Book review: Raza's Bindu

Raza’s Bindu

Concept & Text:  Ritu Khoda and Vanita Pai.

Afterword by S.H. Raza

Illustrations: Kundan Shanbagh  

Scholastic India. I am an Artist series. 2014. Hardcover. Full colour. Rs. 350. 150. 66 pages. 

ISBN: 978-93-5103-282-3

Breathes there a child who doesn’t enjoy playing with colours, whether on paper or on walls? My informed guess would be: No.

Like music, art has an universal appeal for the young across countries, colours, religions ~ until adults (including parents and teachers) step in with spirit-sapping  questions. Like ‘How can an elephant be silver, with a pink trunk?’ or ‘Silly! Why have you painted the sky green and the grass blue?’

I think it is unfortunate that Indian adults often tend to look down on arts-based professions. Nor do most parents take children to visit artists, studios, or art galleries. Their fear: how could this lead them to the top of the class, an IIT seat, or a Bill Gates lifestyle?

As an art buff (surrounded by original art at home during my growing years), my friends today include dozens of creative dreamers. For decades, I have wished it was possible to change our collective lens on art. But how?

To me, this book is a long overdue step in the right direction. Active art educator Khoda and creative writer Pai spell out their dilemma in a concept note, ‘Why are children not aware of great Indian modern artists?..... How are we to inform them? What approach should we take? How should we balance the visuals with the concept and text to make a book that would grab children’s attention and more importantly, hold it?’

Their foray begins with a mere dot ~ or Raza’s bindu. They engage the reader with a hands-on, child-centric approach to his art. The legendary artist, now 93, says in his afterword, ‘As a child I was never able to concentrate on studies. One afternoon, my primary school teacher made me sit and train my gaze on a ‘Bindu’ he had made on the wall, to teach me to focus… Decades later in Paris, when I sought some Indian ideas for my art, the Bindu came back to me and it became a recurring image in my work over the years. To me, Bindu is a still centre, a source of energy. It is the beginning and the end.’

Guided by a playful, lilting narrative, aided by intelligent creative exercises, the book charms both the child and the art-resistant adult. For instance, one of the three tear-out worksheets at the end comes with these instructions: ‘Take your paints, pencils or crayons and find a quiet corner to sit in. Close your eyes and take a deep breath. Slowly open your eyes and start making your Bindu.’

The core illustrations based on Raza’s paintings, some with unique fold-out pages, are irresistible.  Play is the central road to a child’s heart, a route the authors navigate with soul. Via geometric stickers with which to create art.  Via exercises on the Rangamala or the Panchatatva, made easy and fun.

And best of all, via questions that tease the child into exploring uncharted concepts: What would it be like to be under Raza’s cool, blue sea? Or looking up at the calm blue sky?...  Why do you think Raza painted these bindus in half? Could they be playing hide-and-seek? Do you think they will meet? What will happen then?

Unlike other recent Indian children’s books on art, which have concentrated on art lives instead of experiential learning, Khoda and Pai have their formula just right. They often back up their book basics with intimate, non-stop fun workshops at bookstores, libraries and other child-centric spaces.

The time is right. The approach is right. All we need now is for parents to take their rearing cues from these luminous creators: Ask open-ended questions. Listen patiently. Focus on the process. Accept mistakes. And so on.

This beautifully-produced book makes me look forward to future journeys in the series with Ambadas Khorbragade, Ram Kumar, Ganesh Haloi, Jamini Roy, Badrinarayan and others.

Who knows, a generation impacted by this insight-rich series might bring mind-blowing surprises our way. Perhaps there is a future  MF Husain, J Swaminathan or KCS Paniker in the wings? As adults, we need to peek carefully ~ and not disturb.

Raza’s Bindu made me wish this book had come my way when I was 8-plus. It might have enhanced my journey into the art world by several notches. I would not doubt that for a micro-second.   

(This review was originally published online in GoodBooks in 2015)

Book review: The Patua Pinocchio

The Patua Pinocchio

Text: Carlo Collodi (adapted from Carol della Chiesa’s translation from the Italian)

Illustrations: Swarna Chitrakar

Tara Books. 2014. Hardcover. Colour. Rs. 550. 190 pages.

ISBN: 978-93-83145-12-6

Pinocchio has gone viral since it was first published in Italian by Carlo Collodi in 1883. Adapted by Walt Disney Studios as a 1940 film, the wooden marionette who dreams of being a real boy is all set to reappear in a Disney live action fairy tale in the near future. In Italy, director Roberto Benigni (‘Life is beautiful’) did his own film version in 2002, while Pinocchio inspired a popular Korean tele-series.

The wooden boy made guest appearances on Sesame Street and the Muppet Show, and was a supporting character in the Shrek movies. He was even a knight on the chessboard in the Japanese manga anime series MAR between 2003- 2006.  Former British children’s laureate Michael Morpurgo did an irresistible, quick-paced variation on the tale in 2013, told by Pinocchio in the first person, with breathtaking illustrations by Emma Chichester Clark. And so, Pinocchio’s conquest of the global imagination continues.

I first heard of this long-nosed, cheeky bad boy as a bedtime tale from my Ma when I was about three. What did I make of it as I grew? That it was about a good father and his naughty son. That it is not always right to create stories or live in a fantasy world. It did not strike me as a highly moral tale then. Nor does it now.

This Tara book is edited and abridged from Collodi’s Italian text, translated into English by Carol Della Chiesa. It was born during a recent workshop for traditional Patua scroll painters from Bengal, hosted by Tara Books.  These enchanting balladeers, often seen at crafts bazaars and in scenic villages across Bengal, meld painting, story-telling and performance in their art form, evoking Indian epics, folklore, mythical heroes and creation stories.

Swarna Chitrakar, a Patua artist for over 20 years, was charmed by the Pinocchio story at the workshop. She chose to illustrate it in her traditional style, though not in age-old sprawling scroll panels but in smaller frames to suit the book format.

On these pages, the little wooden boy crosses cultures, continents and languages to resemble maybe a child Krishna, a cross between a folkloric hero and a universal child. His skin is dusky, his gaze wondrous and undaunted (almost Jamini Roy like). He is clad minimally, or dons only jewellery, true to the Patua trope. Visually, Swarna renders him as mischievous, playful yet almost beatific. Irresistible, beyond doubt.

As across Indian traditional folk paintings, Patua artists use clothing to denote social rank. The marionette theatre chief (or Fire Eater), for instance, is dressed in fancy raja-like gear, draped with necklaces. In contrast Pinocchio’s father, the carpenter Geppetto, wears a simple dhoti, while the pretty, pivotal Blue Fairy is sari-clad and bejewelled.

Patua art has, for centuries, celebrated animals and birds, whether mythical or real. Swarna’s chirping cricket, non-existent in Indian folk art, captures the eye in a trice.  Zigzagging across the frame, with scales and striped limbs, he sets the mood for other rollicking creatures from her fertile imagination. For instance? A goggle-eyed trickster cat with a goofy grin. A subtly-feathered red pigeon who flies Pinocchio to safer shores. Fish in earthy ochres, browns and greens, netted from the deep with Pinocchio.

Some of Swarna’s stunning images linger in the mind’s eye for hours. Such as the detailed black-and-white title drawings that launch each chapter. Or the incredible rath-like  coach drawn by dozens of monochrome outlined horses, almost whinnying with life. The Fire Eater in blazing red striding towards his stove, the Harlequin as his intended tinder grasped firmly in his hand, while Pinocchio pleads for mercy. Or the cunning giant ochre cat, almost purring with content, with a trembling blackbird in its jaws. Or Pinocchio swimming into the swirling waves from the Shark’s wide mouth with Geppetto on this back, surrounded by buoyant little fish, the predator rendered minimally as a gaping jaw with an enormous eye.

Spectacular art apart, the playful typography in this impeccably produced book ~ a hallmark of the best Tara books ~ makes this one distinctive. Designer Tanuja Ramani lays out the story with accents of 19^th century book design, including border motifs and smaller typeface when dialogue is in a gentler, softer voice. This element proves both playful and powerful.

V. Geetha of Tara Books writes in her concluding note: ‘This is the first time that Patua art has been used to illustrate a children’s classic from another tradition. While re-drawing and designing the tale, the book adds fresh ~ and startlingly unfamiliar ~ layers of meaning to a well-known story, and in the process, renders it truly universal.’

So true. This book is highly recommended for parents and teachers who seek to realign their children’s imagination. Or tweak ways of looking at popular tales.

Looking back at The Patua Pinoccio with wonder, I am faced with a nagging, unresolved question: Does Indian folklore have a Pinocchio- like story in any form? Would you know? 

(This review was originally published in the GoodBooks website in June 2015)