces, which have the trademark of simplicity and elegance.

It would not be incorrect to state that City Beautiful has been enriched by this highly aesthetic exhibition. ‘Maati Art from the Earth’ is now on at Art Folio Centre for the Arts, Sector 9, Chandigarh.

Sight and Sound
by Amita Malik
Rushdie, Rushdie all the way

It seemed impossible that anyone could offer competition on the media to Hansie Cronje. But Salman Rushdie almost made it. If not in terms of space, certainly of display. And his was a much happier, more relaxed and emotional story. The long-lost son returns home. Surprise meeting with aunt Uzra Butt. Welcomed with open arms by almost all. He even termed the demonstrations against him valid in a democracy and “civilised”. Goes with son on a sentimental journey to the family home in Solan. A lovely script and everyone fell into the act. There were two aspects to the Rushdie coverage. Because of security reasons, exclusives, in fact even press conferences were mostly unplanned. And the random comments by a relaxed and highly articulate Rushdie in hotel corridors for five minutes or the unplanned one just before the Commonwealth awards ceremony, lent his utterances a quality of spontaneity, spoken in easy witting and elegant language, which made things much easier for the media for whom he was clearly the interviewer’s delight.

However, because of the restrictions, and because everyone had planned the same questions, after a time his answers became repetitive. Those five of us who had the privilege of an informal chat with him around a table in a small room were able to cover many aspects of his writing which were not discussed in open forums. But it was a closed circuit meeting and not a press conference otherwise it would have resulted in coverage which would have been different. Pity it did not.

I shall therefore give the Oscars for the Rushdie coverage to two media familiars, Sunil Sethi and Dibang. It is not generally known that Sunil is a literary person, a collector of books, an avid reader and stimulating when it comes to discussing books. A side of his personality which has got smothered in general anchoring, which tends to make cowards of us all as we forget our real selves and worry about the TV image. I have always maintained that Sunil is at his best when he is being himself. And that is precisely what he was when talking to Rushdie. Gone was that fixed smile, he smiled gently, laughed at times, and sometimes looked worried or compassionate as he took Rushdie through his experiences during the troubled years. His questions were thoughtful, at times unrehearsed, he never interrupted, he spoke exactly as he does in real life and not the mannered style he normally affects on TV. It was a class interview and that Rushdie is the interviewer’s dream lifted it into a rare class of its own. Bravo, Sunil.

Dibang, on his part, operated on a totally different and very, very important plane. He got Rushdie to speak in Urdu in Aaj Tak, which Rushdie did with relaxed ease, only very occasionally lapsing into an English phrase here and there. What was very important about his answers was that they took head-on his critics among Indian Muslims. He repeated that he was an Indian Muslim whose family were practising Muslims. He spoke frankly about the Satanic Verses and said it was a pity people had criticised him without reading the book. He said nowhere had he said that the Koran was written by the Devil and almost challenged them to disprove that. About the controversy, he said “Yeh bandh kar dena chaiye” and asked for a new beginning. I feel that Doordarshan, which telecasts Aaj Tak, should re-telecast this interview not only on its Hindi-Urdu channels but also in translation on other channels so that it reaches Muslim audiences across the country. On my part, I must congratulate Dibang, someone who came all the way from faraway Arunachal, got into a prestigious English magazine first, then perfected his Hindi and took to newscasting and reporting, which he does with imagination and verve. No small achievement.

Tailpiece: I would like to end with a reference, which is long overdue, to the TV magazine TV World, from the Zee stable, which I have been reading since its inception. TV magazines are a very unpredictable proposition in India, because I think the majority of TV viewers do not read magazines. I have seen them come from the most classy stables and then vanish without a trace. While I appreciate the effort, I feel it should keep a better balance between popular and serious stuff and avoid being so Bombay-based, or should I say Bombay-biased. I certainly have enjoyed its interviews and some of its specialised pieces, such as the one on mythological serials and its Millennium Special listing the best 25 TV shows. Best of luck Deepak Shourie (Publisher) and Saibal Chatterjee (Editor). I hold both of you in high regard.

Priya Rajvansh, the adored Shimlaite
By R.P. Chaddah

PRIYA Rajvansh died under mysterious circumstances in Mumbai in the last week of March, 2000. A whole lot of memories raised their head and I found myself transported to the Queen of Hills, Shimla, where Vera Sunder Singh, Priya’s real name, was a senior student in circa 1955 in a famous college (the alma mater of Hindi screen villain, Prem Chopra) and I was a stripling 15 odd years “first year fool”.

Day after day we used get news about her winning a host of prizes in debates, declamations and dramas, which she used to enact at the famous Gaiety Theatre of Shimla, of course in the company of her “chosen few” co-artistes and classmates. She was free and frank with almost everybody in know of her, but we young students called her a “freak flirt”, of course in whispered tones.

Those were the hey days of her popularity and everybody thought that one day she would, like Kalpana Kartik and Shiela Ramani, the Bedeans discovered by Chetan Anand, land in Bombay films. Some city lotharios were so smitten by her youth, charm, energy and beautiful gait, that they started penning paeans of praise in the form of poems and dedicated their books to “Vera”. In those days she was the toast of Shimla’s literati and glitterati and also a hot topic of coffee-house gossip.

This adulation went on for two to three years and after that there came a gap in time. We Shimlaites started scanning film magazines, journals to get some news of her getting into films or into the newly set up National School of Drama et al. It was in the early 60s that news started pouring in film magazines that another Shimla girl had been discovered by none other than Chetan Anand and she had been given the screen name Priya Rajvansh. A look at the promo-photographs revealed the known face of Vera Sunder Singh, who had been trained at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts, London. This director-mentor friendship between Priya and Chetan became the mainstay of their relationship and they lived together for almost 30 years without the official bond of marriage. So Priya became the in-house heroine of the henceforth Chetan Anand movies.

Priya Rajvansh’s name ended with “H” and Chetan started his movies with the letter “H”. The first being “Haqueeqat”, the best war movie to date. Priya’s acting was superb, but the dialogue delivery in Hindi was a let-down. Priya fed on a diet of English plays of Shaw and Synge could not attune herself to master the nuances of Hindi-Urdu dialogues in the very first film. Those of us who had seen her enact on the Shimla stage in perfect nuances of the English language were flabbergasted and started awaiting for her next film appearance release. Priya unconsciously followed the method school of acting of Stanilavsky much before our Smitas, Shabanas, Naseer or Om.

Another chance, another movie, and that too in verse, and she was pitted against the then rage star “Jaani” Raaj Kumar. The movie was “Heer Ranjha”. One fine morning we came to know that the said picture is to be shot on the outskirts of Chandigarh. Some of old Shimlaites decided to visit the location site and after half an hour’s drive we were in the presence of the film unit.

There was a lull in shooting as another shot was being readied and we saw Priya sitting on a mound with all the trappings of a film heroine. All of a sudden we thought why not meet our senior classfellow of the 50s. We requested a unit member and he was kind enough to allow us to go to meet Priya.

In her presence we mumbled something like “we are from the same institution where you studied in Shimla and we are happy to see you in the role of a film artist-star”. On hearing this, her sea-blue eyes brightened and she was all smiles personified and said “Thank you, I am happy to know that you remember me” or something like that.

In “Heer Ranjha” there was a marked improvement in her dialogue delivery and she matched Raaj Kumar’s histrionics in frame after frame.

Chetan Anand made some successful and some damp squibs all starting with the letter “H” — “Hindustan ki Kasam”, “Hanste Zakhm” and the last “Haathon ki Lakeerein”, way back in 1985, with Priya in the lead. In “Kudrat” Priya had a parallel role with Hema Malini in the lead.

Priya was a recluse in her lifetime and she became more isolated from the film industry after her mentor-friend Chetan Anand’s death almost two years ago. Priya has a Chandigarh connection. She has a sprawling bungalow somewhere in Sector 5 and every once in a while she would come to stay there with Chetan Anand, when they wanted to relax and be away from the hectic Mumbai.

This is my tribute to a great stage actress-cum-film artiste whose growing career graph I watched from afar without knowing her as a person. Who knew in 1955 that one day in year 2000 I will write a humble tribute to the making of an artiste in the humdrum world of Hindi films.