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Doodh, Dahi Aur Ghee

By Manasvi Kadian March 2, 2023

Within the dichotomy of growing up in metro cities and of belonging to places far removed from them, exists the colourful void that is your identity. But don’t they say that too many cooks spoil the broth?

All of my life I have struggled with being Haryanvi. Born and brought up in Gurgaon (we will never call it Gurugram), I have seen both sides of the story–the gaon and the galiyaan of Haryana and the elitist metropolitans that exist on the fringes of it. I have always existed in the middle of these two worlds: too elite for the Haryanvi kids but too “rowdy” for the city ones, something which always left me struggling with my identity.

Stepping outside Haryana and moving away from its people, you come across a different (if you ask me, distorted) image of Haryana–its people are rude, its culture is not modern, its the land of Fortuners and doodh, dahi, aur ghee–and even though there are things that might be true, but the demarcation of the culture of a whole state as “barbaric”, for the lack of a better word, is outrageous.

Living in Delhi NCR makes you come face-to-face with a very mutated version of the Haryanvi culture. For most, it becomes a culture that is the voice of political parties and a platform for all your gaalis. It becomes an identity of the “uneducated”. “Haryana walon ke toh munh hi nhi lgna chahiye (You shouldn’t get involved with people from Haryana)” is one version of the many taunts and judgments that have come to be accepted by people over time. Schools ban you from using the language because more than being associated with a culture, it has come to be associated with a select few, who have gone on to create a specific image—one that we are all okay turning a blind eye to—and this is the image that gets carried home. “I usually try staying away from people who say that they are from Haryana. It might be prejudice but I wouldn’t want to take that risk,” said a third-year student, in conversation with DU Beat.

With a rise in an elitist crowd and an even more elitist NCR culture, Haryana has come to be that one state everyone conveniently forgets. Now, when asked, even Gurgaon is seen as being a part of NCR before it’s a part of Haryana.

But on the flip side, exists another reality, completely opposite. Adoption of the Haryanvi culture, particularly the Haryanvi language and the distinct, heavy accent that comes with it, has become a commonplace phenomenon in the Delhi NCR circuit. When you look around, you see a certain accent being used by the Delhi kids. You see that same accent find its way into the NCR, from Noida to Faridabad. From schools to colleges to drivers on the road, you find the echoes of Haryana, if not its whole culture.

This accent might be very Haryanvi, but that doesn’t necessarily mean those who use it are. Most people speaking the language or imitating the accent are imposters, romanticising the existence of a culture that is shunned by too many. This might be out of love for the culture but it ends up doing more harm than good, simply because it usually turns out to be nothing more than the appropriation of an image of Haryana and its people that is more about chaud and tora. Most people in this crowd end up using Haryana for reasons of the wrong more than of the right, trying to capitalise on this image that the other half has created of Haryana in their heads, a villain of their own making.

Stuck between these two opposing sides—in a tug-of-war of language, culture, state, and identity—sits the real Haryana. No culture is without faults of its own, but the least it can ask of people is to be true to themselves. The doodh, dahi, aur ghee are the base pillars of Haryana in its truest form, but then so are its people. A certain rise of voice here and a different accent there don’t make the culture of Haryana a monster to be feared or a beast to be tamed. To the outsider, each culture may be a specimen, and words of love can be of hatred, but it’s only Haryana that knows the love it hides behind its Bawlibooch and Bawli Tared.

Feature Image: The Tribune

Manasvi Kadian

alumni

My City: An Open Art Gallery

By Anwesh Banerjee October 15, 2022

The festival of Durga Puja is not just a celebration of the homecoming of the goddess but also a cultural bonhomie, celebrating art of all sorts. Read on for more.

Durga Puja or as we bengalis fondly call it pujo, is probably the greatest celebration of art Calcutta sees on an annual basis. There might be special art drives in the Lake area where people end up drawing twelve feet long alponas (the bengali version of rangoli but done with ground rice paste traditionally) and bizarrely absurd, politically provocative graffitis on walls along the Jadavpur campus and other upcoming up-market cafe areas. There is also the latest mandatory tourist spot – the Old Currency Building, now turned into a three floor specially curated celebration of the Bengal School of Art – from colonial times to independent India. But none of these sporadic clusters exemplify the community euphoria in viewing and consuming art the way pujo does.

It is a cultural whirlpool. Turn a corner and you will see an entire alley, otherwise dingily darkened – now turned bright and dreamy with a canopy of yellow fairy lights hanging overhead. A few more turns and you will see a variation of the same display of luminosity in terms of a street where the lights are now multi-coloured and are strung together vertically, on either side of the road. As you make your way through, it is not just a simple lane you are walking through any more. It is like walking into the dreamscape of your unposted letters of love, now strung together in the form of a million glistening light orbs. But the magicality of the moment I described – nowhere near the actual experience because pujo as a festival can only be felt – is exemplified further in areas with the bigger pandals and celebrations where the canopy is no longer just strings of light bound together. But an entire canopy put together in glorious designs and colours. You are no longer in a street you have traversed all year round. It is a tunnel of a fantasy land from another world, which self activates every year briefly and disappears – only to appear bigger and brighter the next year.

Who is the sculptor of this figure? Did this club change their usual guy? Is Sanantan Dinda doing Naktala this year or did Chetla Agrani buy him out? Why did they have to distort the face thus? Doesn’t she look too angry in this one?

A cacophony of voices asking the same questions together. Having spent so many years in the city and vehemently holding my ground before parents who would have much preferred to go on a holiday – far removed from the nauseating sweat and crowd infestations of the festival – I like many others have become quite familiar with the varied sculptural styles we see our idols built in. Kumortuli or the Potter’s Colony is the stuff of absolute photo stories across the world.

But the potters or sculptors as I prefer calling them, who spend their many years under makeshift shacks in the midst of floodwater and mud, have their own distinctive styles and contributions to the evolution of the festival as a whole. The traditional yellow face of the goddess with long draw, darkly lined eyes is still to be seen in many places, but in the larger discourse of the creation of idols, it has give way to the more humanist thickly eyelash-ed faces of the Rudra Pal brothers – who now are at the receiving end of commissions from the biggest clubs in the city.

Thousands of people flock every year to see these idols, which although unchanged in their style have served to give vision to the popular imagination of what the goddess looks like. Their figures are adorned in the traditional golden foil called the daaker shaaj or the ornament that came by post (the foil used to be imported from Germany at one point) or the pristine white of the sholaar shaaj or the ornamentation made from thermocol. Art historians will never consider this but the potters of Calcutta are the true holders of the legacy of Ravi Varma, the first Indian to give face to our gods. But even beyond these traditional portrayals there are daring artists like Bhashkar Sur and Sanatan Dinda, all exemplary modern artists in their own right who come up with visualisations of the goddess figure in accordance with the theme of the club they are hired by that year.

Which brings me to the next big thing about pujo in my city – the theme. Much before people even start their shopping for the festival, posters and advertisements proudly announcing the themes for each individual club go around the city. People sitting huddled in autos are found discussing-

Did you hear Chetla Agrani is going to be doing something based on Kalidasa? But I really liked what Bosepukur did last year- though I am not sure if I completely understood it – did you? I do not know about the rest but I am most definitely going to go to Sreebhumi first – haven’t you heard they are doing Burj Khalifa this year?

I have been to galleries and seen art installations and then I have attended Durga Pujo in my city. If cities could be works of art then the thousand and more pujos spread across the length and breadth of the city are the many brush strokes and colour splashes on its expanding canvas. I have seen, within two months or sometimes three, artists and workers make an entire temple structure out of steel utensils. Award winning clubs which have conjured simply out of nowhere temple structures out of – wait for it- knit grass blades. But this is not just a celebration of empty art. This art is deeply political too. Many high concept pujos find people crowding the exit area poring over long standees explaining the concept of the theme and the decoration people just saw. For there are clubs standing in solidarity with the farmer’s protest – with massive installations of feet joined together and the blisters resembling melting faces of the heroes we will never know. Some turn an entire lane into a brothel with extra figures of women waiting for customers and finally leading upto the room of the brothel madame who sits there protecting them all – envisioned in the form of the goddess. But sometimes in the hands of a different artist, she takes the shape of a migrant woman – carrying her four children sitting on the back of a truck, her third eye glaring at you in the face.

During Durga Pujo, my city is an open art gallery with its people turning from one lane to another partaking in and bringing to life the glorious art on display.

Anwesh Banerjee
[email protected]

Lost Land, Losing Languages

By DU Beat August 31, 2022

What is necessary – cultural unification or the recovery of culture? Read ahead as the writer weighs these arguments with her Sindhiyat experience.

“May I, a grandchild of Partition, be able to walk the streets of Anarkali…”, read a postcard addressed to the city of Lahore at an exhibition based on Partition held at the National Gallery of Modern Arts. Ghar, Zameen, Jaidad of millions, all lost in the wake of a tragedy that still largely engulfs our nation. Apart from the daily vendetta, what engulfs us more is the culture, and that, for me as a writer, is the language.

So while answering questions arising from confusion over my surname, the dialogue outside is overtaken by the dilemma inside. Sindhi? But how? Just because of the surname? Because the river after which the entire community was named is almost on the verge of drying up and the place called Sindh was left almost 75 years ago. So what’s left of all is the language, the shores of which are drying up quickly.

Even if you go somewhere empty-handed, you will take your language with you”, said my Urdu Professor.

In the case of Sindhi, I guess it travelled too long, losing its tids and bits on the way, where it got disintegrated to the extent that we only got Johnny Lever in almost all movies adding Sai at the end of each sentence in the name of cultural representation and cracking some chindi jokes. So it does make one sad when you realise the collective damage that so many of such communities have suffered at the altar of history, at the hands of those who tried to shape it according to their whims? Such whims today talk of “our” heritage, culture, and its preservation; funnily such, “our” does not aim at identifying the dynamic and diverse reality of this land but rather in the imposition of one culture, one language. That’s how politics is, the language used by poets and lovers to carve out confessions of love can be shaped fluently at the behest of ideologies to spew hatred in disregard of those very languages.

Linguistic hegemony has been a major tool for controlling the narratives, be it the attempt to impose Urdu on Eastern Pakistan– later Bangladesh, a Bengali speaking region that became a major reason for the partition of Western Pakistan and Eastern Pakistan– or the unannounced but underlying duel of Urdu and Hindi that goes on amidst the deemed “champions” of Linguistics.

In this fight for hegemony, no language appears to be a winner. Hindi imperialism does no good to Hindi with its negligence in academia or the ignored writers in the publishing scene, whose achievements are not even appreciated by these very “champions of Hindi”.

A lot has been lost already. Recovering and preserving what remains can’t be done with the imposition of one language. Attempts to promote linguistic diversity should be made with utmost necessity, not just with language centres but with the sharing of what is “ours”, rather than the imposition of what is being termed as “ours” on a national level.

Kashish Shivani

[email protected]

Social Media Vilification of the Nerd Archetype

By Anwesh Banerjee July 15, 2022

A nerd’s deeply personal take on social media vilification of the nerd archetype across pop-culture . Read on for more.

Humour is tricky business. Tracing back to the rasa theories of sentiments and emotions, every humour has an origin and the origin of our laughter too can be traced to different causalities. It can either be sourced as a something that makes us laugh through the display of deviance in an attempt to domesticate something that is wrong with society, or in what I wish to term as humour of a low order, it can emerge from a need to make a standing example of a non-conforming entity, who happens to stick out due to a deviance inherent to their character.

Such humouring of identities of “other” often unconsciously result in vilification of archetypes in popular culture which fuels social media content which on the grounds of generating humour to run their dubious algorithms end up putting on sacrificing social responsibility at the altar of parodying the non-conformist – in the case of this article the figure of the nerd. The nerd figure has long been relegated to a realm of marginality in popular imagination, one which has resulted in social media content creators to repeatedly generate humour at their cost. The normalisation of the same has become so exceedingly widespread that the archetype of the nerd figure now borders on the level of almost being a villain despised by one and all.

Take for example the widely popular film from recent years of Indian cinema – 3 Idiots. The supposedly antagonist in the film is the typical nerd figure as seen through the character of Chatur Ramalingam is repeatedly made to be the butt end of jokes due for no fault of his. He simply has a vision of academic achievement which is not in concurrence with that of the protagonist and in order to prove the point of the protagonist the nerd figure is not only made an example of the in the most vile ways possible but also made to take part in one of the most insensitive dramatisations of a rape joke in recent cinema history. Even in a film like Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani or something as cult as Kal Ho Na Ho the heroines are nerds who have their hair tied in buns and wear glasses and spend their days engrossed in books and academia. In order for them to be desirable by the hero, they have to shed their persona of the “typical nerd” and have hair flowing, while sequin dresses grace their lithe bodies. There is no room here for appreciation of a life spent behind the pursuit of knowledge – be it out of individual will or out of societal pressure, a deeply pertinent argument which is often relegated to non-existence.

Social media pages dedicated to generating humour based out of educational spaces and the lives of people involved in academia thrive on humour which emerges at the expense of nerd archetypes. Meme carousels take great pride in criticising students who spend hours devoted to studying and suffer from severe bouts of depression and performance anxiety by reducing their issues to the simplistic phrase – they are a topper and they always lie about the preparation. The truth of the after more often than not is different. The idea of the nerd as someone who deliberately gaslights their own readiness in order to feed off the mediocrity of others is a problem which completely exterminates the immense expectations – familial, societal and professional – the students have to cater to. To be someone who chooses to win and internalises winning comes at the cost of knowing that one is consciously ascribing an identity of marginality to oneself – an ascribing which should be free of any sort of shame or stigma.

Such humour further perpetuates a cycle whereby these students not only end up doubting their own self worth but are never allowed to take pride in what they believe to be a philosophy of life that must be adhered to. Humour for the sake of entertainment is of course something that should be and must be encouraged. But humour that is indulged in without realising the exact impact it has on marginal identities in society is something that should be shunned especially in our largely current virtual world where a single meme transcends time and space and more often than not does more harm than good when left unchecked.

Anwesh Banerjee

This Lonely Spring

By Anwesh Banerjee July 15, 2022

A non-resident Bengali relative of mine groaned to me on call, how he scarcely felt Saraswati Puja this year. Something seemed off, he complained. I don’t think anything was off, just that the sedentary yet meditative festival somehow got ferociously conflated into the pompous celebrations of Repubic Day this year, I chimed in with my know-it-all voice. But I was not entirely wrong in drawing this connection. Saraswati Puja or Vasant Panchami, has always been a massive cultural celebration in Bengal. Every year beyond this annual ritual of worshipping and invoking this (Brahminical) Hindu Goddess of Knowledge, Bengali students across ages are supposed to dress up in colours of Spring – yellow, ochre, orange, red, blue and the likes. It is a day dedicated to eating khichudi and begun bhaja, praying for academic wisdom and most importantly going on dates with your romantic interests.

The origins of the concept of vasant panchmi as the “Bengali Valentine’s Day” is something that is a futile exercise in the labyrinthine annals of Time. The cultural construct of this festival is now unquestioned and widely embraced and celebrated. This day, in the early morning cold breezes of January, the city wistfully turns into a liminal space of sanctioned transgressions. The best, and often most provocative, pieces of traditional finery are donned. The greys and greens of schools give way to loud pinks and bright reds of lipsticks which are hidden in purses – stolen the previous night from the mother’s dresser. Blisters from wearing forbidden heels are hardly any price for a day spent in the company of your lover, giggling your way through sidewalks and standing outside already-full-at-10-in-the-morning bars across Park Street and Quest Mall.

This year, after a brief annual hiatus, I had the fortune of being in Kolkata again for the occasion. But even as my mother rudely awakened me from my sleep to help her with preparations, an early morning disoriented me found myself almost unconsciously drawing himself to the television set first, switching on Doordarshan and sitting down brush in hand to see the live telecast from Raj- oops, Kartavya Path. The conflation of a day which, all my woke understandings of nationhood and patriotism notwithstanding, had been carefully constructed to invoke feelings of patriotic fervour in my heart somehow felt at an alien odd with the other natural emanating sense of desire and youthful fervour for this annual celebration of springtime extravagance. As post-colonial queer subjects in a world where ideas of the post-nation are at their highest, where does one erase the line between multiple registers of desire? Is militantly performed desire for the historically amenisa-inducing nation anyway similar to the exhaustive desires of love on display on this singular day? Are all desires essentially linked to performance and demonstration? If so then what about lonelinessand its performance? How do you navigate the contours of that?

As I sat in the backseat of my cab in the evening of the same day, on my way to airport to catch a flight back to Delhi in time for the 8:30 AM class the next day, I found myself unconsciously smiling at the familiar of sight of multiple young girls and boys in love – or atleast pretending to be in love. All my school days, before the pandemic took away from me the privilege (I use this word fully aware of its connotations) of attending college in person, I had been a blessed witness to the Saraswati Puja romances of my friends. The month-long plans, the carefully colour coordinated outfits, the lies told at home, the multiple tuition places to hop onto under the excuse of attending the “puja”, the innocent grazing of the fingers and the final stretch of weeping from the blisters on the ankle – I have seen it all. At twenty-one years of age, that day when I whirled past these young hearts in love at the very peak of springtime, I pondered a few moments over the politics of performing a love that is qeer. What would it mean for young girls or boys or gender non-conforming minorities to be out there, on this same day, hands clasped and in love? Would this liminal temporal space of the city embrace their transgression as willingly as it did of their heterosexual counterparts? Especially in the context of this year’s festival, in the occurrence of such a rare conflated oddity, what would one make of surveilling love in a Nation State that is increasingly intolerant towards delinquent expressions of desire?

As I sat on my aircraft, pondering about the many like me who must have spent lonely festivals of love for years on end, I found myself wishing if this Valentine’s Day our markets would perhaps for once sell not love but a soothener to the itchy aesthetics of structural loneliness.

Anwesh Banerjee

Karwaan: A DU Students-Led History Initiative

By DU Beat April 19, 2020

In a Delhi that is slowly forgetting its history, Karwaan, a student-led Heritage Exploration Initiative, aims to revive the love for Delhi’s heritage.

“We began our journey in September 2019, when we organized a heritage walk to Tughlaqabad Fort with one of the most famous history buffs in Delhi, Sohail Hashmi. Since then we have organized many walks and lectures by historians at heritage sites. Our basic aim behind this initiative is to promote historical sites among university students.” says Eshan Sharma, a second-year student of B.A. (Hons) History from Dyal Singh College of the University of Delhi (DU). Along with a team of five other students- Nishant Singh, Aditya, Abhigyaa Mittal, Mansi Rautela, Nandesh Yadav- they started the initiative. Since then, they have conducted several walks around Delhi, along with organizing lectures.

Eshan Sharma, the founder of Karwaan, said to DU Beat, “We saw that people do not remember their heritage; do not remember their origins. So, we started with discovering Delhi’s heritage along with one of the most renowned history buffs of Delhi and one of our mentors, Sohail Hashmi. We then conducted several other walks in the historical sites of Delhi.”

They noticed heritage walks in the city costs around INR 600 a walk, which is a tad bit pricey for students, they decided to keep the charges low- charging between INR 200-300 a walk, with the lectures being free of cost.

Currently, stuck in quarantine, they have been organizing a series of online lectures on history. These Facebook Live Lecture Series, which started on 4th April and will likely continue till the 30th, are talks where they invite renowned historians and scholars. Running for almost an hour daily at 6 PM, this is also an attempt to promote #StayHomeStaySafe.

“As we are all getting bored right now, we at Karwaan decided that we must do something to keep us engaged in these times. This is also when students can make the best use of their free time by listening to these great sessions. So, we decided to conduct a series of online lectures. So far, we’ve had speakers like Manimugdha Sharma, Sohail Hashmi, Rana Safvi and Vikramjit Singh Rooprai who’ve spoken on topics like decoding myths about Aurangzeb, Mughal Paintings and the fourth city of Delhi,” adds Sharma.

Operating mostly from Facebook, they choose only those historians who have garnered genuine interest in teaching students and indulging in a deep discourse about their chosen topic. Speaking of lockdown, Eshan says, “We might extend the online lecture series if the lockdown extends after May 3rd.”

Karwaan Heritage Walks, via Social Media

The diversity of Karwaan’s attendees comprises of curious professionals, other historians and students beyond the history background. Talking of Karwaan’s expedition to various historical parts of Delhi, Eshan counts Tughlaqabad Fort, Mehrauli, Qutub Complex, a walk to Chandni Chowk and Jama Masjid. Karwaan also conducted lectures on Delhi’s history which gained a huge response from the attendees. “They take great interest in exploring and discovering Delhi,” Eshan continues.

They plan on taking Karwaan to a higher level by launching their own history company in the future. “We are learning from the experts right now, we are inviting historians to the walk, hoping that someday we’ll lead the walk too.”

Concluding, Eshan reiterates, any student can join them irrespective of their educational background. “They can learn at Karwaan, suggest changes; if they want to hear a speaker, we are just a message away. This is a great way to make their lockdown worthwhile!”

Interested students can check their Facebook Page: www.facebook.com/karwaaninitiative or Instagram handle @karwaanheritage.

Featured Image Credits: Karwaan’s Social Media

Satviki Sanjay

Anandi Sen

Forgetting The Past: Neglection of Delhi’s Heritage Sites

By DU Beat April 18, 2020

On the occasion of World Heritage Day, we take some time out to point the spotlight on lesser known monuments which are rapidly headed towards disintegration due to constant neglect.

Long queues neatly separated by steel railings. Constables stationed outside and inside the premises. A two digit price ticket for Indians and a three digit price ticket for foreigners. Tour guides who speak better English than you, seated in anticipation just after the air-conditioned ticket counter. Spick and span washrooms. Expensive audio guides. Well-manicured gardens. Informative placards stationed after every five metres. The Qutub Minar, a UNESCO World Heritage Site is lavishly groomed as a tourist spot, and meticulously well preserved as a monument. One could almost call it “pampered”. And why shouldn’t it be? Having towered over the capital’s skyline for nine centuries, it is a reminder of the country’s architectural supremacy and the city’s rich cultural heritage, aweing every single person seeing it for the first time.

A couple of minutes’ walk from the Minar along a secluded, peaceful road dotted with some posh nightclubs, designer boutiques and leafy canopies suddenly opens up to the bustling cacophony of a messy mini metropolis, Mehrauli. On the Mehrauli roundabout, opposite a noisy bus depot, lies a domed structure, visible to every passer-by courtesy its huge size, but acknowledged by none, except for some adventure-seeking tourists. There are no constables, long queues, tickets or ticket counters, tour guides, manicured gardens and most importantly, tourists.

The monument itself is run-down. A few vagabonds sleep inside the circular corridor. Four children play cricket in the courtyard. Some tobacco and paan hawkers have set shop inside the premises. If you look closely at the dirt stained informative placard at the entrance, it reads “Adham Khan’s Tomb”. Locals refer to it as “Bhool Bhulaiya” and it is well known only as a landmark, helpful perhaps while giving directions to delivery boys, and certainly not as an important heritage site, in spite of being built by one of the greatest rulers of the subcontinent, Mughal emperor Akbar.

Despite being in close proximity to the Qutub Minar, the treatment that most of the monuments and heritage sites in the Mehrauli and Hauz Khas area receive is a far cry from the one received by the Minar. Some have it worse than Adham Khan’s Tomb. Rai Pithora, the once grand citadel of the Rajputs lies in shambles and some of its boundaries are even used as garbage dumps. Most of the Sultanate era baolis or stepwells reek with stinking green water and are a breeding ground for mosquitoes.

There are hundreds of historical sites peppered across the city, in Old Delhi, Zamrudpur, South Extension, North Delhi, Central Delhi, Tughlukabad, Palam to name a few. Many of them are recognized by the Archaeological Survey Of India, but still find themselves in miserable conditions. Some are not recognized and remain unidentified even by the locals. Apart from being uncared for, they also fall prey to two menacing issues – vandalism and encroachment.

“X was here”. “Y loves Z”. “Long live the X party”. Acknowledgements of romance and pledges of loyalty to political candidates scribbled on the walls or pillars greet the beleaguered tourist who visits the monument once in a blue moon. Besides this, climbing atop delicate structures as well as sticking advertisement posters on the monument’s walls also count among the rampant acts of vandalism undertaken by irresponsible citizens.

In areas like Mehrauli, Chandni Chowk and South Extension where heritage sites exist simultaneously with residential areas, encroachment into the monument premises is common. Homeless people use them as shelter. Children use them as playgrounds. Residents use them as garbage dumps. According to ASI rules, construction within 100 metres of a monument protected by ASI is prohibited. But it is hard to implement the rule in a populous city like Delhi where unauthorized constructions are prevalent. In fact in a recent report by ASI in response to a Right to Information (RTI) application, Delhi ranks first in the country in terms of monument encroachments with the number crossing 300.

One might attribute this to the domino effect. Once a person vandalises or encroaches, and is not reprimanded, others follow suit and soon the number rises. “Doing the same in heavily guarded and respected sites like the Humayun’s Tomb and Red Fort would be unthinkable for even the most desperate of vagabonds and mischief mongers. So why aren’t the rest of the sites as heavily guarded?”, said a professor of sociology at the University Of Delhi on the condition of anonymity, questioning the unequitable treatment of monuments by authorities. These issues would have been nipped in the bud had there been stricter measures and punishments against them when they started coming up initially. The goal now should be to limit any further damage and if possible, allot funds for the refurbishment of the damaged sites.

Why should lesser known heritage sites be refurbished if they don’t attract any footfall? Well the very reason these sites don’t attract people is because they aren’t refurbished. With nothing worthwhile to see, nothing worthwhile to read, nothing to transport them back to the past, there is no incentive for them to visit. Add to the fact that many decrepit monuments are located in secluded and unguarded areas, thus making them unattractive to potential tourists. And even if they do not attract as much tourists as other well-known monuments, they need to be well maintained and well preserved for the sake of historical and cultural integrity. India’s rich culture and heritage is what makes it so unique, admirable, respectable, and the neglect of historical sites sabotages this reputation.

Nevertheless, the ASI has done credible work in handling an extremely long list of heritage structures. In fact, even the meticulously handled affairs at well-known historical sites is something that they need to be lauded for. Non-governmental organizations like INTACH and the Aga Khan Trust have done well in complimenting the work done by the government and have helped fill up loopholes. As citizens, it is our duty to provide constructive criticism and awareness so that the ones who wield the power and authority to take action know that their job isn’t done yet.

Feature Image Credits: Panasonic 4K Imaging Club

Araba Kongbam

Traditional Indian Theatre: An Embodiment of India’s True Essence

By DU Beat March 27, 2020

On World Theatre Day, we must apprise ourselves of the enthralling, incomparable beauty of traditional Indian theatre forms and acknowledge the need to resurrect them into mainstream culture.

“I regard the theatre as the greatest of all art forms, the most immediate way in which a human being can share with another the sense of what it is to be a human being.” – Oscar Wilde

Theatre is a branch of performing arts that comprises of acting out stories. It stimulates creativity and is one of the most popular modes of entertainment and jubilation. But theatre is much more than this; it is a platform for expression of different nuances of our everyday life through the subtle fusion of drama and/or music and dance.

Since ancient times, our Indian culture has given huge impetus to the performing arts. From performing in the courts of kings to an auditorium stage, Indian theatre has grown a lot and the diversity of its forms is mesmerizing. Natyashastra, written by Bharata Muni around 500 BCE is the earliest contribution to Indian theatre that vividly describes the theory behind a theatrical performance and depicts the mind of a performer. Indian theatre is usually categorized into three specific periods – Classical, Cultural and Modern; each period bringing in different areas of interests and traditions. The classical theatre was marked by composition and performance in the language of Gods – Sanskrit and had playwrights like Kalidasa (also known as Indian Shakespeare), Sudraka, Bhasa and Bhavabhuti influenced by epics and mythologies. Cultural period saw the rise of folk theatre in vernacular languages with themes like romance, heroism etc. Beginning in the late eighteenth century during the time of British consolidation in India, realism and nationalism pervaded modern theatre and had legends like Rabindranath Tagore, Kalyanam Raghuramariah, Dinabandhu Mitra etc. composing revolutionary works. Such was the acclaim and influence of Indian theatre that the British Government was forced to impose the Dramatic Performances Act in 1876 to prevent the use of theatre as a tool of protest.

Traditional Indian theatre is so rich in diversity and vigour that almost every state in India and further different ethnic groups have myriad forms of traditional theatre. But in all these forms the element of ‘simplicity’ is innate that leads to the development of an immediate, realistic and rhythmic relationship with the spectators. Regional peculiarities create a connection that is unhindered by social and economic divisions. One of the most magnificent facet of traditional Indian theatre is the beauteous use of dance and music. For instance, Tamasha a traditional folk theatre form of Maharashtra comprises of classical music, footwork at lightning-speed, and vivid gestures while in Bhand Jashn a traditional Kashmiri theatre form, the art of making the entry by dancing has been perfected as the way each character walks and enters the platform identifies him. Indian theatre has not remained untouched by urbanization and other changes and tried to improvise the aspects in innovative styles. Nautanki is usually associated with Uttar Pradesh. The stories revolve around mythological and folk tales and contemporary heroes. There was a time when only men acted in Nautanki but nowadays, women have also started taking part in the performances. Swang from Haryana, Rasleela from Uttar Pradesh, Bhavai from Gujarat, Maach from Madhya Pradesh are just some other theatre forms in the grand myriad of Indian theatre culture. Koodiyattam or Kutiyattam, is a traditional performing art form from Kerala. It has been recognised by UNESCO as a ‘Masterpiece of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity’ as it is one of the oldest theatre forms, based on Sanskrit theatre traditions.

Cinema and television have certainly emerged as the greatest adversaries of theatre and a falling appreciation of these art forms is witnessed. Their reach and knowledge has become limited and is popular only in the circles of theatre admirers. Theatre is such an art form that not only expresses meaning through narration but also brings people together. It leads to development of skills like listening, imagination and empathy. Moreover, its contribution to the economy and growth of neglected areas cannot be missed. The government as well as the citizens, especially the students can play a huge role in this endeavor of remembering our customs.

Thus, in order to strengthen our roots and concretise the cohesiveness of our culture, recognition and popularization of traditional Indian theatre is very essential, otherwise we would lose these precious jewels of our sublime Indian culture to westernisation forever.

Feature Image Credits: indiaheritagedesk.com

Ipshika Ghosh

Experiencing Delhi Like a Local

By Chhavi Bamba January 25, 2020

Visitor’s say it’s polluted, messy and always so crowded but have you ever asked a Delhite? They would probably talk about comfort in the chaos. A million people and unspoken stories, small happenings and heartwarming feelings all reside here.

If you’re planning to take a day off from classes and go around exploring, this might just be the most authentic way to experience Dilli, a local’s tried and tested guide.

1. Start from the campus
Both North and South Campus are home to the top colleges of the city; and of course, the top eateries. The canteens of the colleges are famous for their savories, often popularized by Bollywood films. Have some chai at the hangout spots like Sudama’s Tea Stall set up on the University bylines. You can also head to seminars being held in colleges or participate in the events, specially with fest season around the corner.

Tip: Do not forget to carry your college ID card. The guards won’t listen otherwise, you know.
2. Head to Majnu ka Tilla
Majnu ka Tilla, or Aruna Nagar is a Tibetan settlement in North Delhi, known for its quaint little cafes, bakeries, boutiques and souvenir stores, it is home to multiple monasteries and a huge Tibetan market. To get there, take the yellow line metro and get off at the Vidhan Sabha metro station. A rickshaw ride later, you will find yourself in streets that smell like the coffee your body so desperately needs. The streets have pretty architecture that can add up to your Instagram aesthetics.

Tip: Talk to the locals there and not just for directions. They have great stories to tell.

3. Explore Chandni Chowk
Chaotic and unbelievably busy, Chandi Chowk in Old Delhi is often recognised as Delhi’s retail market. It is hub to a number of food places, jewelry shops and clothing items. You can also find some unique and hand-crafted stationery and accessories. Visit the Jama Masjid, Lal Mandir and Sis Ganj Sahib Gurudwara and witness the religious harmony co-exist. Grab some lunch in Paranthe wali Gali and put that tick on your checklist.

Tip: Keep notes of Rs10 and 20 handy with you and commute through e-rickshaws. Enjoy the hustle bustle of the street at its fullest.

4. Spend the evening cycling at Lodhi Colony
Started in 2016 and officially inaugurated in 2019, Lodhi Colony is India’s first public art district. The walls and bylines are adorned with beautiful art and graffiti, providing visual delight, and making the ride extremely pleasant. Rent the cycles from Jor Bagh Metro Station Gate No.1 for Rs 60 for an hour. There are theatre nearby so you can also watch a play at Indian Habitat Center or Lok Kalayan Manch.

Tip: Chauhan Ji’s chhole bhature are quite the ‘World’ famous here. Just in case you had some space left in your stomach.

5. End the day at India Gate
This place is always brimming with picnickers and vendors selling ice cream, bhelpuri, fruit chaat, soft drinks, packaged food, colourful toys and so much more. While it does seem to be pretty cliched, a night visit here must be on top of all the to-do-in-Delhi lists. Surrounded by grassy lawns, the 42 metres tall monument is brilliantly lit every evening. At a closer look you’ll find the names of brave martyrs engraved all over its surface.

Tip: Play some Rang De Basanti music, the vibe is always worth it.

Feature Image Credits: D for Delhi

Aishwaryaa Kunwar
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