’Art & soul
A picture of the South

Spread over 10 acres, Dakshina Chitra is a living museum of lifestyles, says B. N. Goswamy

I was there for a seminar on mural paintings just a few weeks ago — a thoughtful, stimulating event — and walking those lovely paved paths between elegant but unpretentious structures again. I knew the place, and had been there before, but this was truly the first time, staying as I was on the campus, that I was taking in the place in its entirety. I speak here of Dakshina Chitra, that island of an uncommon mix of calm and energy, that lies a few kilometres from Chennai on the coastal road to Mahabalipuram. The name translates roughly into ‘A Picture of the South’, but does not quite describe it. One could call it, as it often has been called, ‘a crafts village’; a "cross cultural living museum of lifestyles", as it is sometimes designated; or, simply, a ‘heritage centre’ perhaps. But as it functions, it is all these things and a bit more. There are not many places like it, at least in India.

One thing comes across clearly, even to the most casual visitor to this sprawling, green campus spread over more than 10 acres: that a place like this can have been born only of a clear vision. That vision belonged to Deborah Thiagarajan, an American anthropologist and art historian married to a Tamilian gentleman-industrialist, who moved to India nearly 40 years ago. The story of her life, and new beginnings in India, has been told several times in interviews and articles: of how she first became involved with the villages of the South as a nutrition expert, but got increasingly drawn to the countless skills and crafts that had begun to languish in them; how she conceived the idea of a Madras Crafts Foundation; and then dreamt this big dream of founding "an interactive centre", as she says, "highlighting the art, craft, architecture and folk performing arts" of the four southern states: Tamil Nadu, Kerala, Karnataka and Andhra Pradesh.

The dream was not easy to realise, for the land she needed for a project such as that, in those surroundings, could only be given by the government, and there she was, doing the rounds of sarkari offices. As one journalist who wrote on her said: "She must have made an odd picture sitting in the cluttered corridors of the government office: a tall white American, in a salwar-kameez, file in hand, waiting to see the officials week after week, for a whole year." But sit there she did, as she says, till she got what she wanted: 10 acres of sandy land outside the city.

What followed was quite wonderful, for so many people started chipping in with money and ideas, and, surprisingly, doing actual work on the site. She found out that there were others — foreigners and locals alike — who loved India and Indian villages, and who worried like her about disappearing skills and lifestyles. Laurie Baker, the celebrated architect, for one, who designed the major part of the complex; Malcolm Adiseshiah, Indira Kothari, M.V.Subbiah and others who served on the board of the foundation; Benny Kuriakose and Vikram Parchure who helped with construction both with brick-and-mortar and with ideas: Deborah remembers them all with fondness and gratitude. Some of the things that were done required both daring and imagination: like identifying buildings on the point of decay or abandonment in different parts of the South which could be bought, dismantled, and painstakingly re-constructed on the Dakshina Chitra campus. It was not easy: the first building she bought and dismantled had to be stored for five years before being re-built here. But now they are all there: the majestic, century-old Chettinad house with its spacious courtyard and elegant pillars and exquisite woodwork; the house of a weaver from Kanchipuram; the adobe-and-thatch hut of a basket-weaver; a ‘Hindu’ house from Travancore; a Syrian Christian house from Kottayam; even an Ayyanar shrine featuring the guardian deity of the village. And each house or structure is ‘occupied’, so to speak, not by any inhabitants but exhibits. There are wonderful textiles on view, and kitchen implements, and old furnishings. In the Chettinad house this time I saw a remarkable show of paintings on glass. Everywhere there is kolam decoration on the floors, done freshly every day by the dedicated staff of the place; skilled women sit in courtyards teaching visitors how to fashion animals out of simple leaves; rush mats are woven and simple pots can be seen getting made. Each time you are there, you learn something: you can watch, you can converse with the artisans, you can participate. And, of course, you can buy in the exquisitely kept crafts-shop or from the crafts-bazaar where rotating craftsmen, invited from different parts of the country, display their wares or demonstrate their techniques. Then there are all those imaginatively mounted teaching and research programmes, which Dakshina Chitra has instituted: an arts management internship course, workshops, and seminars. Any visit to Dakshina Chitra can take the better part of a day, but then it yields an experience that is rich and lasting. And, somehow, fragrant. Unlike some of the faux ‘village-type resorts’ that are being put up in our part of the country.

"I wanted to create an awareness," Deborah Thiagarajan says, "to put everyday culture in an upmarket situation". And in this she has succeeded. She adds: "The centre has both villagers and new age consultants working together, and they are all committed to culture. And I think that’s the reason it works". It was tough going along the way, however. Twelve years in the making, from the time she conceived the idea. But there has been no looking back. It was on the 14^th of December, 1996 that Dakshina Chitra opened its gates to the public for the first time. It was a rainy day, Deborah recalls. But, as we know, there was, inside, a lasting shelter for ideas and imagination, and commitment.

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