Rock Star

When I moved to Chandigarh from Bhopal in 1984, I was invariably asked two questions — had I visited Nek Chand’s Rock Garden and had I met Dr BN Goswamy? Both represented the leitmotif of excellence for the city, and were part of its heartbeat. Dr Goswamy had been my teacher and played a special role in moulding me. On the other hand, I wasn’t curious to explore Nek Chand’s Rock Garden, as in my mind’s eye, it conjured up images of immovable rocks and boulders. When I eventually visited the place, to say I was gobsmacked by its awe-inspiring scale and the boundless imagination of its creator would be an understatement. Its undulating pathways, its whimsical figurines and waterfalls had me wonderstruck.

Soon after, the Rock Garden became an extension of my home and an everyday chakkar to it and chai with Nek Chand became mandatory.

The first time I met Nek Chand was at his office within the precincts of the gardens. In the courtyard leading to his office, mounds of misshaped rocks and stones, and broken pieces of debris seemed to suggest the detritus of a forgotten civilisation, reminiscent of an archaeological site.

Inside, the walls of his office were lined with non-functioning clocks, musty memorabilia and sepia-coloured photographs and certificates haphazardly hung like a surreal installation. These artefacts were covered with a gossamer of cobwebs, adding to the feeling of being in a fusty cave.

Working with the government as a road inspector, in his mid-thirties, Nek Chand would pedal his way after work to the city’s governmental dump. This garbage-littered abundance became the sub-soil of his existence. Sifting through piles of broken plates, shards of glass, defunct bulbs, cracked sanitaryware — the fragments of waste which had been rejected and thrown from offices and homes nurtured his imagination.

Transforming waste materials into works of art, by recycling, added to the possibilities of building an oppositional space in the well-planned city of Chandigarh, a direct contrast to the formalised rigidity of Le Corbusier’s architecture.

But let us for a moment imagine a young man, slightly built with well-oiled hair, cycling under the cover of darkness towards a mountain of industrial waste, home waste and discarded items, the flotsam and jetsam of the city. There, illuminated by a single bulb or a burning tyre, he hammered and fashioned magical figurines from stuff that had been thrown out. This lean man, burrowing through the city’s discard, gathering the waste as raw material and escaping surveillance is mystifying. How the authorities missed the interlinked courtyards, the water bodies, the flora and fauna and the sculptural array of figurines for two decades is puzzling. The trucks that came to dump garbage must have noticed this unusual activity, how come they did not report the matter?

Was Nek Chand an innocent? Did he not in any way recognise the seriousness of his action, as even garbage and dumping grounds belong to the government? Or was the creative impulse so strong and powerful that caution was thrown aside? Who knows! If one had to study the history of Chandigarh, the starting point for me would be the Rock Garden. In a certain way, it subverted the idea of a well-planned city, and became a place where you could dream, sing, paint and reflect. In my heart, I was convinced that despite his modest demeanour, there hid in Nek Chand a closeted anarchist, who threw a cultural bomb on the city — by creating an alternative universe.

His nocturnal activities remained unknown until 1973. A chance visit by the anti-malaria team brought the matter into the public eye. At the time of its discovery, his garden had expanded to 12 acres. Recognising its cultural and artistic value, local authorities decided to support and fund its continuation.

But before that, he had to face a fusillade of allegations, from cheating to fraud, with the more serious charges of tampering with governmental property. This was truly the drama of the absurd.

The progressive MS Randhawa, an art historian, botanist and the then Commissioner of Chandigarh, saw a garbage dump transformed into a magical garden, and recognised its immense potential that would add to the city’s cultural and artistic scene. His support led to the legitimising of the garden and its creator.

The Rock Garden epitomises a fresh approach to modernism. Nek Chand’s work disturbed the monolithic singularity, through which modernity is viewed, by providing an alternative viewpoint. A huge achievement for a man who functioned outside the networks of art school, formal art training or gallery patronage.

Nek Chand opened a dialogue within me. Questions of how we look at trash flooded my consciousness. What happens to material that no one wants anymore? Do used objects carry their own history? How did Nek Chand get an epiphany in the midst of dereliction? His story reads like a ‘rags to riches saga’ and could be read as a racy-pacy thriller. Nek Chand is also acclaimed for his role in environmental art and in the recycling movement. He demonstrated how art can transform urban spaces and engage communities. His vision and creativity also underscored the values of sustainability and resource reuse.

Most of my work I did in Chandigarh was showcased in the open-air stage located in Phase I of the Rock Garden. The porous coal rocks used to build this amphitheatre created a natural acoustics system. The entry to the stage was through a narrow, winding staircase, making the entry and exit extremely dramatic. The elevated platform at the far right became a perfect space for the musicians to sit, with branches of the bamboo tree providing a natural canopy. A shallow pond at the end of the stage added to the overall ambience.

I claimed the theatre as mine and it is to Nek Chand’s credit that not once did he burst my illusionary bubble of ownership. ‘Tussi malik ho, jad jee chahe aayo (You are the owner, come whenever you wish)’ was his answer. He not only made me and my cast and crew feel welcomed, but also provided endless cups of tea and platefuls of pakoras in the middle of the night.

Like a rag-tag army, we would arrive weeks before the show and exult in our good fortune to have this magnificent space all to ourselves after the garden was emptied of its daily visitors. Rehearsal schedules can be fairly chaotic and Nek Chand was always there, no matter how late or cold it may have been. Invisible and non-assertive, he sat on the edge of a parapet, observing, non-intrusive but alert. Yes, he was indeed ‘the master of the manor’.

Despite its magnificent atmosphere, the amphitheatre comes with a whole set of problems. Perhaps this is the reason why it lies unused most of the time. Everything has to be hired. Lighting grids, generator, fumigation, cushions for the seating along with battling the sudden appearance of creepy crawlies.

The zig-zag pebbled narrow pathway can be dangerous as the rush of people before a show creates its own problems, especially when the vagaries of weather lead to unexpected showers or a storm. Despite these impediments, the alchemy of water, rock and foliage creates magic that cannot be found in any theatre of the world.

The journey through the Rock Garden is filled with surprises, giving one a sense of being on a pilgrimage. The low arches, the varied textures, the eclectic mix of figures, animals, objects, plants, grassy tracts, majestic waterfalls, wishing wells, guards and policemen — with meanings sometimes difficult to decode, but each person can create her own narrative. Experience the diverse texture and smell the aroma from the trees that have been planted with an intuitive understanding of ecology and horticulture.

It is difficult to create any analysis of Nek Chand’s work, as no template can parallel his magical kingdom. He created his own context and references. He was a magician and a poet who transformed beautiful and delicate objects from waste with a tongue-in-cheek playfulness. I could see qualities of a Henri Matisse in some of his dancing figures, and his elongated women reminded me of women in Amedeo Modigliani’s paintings. Nek Chand’s use of material was post-modernistic, yet the fact that he was never acknowledged in the pantheon of Modern Art in India is a question that needs to be asked repeatedly and in all seriousness.

When I think of Nek Chand, I think of Auguste Rodin’s ‘The Thinker’. The sculpture makes us reflect on the meanings we assign to our lives and the choices we make. I can see Nek Chand sitting on a huge boulder in grand isolation, surrounded by infinite emptiness, mixing water and cement to make astonishing figures and animals from the relics of civilisations.

— The writer is a Chandigarh-based theatre director