Weave logic for India.

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Size. It’s that four-letter word that Crafts Atlas of India author Jaya Jaitly seems to have overcome with élan, while working on this tome, which can best be termed as overwhelming, at first glance. Or even later. The social and political Indian activist and founder of Dilli Haat in the capital took it upon herself to document India’s crafts since the early 1990s. What ensued was a challenge that traversed milestones, boundaries, language, castes, communities and above all, an exhaustive diversity which, in her own words, was near impossible to encapsulate due to its sheer vastness and fluidity. In an email interview, Delhi-based Jaitly revisits this fulfilling journey, the many stories that bind tradition in India, its near-forgotten arts and why creativity is intrinsic to our culture.

The crafts map of West Bengal features the jharna patachitra and Kalighat forms of folk art combined by artistes Bapi Chitrakar and Bahadur Chitrakar. The gods at the upper end of the painting signify that festivals provide all artisans with work throughout the year Pics courtesy/ Crafts atlas of India

Tell us about working on this atlas.
I am not a scholar and my knowledge comes from associating with crafts people and their skills for 45 years, in different parts of the country. I began the concept and coordination of creating a series of crafts maps in 1993, till 2010. Inputs came from different artistes and researchers (including me). To create this atlas, I had to rewrite it all and add to the brief textual material provided on each map. Each year we did two or three maps till all the states were covered. Overall, it is my project but many people worked as a team to get the final result.

A weaver in Andhra Pradesh weaves Pochampali ikat in bold colours and graphic designs.

Conceiving the idea is one thing, but to anchor this humongous project from start to end, is another — how does it feel, looking at the final product? How did you ensure you were able to oversee every element of this book? How long did the entire process take — right from ideation to the final product?
The maps took from 1993 till 2004 for all states except Delhi, which was done in 2010 for the Commonwealth Games. Monuments were added in the last map at the request of Delhi Tourism. As for anchoring it, well, I take one step at a time rather than envisaging something huge all at one go, which becomes difficult to implement. The art works took three-four weeks, the texts took three-six months from researching, travelling, writing and editing; while typesetting and printing took another three months. That’s how each map was done. It took two years to rewrite all the texts from sketchy travel guide language to proper chapters. The photos have largely come from our own collection (my organisation, Dastkari Haat Samiti) and were captured during work we have created, designed or identified. When complete, it does look like a huge work but it came together in stages that took quite long.

Women in Karaikkudi in the Chettinad district of Tamil Nadu process, colour and weave palm leaves into baskets.

Initially, I made maps for students and travellers who could not afford expensive books but needed to be given knowledge about crafts. After the maps were all done, people suggested they should all be in a book because the art works were beautiful. Many artistes became famous after having worked on a map! The enthusiasm and suggestions of the publishers made it text-strong and with plenty of photographs, so that it finally became like a directory or compendium of crafts in India. I am really happy it is finally done. If it gets a good response from art, craft and India lovers across the world, my satisfaction will be complete.

A cow depicted in Sanjhi paper art from Uttar Pradesh

Which states were most challenging and time-consuming to document? Why?
Rajasthan, Odisha, and Uttar Pradesh had the most crafts and textiles to document. Art forms were difficult to find for Haryana, Punjab, UP and the North East because traditional representative art could not be easily found. Maharashtra was tough going as it is more industrialised, with a few art forms left.

In fact, one of the most interesting facts that emerged in our journey was that India had so many art forms that there can be no such thing as a single defining Indian “art” applicable to the whole country.

Paithani handloom saris are woven in silk and floral patterns

India’s different tribal communities amount to a minuscule percent of our population — yet their contribution, as is evident from this book, is immeasurable. How can we ensure that their treasures continue to remain in safe hands for the coming generations?
They need opportunities to showcase their work with respect, and multi-faceted platforms that give them dignity and exposure. We neglect our treasures (people and their art forms) because of a sense of glut, apart from callousness toward our own cultural heritage and marginalised societies.

What, according to your observations, has ensured that these forms have managed to survive centuries and generations?
The caste system has locked many artisans into their known skills without having allowed upward mobility into other fields. In some cases, this has been a strange saving grace. The British ignored those skills, which provided no competition to their industrial products, and therefore left them alone. The strong cultural rooting of our practitioners is another reason they have hung on to their skills.

Tell us about the breathtaking design of this book. Every chapter on a different state exudes a different texture, symbolic of its art and craft.
I wanted a contemporary feel that would attract young people who like dynamism and colour instead of staid classical design elements which are there in plenty already. I also wanted to convey that crafts are forever morphing within their own cultural space. I am happy that you feel this comes out in the design. The real credit goes to the graphic designers who put all these ideas together.

Any interesting discoveries along the way that emerge for their uniqueness, be it attention to detail, nature of material, method of work or any other aspect?
Gosh, that’s a question demanding a long answer! Maybe I can name some as general discoveries over the years. Our traditional textiles, to a large extent, have meanings in their designs, use of colours, motifs, and even according to who should be the wearer. Even the poorest of the poor (men and women) like to bring creativity and beauty into their lives by fashioning artistic things out of everyday utility objects. Fine carvers and artistes enjoy intricacy of design and will go to the extent of carving a tiny bee sitting under a leaf. Small seeds and even dal grains are used to make jewellery, displaying a strong sense of recycling and use of natural materials.

Better details will emerge from reading the book. I shouldn’t spoil the fun!

Crafts Atlas of India, Jaya Jaitly, Niyogi Books, Rs 4,500

ZOHRA SEGAL ( FATTY)
By kiran segal

Zohra Segal: ‘Fatty’ is the story of the talented actress, in the words of her daughter, Kiran. It takes the reader through the life of Zohra, her early days, her tours, her marriage, life in London and return to Delhi, where she now lives. Her performances, both on stage and screen, have been absolutely memorable.
This book is a loving tribute to Zohra, now hundred years old. Accompanied by photographs and an occasional sketch made by the young Zohra, this is much more than a collector’s item. For, Zohra Segal is the rare combination of talent, hard work and zest. Hers is a full life, a life that truly needs to be celebrated.
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THE AUTHOR
Kiran Segal is one of the most innovative and outstanding dancers/choreographers of Odissi today. She takes a sincere interest in inculcating an awareness in Odissi dance among the youth; her lecture demonstrations, workshops and talks have taken this ancient dance form to the remotest corners of India. Kiran has performed in forty-one countries all over the world and has also participated in major dance festivals.
She has been honoured with several titles and awards for her dedication and contribution to Indian classical dance, including the Sangeet Natak Akademi Award, given by the National Academy of Music and Dance, 2002; the Padmashree, presented by the President of India, 2002; the Neelamadhava Award, 2002; the Kala Shreshtha Sammaan, 2000; the Indira Gandhi Priyadarshini Award, 2000; the Nritya Vilas, 1993; the Nritya Saraswati, 1991; the Parishad Sammaan, Delhi Government, 1986; the Shringaar Mani, 1979 and the Kala Mani, 1976. In 2011, she was given the Meri Dilli award for her contribution to culture.
Kiran’s single-minded and deep-rooted attachment to dance has led her to establish Pallavi—Odissi Nritya Sangeet Vidyalaya in New Delhi where she imparts training and grooms young dancers. Some of her disciples are and have been recipients of scholarships for dance from the Ministry of Culture and the Government of Delhi. Several others are now based in the USA, the USSR and the UK.
She continues to look upon Odissi dance as a guiding force in her life.
Specifications:
Size: 276 x 216mm
Binding: Hardcover with Dust Jacket
Paper: 150 gsm matt
Page extent: 168
4 colour
Photographs: 127
Illustrations: 6
ISBN: 978-93-81523-35-3
Price: INR 1250 / £19.99 / $38
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TRIOLET
by Dipanjan Rai Chaudhuri


Why does a love-struck young man lift a living corpse who stares with infinite contempt at man and all his works, including god? The homecoming of a peasant revolutionary after years in prison departs from the expected scenario right from the beginning. What is the secret which almost destroys the hero and all his human relationships? What is the celebrated musician waiting for as age dries up his music and his body tries to clam up his spirit?
Dipanjan Rai Chaudhuri searches for answers in another triplet of short novels, probing the human condition in indifferent city streets and turbulent forests, looking at forms of love and betrayal, with the spotlight turning on a whole spectrum of emotions from black despair to euphoric optimism.
Each of the three short novellas in Triolet has a plot racing through an air almost of fantasy, across stark cityscapes and turbulent forests, dealing essentially and always with the human condition, the myriad-coloured skies between hopelessness and hope, love and betrayal.
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THE AUTHOR
Dipanjan Rai Chaudhuri, born in Kolkata in 1944, studied Physics at Presidency College in the turbulent late sixties and early seventies. Physics and the fight for democratic rights alternated as dominants in his life, with literature emerging from the background after his retirement as a don at Presidency, and a quest for improvement in teaching methods, especially in science and mathematics.
He has two slim volumes of poetry in Bangla to his credit, an influential tract on education, a publicist’s diary called Sovereign are the People’ along with a number of research papers in Physics printed in the foremost peer-reviewed international journals. Before the current offering of three novellas had come another such triplet called A Triptych.
Dipanjan Rai Chaudhuri lives in Kolkata with his wife. They have a son and a daughter and three grandchildren. As pains and aches start constricting his activities he puts more time into his project of a contemporary Bangla novel in three parts, the first of which has recently been published.
Specifications:
Size: 216 x 140mm
Binding: Paperback
Paper: Book printing paper
Page extent: 104
ISBN: 978-93-81523-05-6
Price: INR 195 / £4.99/$8.99
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novel ~ the point of vanishing

‘Open your mouth – the first mistake.’ Hui-Neng

PROLOGUE
The Story that Wants to be Told

The story starts from silence. Silence permeates the house. It radiates from out beyond the window, beyond the woods, beyond the Great Bear sparkling in the frosty air.
Silence is sovereign. Out of silence comes the story of a journey. It is born fully formed, immense. Yet entering this world of sound and hazard, it struggles, is plundered, reforms and one day dissolves.

A while ago, I lived for four years in the central highlands of Brazil. A bunch of us were trying to build a more or less sustainable farming-based community. We were in the middle of nowhere. The nearest telephone was two and a half hours distant; we had to hike for an hour, fording waist-deep rivers with our baggage, then drive for an hour on rough tracks to the nearest hard-top road, then still another half-hour to a village with one shop and two bars – and a phone.
Sergio Bernardes, a documentary film director of many awards, came to visit us. One evening, sitting round the fire, he asked me in English, ‘What are you really doing here?’
Sergio was a big presence. He had wild shaggy hair and a difficult face showing sadness and happiness together. It looked like it had slipped off a cliff. His head and torso belonged to one sort of man, his legs and his feet to another, less rugged man.
I said, ‘I’m on the journey that each one of us must make at some stage in the cycle of our births and deaths.’
‘Journey?’ he asked.
‘The search for truth,’ I replied, ‘The truth of who we are.’
He paused for a moment, considering. Then he said: ‘Would you write that story for me? A script of the journey for us to film.’
‘The truth that can be told is not the truth,’ I quoted Lao Tzu at him.
‘Then make it allegorical,’ he said across the flames.

Now he’s dead; I heard the news last week at the London Festival of Brazilian Film. The story still wants to be told. Woven with it is another story of the life from which it came.

* * * * *

Once upon a time that’s always now, a ruler who was searching for the Way invited all the artists of his realm to paint a picture that would enlighten and delight him.
When a year had passed, the ruler and his ministers visited the workshop of one artist who had stayed behind closed doors. His studio was bare of furnishings save for a carpet of exquisite hues. One wall was covered by a mighty painted landscape.
The ruler stood entranced and motionless. He saw the image of a changing sky above a vast and rolling land. He let his eyes scan fields and wooded slopes, moors and marshes, forests, plains and mountains. Sometimes, within the scumbled paint, he thought he saw the hint of wildlife; sometimes it seemed as if the clouds were moving and faint shadows passed across the panorama. As he stood the ruler felt a stone roll from his heart, something of his youth and innocence revive.
For a long time there was silence, broken only by the flagging wing beats of a yellow butterfly against the window pane. A cat crouched below, waiting to spring.
At length the ruler turned towards the artist at his side. He gestured to a path that started at the bottom of the picture. It wound a drunken route through hill and vale into the distance. ‘Tell me, honoured artist, where does this path lead?’
The artist answered not a word. The cat leaped at the butterfly and someone raised a startled hand. Once upon a time that’s always now, the artist took the ruler by the arm, and side by side they stepped into the picture, growing ever smaller till at last they disappeared from sight.

Book One
The Point of no Return

‘Am I dead or am I dreaming?’ The two men had been walking without talking. The Ruler strode out like a young man with the sap flow in his veins. ‘This place is paradise.’ The grass, shaved short by wind and herbivores, gave off a slickish sound each time a foot was raised. ‘Am I drunk or am I drugged?’
‘Probably yes to each of them.’ The Artist was smiling
‘Back there was hell. What are you saying?’
‘Aren’t we all somnambulists. Stumbling in the dark. Anaesthetised. Living a lifeless existence.’
‘Some of us just get on with it.’
‘A life of hell?’
They were merely coloured specks, tiny movements in a vast unpeopled land. The morning dew still sparkled on the mosses clinging to the old stone walls on either side of them.
‘What are we doing? Where are we going? What do you want from me?’
The Ruler slowed his steps. He did not hear the skylarks’ song cascading from the deep blue sky or see the fading web of vapour trails of passing jets high overhead.
‘They’re after me,’ he said. ‘Fear, mistrust and anger are the climate of our country.’ His arm grew heavy on the artist’s. ‘Messages appear from nowhere, “The Ultimate Revolution is at hand.” My security people are baffled.’ He looked behind him then back at the artist. ‘We need to keep moving. I did the best I could. Where are we going? Who are you anyway?’
‘Looks like I’m your guide along the way.’
‘Guide? Why do I need a guide? Where does this path lead?’
‘Do you want the right answer or the true one?’
‘Tell me the right one so I’ll know it’s wrong.’
‘This Way takes us to a meeting with ourselves. It is the path that every seeker has to take. In this life or another. And my name is Streamer.’
‘But Streamer, I’m not seeking anything.’
‘Even paradise?’
‘Victor. Call me Victor. I just don’t want to live in hell’ The Ruler’s own words seemed to throw him back to a bed of nettle memories. For a while he walked erratically, blundering and stumbling. ‘What do you mean, meeting ourselves?’
‘Finding out who we really are. Seeing our true nature. Becoming conscious of the vast unconsciousness that runs us. Look! See how green and beckoning this prospect is? Yet the Way will take us through dark regions of our inner self. Where dragons guard our secret treasures.’
‘Treasures? Are you crazy?’
‘Treasures that are everybody’s birthright.’
‘Now you make it sound attractive.’
‘We live in an age of piling up darkness. Now more and more courageous souls are striking out from every corner of the globe to live the dangers of this Way.’

India’s Legendary East Coast
INDIA’S LEGENDARY EAST COAST
by P.K. De

India’s Legendary East Coast takes readers on a kaleidoscopic journey starting from the delta of the Ganga on the Bay of Bengal and extending up to Land’s End at Kanyakumari in the south. The region’s much splendoured history, together with the picturesque landscape of the various places that it traverses, makes it distinctive and unique. This is veritably the sacred coast of this great country, the secular coast of the religious where lie numerous holy places of pilgrimage, belonging to different faiths and being respected equally by all.
Peppered with folktales, myths and anecdotes, the book sweeps the reader along with its accounts of India’s coastline, closely interwoven with the many strands of legends of the country’s hinterland. It has an old-world charm, making it interesting to those who love to travel to lesser known places on India’s eastern coast.
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THE AUTHOR
P.K. De has worked as Photo-Officer, Ministry of Tourism, Government of India (Delhi), later taking charge as Deputy Director, Photo Division/Press Information Bureau. He was also Photo Editor to the international journal published by the Ministry of External Affairs, Government of India. He has been writing for several leading dailies and prestigious journals on Travel and Tourism, and has contributed photographs in several books by reputed publishers. P.K. De was conferred the Associateship of the Royal Photographic Society of Great Britain and the International Federation of Photographic Art, Paris. He is presently working on his next book, The Himalayan Deserts.
Specifications:
Size: 225 x 150mm
Binding: Flexiback
Paper: 150 gsm, matt coated
Page extent: 160
Photographs: 130
Map: 1
ISBN: 978-93-81523-12-4
Price: INR 595 / £14.99 / $19.99
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OUTSIDE INDIA RS/ 1200
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