I survived Madras in May

Raj S. Rangarajan

I am back in America after a year’s stint in Chennai. Now I have started missing Chennai. 
While I have lived in Mumbai for several years earlier, the year’s stay in Madras leaves me with mixed emotions. Having lived in the U.S. for almost 30 years I had taken for granted several things in the United States including the lowly paper towel, which is not readily available in Chennai.

10 things that refuse to change in Chennai

But there were more exciting, unusual experiences perhaps only a transitory person like me would appreciate. Having survived the 2007 summer season without a problem I felt like getting one of those T-shirts declaring: I Survived Madras in May.

It was a pleasant surprise when in February, roses were in full bloom, for in New York all we see is moody subway commuters, snow and dreary, cold days.

Five years ago when I came down on a vacation there was no 3-lane highway on Canal Bank Road (Taramani), and as recently as two years ago, Katipara junction near Meenambakkam airport was not witness to stalled traffic: now its a major “parking lot” during rush hours which can extend from two to four hours on certain days.

Chennai Icons of Yesteryears

Its amazing how within a few years, once a sleepy metropolis is now bustling with feverish activity. Gone are the days when people used to switch off lights at 8:30 p.m. Gone are the days when the city was once branded (rather unkindly I thought) as “an overgrown village.” And those folks must be eating those words now with Chennai the central point of many a call center, BPO, auto industry unit and corporates.

The first time I ordered an omlette at a restaurant in Neelangarai in Southern Chennai, the Muslim owner offered me only rice. When I asked for bread, the response was, “sorry sir, no bread, only rice.” I was aghast. I offered to pay extra for it but he clarified that he does not carry bread during lunchtime, and reassured me that after 4 p.m. puris and chapathis are available. That was my second lesson in taking things for granted.

Special: Madras Day

On a salubrious Sunday in October when it poured like there’s no

I am back in America after a year’s stint in Chennai. Now I have started missing Chennai. While I have lived in Mumbai for several years earlier, the year’s stay in Madras leaves me with mixed emotions. Having lived in the U.S. for almost 30 years I had taken for granted several things in the United States including the lowly paper towel, which is not readily available in Chennai. 10 things that refuse to change in Chennai But there were more exciting, unusual experiences perhaps only a transitory person like me would appreciate. Having survived the 2007 summer season without a problem I felt like getting one of those T-shirts declaring: I Survived Madras in May. It was a pleasant surprise when in February, roses were in full bloom, for in New York all we see is moody subway commuters, snow and dreary, cold days. Five years ago when I came down on a vacation there was no 3-lane highway on Canal Bank Road (Taramani), and as recently as two years ago, Katipara junction near Meenambakkam airport was not witness to stalled traffic: now its a major “parking lot” during rush hours which can extend from two to four hours on certain days. Chennai Icons of Yesteryears Its amazing how within a few years, once a sleepy metropolis is now bustling with feverish activity. Gone are the days when people used to switch off lights at 8:30 p.m. Gone are the days when the city was once branded (rather unkindly I thought) as “an overgrown village.” And those folks must be eating those words now with Chennai the central point of many a call center, BPO, auto industry unit and corporates. The first time I ordered an omlette at a restaurant in Neelangarai in Southern Chennai, the Muslim owner offered me only rice. When I asked for bread, the response was, “sorry sir, no bread, only rice.” I was aghast. I offered to pay extra for it but he clarified that he does not carry bread during lunchtime, and reassured me that after 4 p.m. puris and chapathis are available. That was my second lesson in taking things for granted. Special: Madras Day On a salubrious Sunday in October when it poured like there’s no tomorrow, when not a soul stirred on the streets, when not even the mongrels Chennai’s sympathetic citizens patronise woke up from their slumber, I ventured out around 12 noon. Being a seasoned Bombayite who has experienced 4-month monsoon seasons, I was thrilled to walk out with just an umbrella. Even my security guy, Venkatesan advised me against such a misadventure: he thought I was a “nutcase” to brave the elements since the average Madras resident would rather cosily stay home asking the “missus” to fry pakodas. The average Madrasi seems to be averse to venturing out on a cold day: two primary reasons, dampness and water-logged streets, not forgetting that he is easily susceptible to a cold allergy. Talking of the cold drives me to my driver Natarajan who had a strange fascination for kerosene. Once when he was nursing a cold, I asked him why he was smelling of kerosene, whether he had spilled any. He disclosed that his mother had recommended that he rest that evening after applying kerosene all over his body. Next morning, he was stinking in spite of the shower he had supposedly taken. On another bright day he was cleaning the car with kerosene saying it would accentuate the sheen on the office car’s metal. The problem was he had placed the kerosene container in the boot along with my newly-freshly laundered shirts, and there you have it…for a week I too was stinking of kerosene. And, I didn’t even have a cold! I had owned cars before in India, but this story was a new one: cleaning exteriors with kerosene for a sheen. Pradosha Thandavam – a dancer’s rite of worship Talking of Natarajan, during my year’s stay I was assigned three different drivers. I invited each of them to occasionally have lunch with me. They were aware that I would pick up the tab, but none would want to sit across the table and eat with me. The thought of hobnobbing with the help was surely a western concept and the help made it clear where his freedom ended. Perhaps thanks to the legacy of the Brits. Professionally, I have had mixed feelings about the city’s work ethic or concept of punctuality. Perhaps ten percent of the folks keeps an appointment, which is unfortunate, considering that the “Madrasi” would want to play with the big boys. Whether its the guy who services your Aqua-gard unit or your fridge or your a/c, we are always at their mercy. Whatever happens to people who don’t have servants at home or someone to answer the door? Coffee, curd rice and me While one can attribute it to the celebrated “chalta hai” attitude tolerated and encouraged by some Indians, it is difficult to justify such sloppiness. We rarely find “followers” -- only “leaders”. With the amount of opportunities these days one can see employees updating resumes during office hours. Some young men prefer to stay late in the office since the workplace is air-conditioned which also allows job aspirants to retool their career prospects. Culturally, Chennai has always been at the epicenter with a variety of entertainment options: music, dance, book readings, art shows, dramas, and it was a pleasure to participate. Socially, the city lacks the oomph and opportunities that Mumbai and Bangalore offer. In their wisdom, successive Tamil Nadu governments have ruled on the moral fiber and restraint of is citizens and made it difficult for them to celebrate even a small occasion like a birthday party without feeling guilty. The excitement that Indians now display whether on the cricket field, at the workplace or at a mall are all candid reflections of the new cockiness in everything they do, including the confidence to change jobs at the drop of a hat. That reassurance is also palpable in the number of ancestral homes replacing high rises most modern conveniences. Talking of conveniences, most Chennai’s flats carry the bidet in every bathroom: indeed a healthier way of cleaning one’s posterior with water instead of mere toilet paper. It’s a shame that the bidet is not yet popular in several parts of the West including America. Video: Madras nalla Madras Its interesting, in India apart from having personal trainers, accountants and attorneys, folks also patronise favored bootleggers who supply booze at discounted prices and personal money changers who give one a better value while exchanging the U.S. dollar. No, I am not talking of banks. The money changer comes home to collect the dollars just as the peon at the neighborhood pharmacy brings home to you your official medical prescriptions. Wonder how many western societies deliver prescriptions home even to the sick and elderly. Things I miss: Hot, hot idlis at Triplicane’s Ratna Café but regrettably they do not serve these wells-steamed delicacies after 10:30 a.m., and considering that Chennai has a reputation for these goodies I was surprised at the restriction. Just as, in some American restaurants, you cannot get a bagel after 10:30 a.m. Domino’s Pizza at Kasturba Nagar that had the slogan, “Hungry Kya?” while introducing Calzone -- a “Stuffed Mexican Delight.” I always thought Calzone was Italian, but then who is to question unique masala tastes that the Indian creative mind offers? Food court at Ascendas, where eclectic food tastes clamour for attention. It was a whopper of a surprise, however, to see the ubiquitous KFC chicken blended with rice thali. The Degree coffee advertised prominently near Sangeetha restaurant in R.A. Puram. The excellent, economical 25-rupee service for single people: stainless dubba lunch that included chapathis, kuttu, dry porial, salad, curds, and the most impressive part was those cute rubber bands used to wrap liquids and semi-solids. The American concept of food or drinks “to go” has a different meaning in Chennai. It is called “take away” – no form of subtraction here. Cholesterol-dipped pongal at Murugan Idli on the beach with its accompanying plethora of chutneys and oil served on greens but I do not miss the attitude that accompanies the service. The poetry in a hand-cart operator challenging a huge Tata Sumo in heavy Thiruvanmiyur traffic on a busy Monday morning. That is yet fresh in my mind, and, so was the vacant look a store owner at a Subway franchise in Besantnagar gave me when I order a sandwich “To Go”. He was however quick in correcting me that the phrase to use is “take away” not “to go.” Carnatic music “cutcheris” specially during the December music season when well-decked ladies in resplendent saris show off more than their knowledge of classical music and their saris. Things I do not miss: The “put-on” familiarity at 10, Downing Street, the lounge bar in T.Nagar that sports huge screens but a pathetic choice of alcoholic stimulants. The excuse always was, “we have to get permission from someone.” Wonder who! The hordes of people and the parade of two-wheelers at Elliots Beach on Sunday evenings. With love-birds cooing sweet nothings, walkers and strollers vying for attention and space with the vendors whose fare include sand as well, I wondered which gets you first: the crowds or the humidity on the shore. Always crowded cinema halls where audience participation is enthusiastic and articulate thanks to the at-times delirious crowd which constantly roots for its hero, the problem solver, who banishes evil in three hours. Rajnikant, in a smart marketing ploy, decided to show a bunch of Japanese actors in the recent “Kuselan” movie scene and hopefully his popularity will only increase in Japan and here. Now, Chennai does have a lovely mosaic of languages among workers some of whom hail from Orissa, Madhya Pradesh, Nagaland or Bangladesh. It must be frustrating and confusing for local, Madras-born, Tamil-speaking citizens. Some locals complain that the northerners have sullied the pristine and smooth, sleepy pace of this city. Madras’ 10 greatest sportsmen I have often heard locals use the expression, “no issues”. To emphasize a point, sometimes he would say, “No issues” and at other times, even when the decision was critical, my colleague, “No Issues Narayanan” would say, “no problem, no issues since nothing bothered him. The other celebrated expression, “give me a missed call” had me flustered briefly, for, I wondered how does one “give” a missed call. And, it seems to be a given that people do respond to “missed calls.” In America, people respond to recorded messages sometimes but aren’t familiar with the concept of “giving a missed call.” A New York based trend writer, Raj Rangarajan reports on the art market and has contributed to publications in the United States, Canada, Australia and India. He can be reached at raj.rangarajan@gmail.com.

http://www.sify.com/movies/boxoffice.php?id=14745864&cid=14459920

 

A Modern Passage to India

N.Y. / Region

A Modern Passage to India

Published: March 17, 1985

The article ''Taking a Risk: My Daughter's Passage to India'' (Opinion Page, Feb. 10) was touching and well-written and made interesting reading.

The writer, Pat Bard, should take a trip to see for herself the hoary traditions, customs and beliefs India offers.

There is more to India than her people or maybe a leader's death. It is the ambiance, the crowds, the human wealth, the smells and colors, the fatalistic, the inscrutable and the inevitable ''karma'' believers.

A brief letter like this can't do justice to a country. India is not merely a country in the defined sense, it's a way of life. It grows on you.

RAJ RANGARAJAN Flushing

Film Review: Midnight's Children - Mixed Bag

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Street singer (Samrat Chakrabarti)

Adversaries Saleem Sinai (Satya Bhabha) and Shiva (Siddharth)

Saleem with Parvati (Shriya Saran) 

By Raj S. Rangarajan *

India’s independence on August 15, 1947 is revisited by Man Booker Prize winning novelist Salman Rushdie’s story, Midnight’s Children that is now a movie. Directed by Toronto-based Deepa Mehta, and adapted and narrated by Rushdie, the film has received mixed reviews in North America and in other parts of the world.

Thanks to the names associated with the film and the buildup, one expected more from the film. Sometimes, filming fiction by an erudite writer could be frustrating. The film starts loftily but soon, in predictably formulaic pattern deteriorates into the mediocre, while being surprisingly spectacular. After Water and Fire one expected more out of Mehta. 

As India declares independence from Great Britain on August 15, 1947 (Rushie calls it India’s remake of American independence), two male babies are switched at birth at midnight in a hospital in Bombay by Mary the midwife (Seema Biswas, Patang, Water directed by Deepa Mehta) with questionable loyalties toward the wealthy.  The boys are Saleem and Shiva and, born seven seconds after midnight was Parvati (Shriya Saran,Sivaji: The Boss). 

Saleem Sinai (Satya Bhabha, debutant in a feature film) and Shiva (Siddharth Rang de Basanti) are destined to live in differing worlds – one in a fancy home with an automobile and the other forced to earn a living as a street performer.  Female lead Parvati, who is friendly with both the boys, displays magical abilities and the word “abracadabra” is a staple in the film.

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MIDNIGHT CHILDREN’s GREEN CHUTNEY

Mary’s bright “grasshopper green” chutney is a Proustian unifying memory for Saleem and the trigger for his exploration of the past, “The taste of the chutney was more than just an echo of that long-ago taste – it was the old taste itself, the very same, with the power of bringing back the past as if it had never been away...Once again an abracadabra, an open-sesame: words printed on a chutney-jar, opening the last door of my life.”

The “chutnification of history” is a way to retrieve and interpret memory. On the last pages of the novel Saleem describes this, with the same words as the movie’s ending, “One day, perhaps, the world may taste the pickles of history. They may be too strong for some palates, their smell may be overpowering, tears may rise to eyes; I hope nevertheless that it will be possible to say of them that they possess the authentic taste of truth...that they are despite everything, acts of love.”

Saleem’s memories of his childhood and of home are wrapped up in his ayah Mary’s green chutney throughout Midnight’s Children. The bright green condiment is always on the table, and served with every meal, including breakfast. When Mary consoles the young Saleem in the hospital after the startling revelations of his “bad blood”, she promises him “all the chutney in the world”. On Saleem’s lonely first night in his aunt Emerald’s household, he has a photo of Mary and a jar of her chutney on his bedside table: his only comforts. And when Mary meets teenage Saleem at the Karachi train station when he returns from exile, the first thing Mary offers to do for him is to make his favourite chutney. And of course the discovery of Mrs. Braganza’s bottled chutney is...well, momentous.  As Saleem says in his voiceover, narrated by Salman Rushdie, “Sometimes emotions are stirred into food and become what you feel. And sometimes people leak into each other, like flavours when you cook.”

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Because of a bronchial condition that is not explained, Saleem is able to see and talk with all the other 500 odd surviving children that were born in India (August 15) on that fateful night. In the assemblage are hot-tempered Shiva and the pretty witch Parvati.

Over a 30-year period, the connection between Saleem’s and Shiva’s lives unravel with class divisions about the privileged and the poor, jealousy and rage, heartbreak and hope, about intrigue and the emotion of feeling entitled. Saleem, a victim of amnesia, acts genuinely confused and is as complex as the movie.

Shiva, now a ruthless military commander meets Saleem in a confrontation while Parvati tries to seduce Shiva. Wee Willie Winkie (Samrat Chakrabarti Viswaroopam), as a street singer, adds comedic elements to his musical repertoire. Cameraman Giles Nuttgens has a field day capturing the kaleidoscope aspects of the theme. Rushdie’s screenplay carries passion with his story vividly bringing home the historic event that was attendant with societal problems of the day whatever one’s station in life.

Saleem’s favorite chutney -- a specialty that Mary, the former nurse -- now a maid with the Sinai household -- used to prepare comes up as a reminiscent detail. (See separate box on Midnight Children’s Green Chutney.)  

Commenting on the novel, written decades ago, film director Deepa Mehta says: “It is a coming-of-age story, full of the trials and tribulations of growing up, and of the terrible weight of expectations. What separates it from other thematically similar films is that the story is not only about a boy but also about his country, both born at the very same time at a pivotal point in Indian history. Saleem’s journey as our vulnerable, misguided hero is always intertwined with the struggles of the newly independent India, as it finds its own voice in the world.”

For the stats-minded, the film (running time: 140 minutes) covers four generations over five distinct time periods and three wars. It was shot in 65 locations in India and Sri Lanka in 70 days, and has 127 speaking parts.

Appearing on John Stewart’s Daily Show recently Rushdie said, considering that Bombay has been more far-reaching than Hollywood in terms of numbers of films made, instead of Bollywood, the place should be called “Hombay” as Mumbai’s film headquarters. 

Mehta adds: “collaborating with Rushdie on this film project was pure delight and we were in sync since Salman and I were both from the Indian diaspora with intertwined roots in India?”

* Raj S. Rangarajan is a New York based freelance writer. He covers trend stories on art, reviews books and films for media based in New York; Toronto, Canada; and India. He can be reached atraj.rangarajan@gmail.com

The Business and Passion of South Asian Art

By Raj S. Rangarajan 

     April 2013

Left: M. F. Husain, Lighting Horses, ca. 1979, oil on canvas. Collection of Sri and Harsha Reddy.
(Image courtesy Peabody Essex Museum)

The writer interviewed a curator, collectors, gallery owners, auctioneers, and artists in New York, Mumbai, and Bangalore to gauge what drives South Asian art and artists.

Bangalore-based Chinni Rajputana is passionate about collecting art, but is not too happy about the current state of the South Asian art market. In recent years the artists that she loves to own are not being shown at galleries or auctions. Shandilya Shankar, a New York venture capitalist who likes to turn a quick buck on contemporary Indian paintings, is not happy with the market, either. He feels only the best known names—a Husain or a Tyeb Mehta or a Souza—are fetching demand, making the market quite narrow.

Over the past four years, the South Asian art market has been on a rollercoaster ride. Tyeb Mehta’s Untitled (Figures with Bull Head), sold in March 2012 for $1.8 million, quite below expectations. In September 2010, La Terre, 1985, an acrylic by Raza sold for merely $1.93 million, below its estimated value of $2.5 million. Using another parameter, in March 2012, of 124 lots offered at Christie’s sale of South Asian modern and contemporary art, only 69 percent got sold. At Sotheby’s across town, in the same category, only 57 percent were sold.

Those were the downers, but as with any roller-coaster ride, there were the ups, too. Mehta’s diptych, Bulls, sold in 2012 at $2.8 million while Syed Raza’s Saurashtra went for $ 3.24 million, also last year.

Last September one 2nd/3rd century Gandhara sold for a whopping $1.25 million. Was it really worth the price for the “anonymous” buyer or institution that picked up this piece? Sandhya Jain-Patel, specialist for Indian and Southeast Asian Art at Christie’s New York, had then commented, “Top lots, especially sculptures from Gandhara, Nepal, and Tibet were underbid and were bought both by seasoned buyers and first-timers.”

Underbid or underpriced? Was it a market correction? Or, was there more to this aberration?

Depending on who you talk to in the industry, two distinct and contrasting scenarios are emerging.

Is art simply a speculative business?


The volatility and unpredictability in the art market in general and the South Asian one in particular raises several questions. Why indeed are some works fetching prices that defy logic? What are buyers of such art looking for? A sense of joy or pride of ownership or is it sound investment value for the work? And if it is not investment value, then what precisely is propping up such a price tag? Or, is it also perhaps the legend or hype that is created around the work and the artist?

Is art and the promotion of art simply the art of business and marketing? One would imagine so, considering the millions of dollars being spent all over the world on pricey catalogues, promos, and exhibitions. These days everything is a commodity—an item to be well-packaged, well-marketed, and sold. The art aspect or intrinsic value of the artist’s message or opinions and the artist’s skills do not seem germane any more. Has merchandizing taken over from art?

In spite of the dips and highs of the stock market and the anemic nature of today’s sputtering economy, art as a commodity seems to be doing well. There are big bucks to be made, and with the right promoters, artists such as Husain or Tyeb Mehta or Souza continue to draw greater attention—more so after their passing.

Tyeb Mehta, Sequence, 1981, oil on canvas. Peabody Essex Museum, gift of the Chester and Davida Herwitz Collection. © The Estate of Tyeb Mehta. (Image courtesy Peabody Essex Museum, photograph by Walter Silver.)

“Indian art is so popular now that several Americans and Europeans with market knowledge of their artists take special trips to other parts of the world to attend public auctions since art is considered a wise investment”, says Deepak Talwar, owner of Talwar Gallery, New York.

While price is one benchmark to evaluate an artist, it is not the only one.

Provenance (the history, time, and circumstances surrounding the creation of the art) has always been equally important. Quite often, “collector” groups attend private sales that are not reported publicly; neither are prices disclosed. The art world has gotten larger globally with a wider perspective and reach and continues to grow.

The art collector is a different breed

Talwar draws a distinction between “buying” and “collecting” art. There are several buyers of art with money but it is only the discerning art-literate who is a collector. Today’s buyers of South Asian art are more guarded in their purchases, he observes. His advice: read about the artists, their styles and motivations; inform yourself about the origin and background of a piece before buying it.

Persons of Indian origin, not necessarily those based in India, continue to be a driving force in promoting Indian artists’ creations in India. Many bidders at public art auctions are knowledgeable about provenance and prices and could go toe-to-toe with specialists whose job it is to study and evaluate the market.

Where is the Indian art market headed? Dinesh Vazirani, co-owner of the online auction house Saffronart, foresees a positive movement in the sales of contemporary South Asian art: “[The market] is already beginning to regain momentum: we are beginning to see a slow and steady development in the infrastructure, galleries, museums, as well as more support from the public and private sectors.”

Currently on view at the Peabody Essex Museum in Salem, Massachusetts, is an exhibition titled Midnight to the Boom: Painting in India after Independence, showcasing the work of three generations of Indian painters. The ups and downs of the market are an inherent part of the business, feels Trevor Smith, Curator of Contemporary Art at the museum, also known as PEM: “Any market in which there is no uncertainty is by definition not a market.”

Smith adds, “Markets evolve and taste changes. There is an incredible diversity of art and artists in South Asia. Many younger artists have made incredible inroads into international markets and the broader critical consciousness.”

Antiques, Bronzes, and Miniatures

Fluctuations in the prices of modern and contemporary Indian art have led buyers to invest in another significant art tradition—miniatures. “Many people want to invest in [contemporary art], but the explosive rise in prices resulted in the unsustainability of these prices when people wanted to sell. Thus people have started looking at other categories including miniatures as an investment where the rise is slow, steady and sustainable. Of course, even here quality, condition and period is of vital importance,” says Maher Dadha, Chairman and Managing Director, Bid & Hammer, fine art auctioneers in Bangalore.

Vazirani agrees: “We have been seeing the demand for antiquities and miniature paintings rising in India and there is great room for growth. However, miniatures have differing markets in India and outside due to the export regulations of the Government of India.”

Bronzes, another important tradition of Indian art, remain confined to museums and institutions because they’re too expensive for individual collectors, says Maher Dadha. “Because some of the older bronzes are very expensive and not perhaps as liquid as other works, individual bidders cannot afford them, and it is the museums, institutions, and corporate houses that can be convinced more easily to buy these bronzes.”

Bikash Bhattacharjee, The Lady with the Gas Cylinder, 1986, oil on canvas. Peabody Essex Museum, gift of the Chester and Davida Herwitz Collection. © The Estate of Bikash Bhattacharjee. (Image courtesy Peabody Essex Museum, photograph by Walter Silver.)

In India, purchases of contemporary art, either as adornment for their own personal spaces or as investment, seem to be de rigueur among the wealthy.

The Mumbai-based artist couple Atul and Anju Dodiya have had exemplary successes. Notwithstanding their success, the vagaries of the art market must have some impact on their creative process. Did consideration of the market ever affect the quality of their work and motivation?

Anju, known for her artistic versatility at varied levels, warms up: “Creativity and the market are two separate things. When one is alone in the studio, facing the painterly problem, one cannot afford to be distracted or even motivated by the market. I have to remain focused and concentrated. That has always been my process.”

As the response to the Dodiyas shows, the Indian art collector and buyer clearly have art on their shopping list. Admittedly the fluctuations in the market have not pleased many investors. But ultimately, with patience and informed investment, the Rajputanas and the Shankars could build up an enviable collection that could offer them both satisfaction and value.

“Art has no timeline; beautiful works of art are timeless—to be treasured no matter when they were created. We collect both contemporary art and antiques: it is our heritage, it belongs to all of us. Sri and I are just temporary custodians,” says Harsha Reddy, who with his wife Sri, has been a longtime collector.

Raj S. Rangarajan is a New York based freelance, covering trend stories on art, books, and films.

Patang (Kite): Soars with Sensitive Story

BY RAJ S. RANGARAJAN *


A thought-provoking film with serious overtones, Patang is definitely not Bollywood. Seniormost in the film’s credits is Seema Biswas (Bandit Queen, Water) who makes sure that the seriousness of the film is maintained though, admittedly there are hilarious moments within the family story dynamic when kites are soaring in gay abandon on the vibrant streets of Ahmedabad.

An exuberant Priya (Sugandha Garg) in dance

A thought-provoking film with serious overtones, Patang is definitely not Bollywood. Seniormost in the film’s credits is Seema Biswas (Bandit Queen, Water) who makes sure that the seriousness of the film is maintained though, admittedly there are hilarious moments within the family story dynamic when kites are soaring in gay abandon on the vibrant streets of Ahmedabad.

In a story set around the Makar Sankranti festival on January 14 (a.k.a. Uttarayan in some parts of India) the film will reverberate in several parts of the country. Delhi businessman Jayesh (Mukund Shukla) returns to his family home after five years and wants to make good by his family. He wants to set up a condo across town for his mother and sister-in-law Sudha (Seema Biswas) and his nephew, Chakka, a 20-plus man without a job who generally hangs out with young boys in the neighborhood.

Nawazuddin Siddiqui (Gangs of Wasseypur,Kahani) plays Chakka and keeps the tension going while highlighting earlier family slights and resentments with his mother, Sudha and Jayesh’s mother. The bright light in the movie is Jayesh’s daughter, sparkling Priya (played by Sugandha Garg) who is visiting the city for the first time. Her earlier appearance was in My Name is Khan, and Sugandha’s infectious laugh and expressive face do the talking.

Hamid Shaikh awestruck by kites

The film weaves together the stories of six people transformed by the energy of India's largest kite festival. Made of paper and bamboo, these colorful kites are metaphors for many families in Ahmedabad every year when they show off their kite-flying prowess while letting go off their emotions.

Flying a kite successfully is a virtual journey into a philosophical realm. Apart from the breeze that exhilarates it is a cathartic experience as one looks up at the busy sky triumphantly: the freedom and expertise of controlling a square piece of paper and bamboo amidst competitive forces in the form of other challenger kites with glass-laced strings, the merciless wind and the messy skyline with hovering satellite towers and disks from building roofs. 

Shanker Raman (Harud, Peepli Live) has captured the essence of the passionate kite flyer’s psyche through his camera in the night sky. Kites with candles and lanterns glow each narrating a story or expressing a feeling, a thought or a mere moment in his busy life.  Raman’s earlier efforts were Harud and Peepli Live.

Chakka (Nawazuddin Siddiqui in a band

While Chakka is all swagger and resentful of his uncle, Priya’s seductive fondness for a young shop clerk, played by Aakash Maherya from the neighborhood adds to the suspense when Aakash takes her on a scooter ride and one wonders: Will the father take objection to his daughter hanging out with this young boy? Will Chakka have a serious falling out from his uncle? Will the undelivered bunch of kites affect the future of young Hamid Shaikh who lives on the streets and is an associate of Chakka?

Prashant studied theatrical directing at the Actors Studio Drama School in New York and computer science at Cornell University. A native of Chicago, Prashant's interest in the arts began as a graffiti artist. This film Patang (the Kite) was featured at The Berlin Film Festival and in the world Narrative Competition at the Tribeca Film Festival. Patang won the Golden Orchid Award for Best Narrative Feature at the 2011 Hawaii International Film Festival and at the DC APA Film Festival.

Director and writer, Prashant talks fondly of the amount of “intense research he did for the film and how spindles of thread and bundles of kites” form the fabric for this touching 92-minute film.

Prashant says, “Scenes were not rehearsed; they were improvised largely with non-actors and shot hand-held in long takes, without the conventional over-the-shoulder shots. As a result, the edit was a two-year process of distilling and constructing a scripted narrative from 200 hours of documentary-like footage. Just watching the footage took over a month.

“I began by constructing those scenes with major plot points and then proceeded to the transitional scenes. I would make small discoveries, pulling a shot from here, splicing it with a magic moment there, and then returning to the overall structure. Eventually the edit captured the narrative of the original script.”

Indeed, the filmmakers do convey with panache the sense of euphoric excitement that the city is part of in a very real manner. And the film soars.

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[Raj S. Rangarajan is a New York based freelance writer. He covers trend stories on art, reviews books and films for media based in New York; Toronto, Canada; Seoul, Republic of Korea; and India. He can be reached at raj.rangarajan@gmail.com]

South Asian Modern Sales Show Mixed Market

      By Raj Rangarajan and Eileen Kinsella

 NEW YORK—London sales of South Asian modern and contemporary art, at Sotheby’sand Christie’s last week, presented a mixed picture of the market with widely uneven results.

At the Sotheby’s June 8 sale of South Asian modern contemporary art and Indian miniature paintings, just 37, or 42 percent, of the 88 lots offered found buyers. By value, the auction was 23.5 percent sold, one of the lowest such rates seen in any category. The sale realized a total of £546,800 ($844,915).

Sotheby’s specialist Holly Brackenbury said: “The Indian art market is undergoing a period of adjustment after the heights it reached several years ago. It is still developing and, at present, collectors are highly selective.”

She added that “there was strong pre-sale interest in many of the paintings and we anticipate that this will translate into post-sale offers for several key works.”

Still, most of the top lots met or exceeded estimates, including a work by modern masterFrancis Newton Souza, whose painting Goan Landscape, 1964, sold for £68,450 ($105,769), well above the £30,000/40,000 estimate; and A. Balasubramaniam’s fiberglass and acrylic sculpture titled Gravity, 2006, which sold for £43,250 ($66,830) on an estimate of £20,000/30,000.

An untitled oil painting by Sri Lanka-born artist George Keyt sold for £16,250 ($25,110), compared with an estimate of £8,000/12,000.

The remaining top lots, even those by the most prominent painters of this genre, fell within relatively modest presale estimates. Ram Kumar’s 1956 untitled oil sold for £55,250 ($85,372), on an estimate of £50,000/70,000, and Sayed Haider Raza’s oil Ville d’Avray,1962, sold for £34,850 ($53,850).

At Christie’s South Asian modern and contemporary art sale, the house offered 112 lots. Of these, 86, or 77 percent, found buyers. The auction was also 77 percent sold by value.

The top-selling lot was Tyeb Mehta’s Untitled (Mahishasura), 1996, which sold for £1.4 million ($2.1 million) on an estimate of £1.2 million/1.8 million.

Raza also figured in the top lots here, with Clocher du Village, 1958, taking £481,250 on an estimate of £450,000/600,000, while another of his works, an untitled 1980 painting, sold for £121,250 ($188,544) on an estimate of £120,000/180,000. Also by Raza, Untitled(Crucifixion), 1957, sold for £103,250 ($160,554) on an estimate of £40,000/60,000, andVillage au fond rouge, 1958, also cleared its £40,000/60,000 estimate to sell for £85,250 ($132,564).

Hugo Weihe, Christie’s international director of Asian art, said the sale “performed well across the board with works which were fresh to the market and from private collections securing strong prices.” Weihe said the auction “demonstrated the breadth of demand for this category with collectors, institutions and dealers from South East Asia, India, the Middle East to Europe and the United States bidding throughout.”

Among the more contemporary works, Bharti Kher’s Border in Red, 2009, comprised of bindis on aluminum panel, sold for £85,250 ($132,564), compared with an estimate of £50,000/70,000. Two works by Manjit Bawa also figured in the top lots, each selling for £85,250 ($132,564): Untitled (Goat with Aubergines), 1992, which had an estimate of £60,000/80,000; and Untitled (Acrobat), 1988, which had been estimated at £40,000/60,000.

Vibrant Bidding at Christie’s Hong Kong Sales

         —Raj S. Rangarajan 

Vol. 37, No. 37

NEW YORK—Fine art accounted for more than HK$1.4 billion ($181 million) of the overall HK$2.7 billion ($351.7 million) total at Christie’s recent Hong Kong auctions, including six-day and evening sales.

At the evening sale of Asian 20th-century and contemporary art, held on May 26, the total was HK$361.7 million ($46.6 million) and the auction was 91 percent sold by lot, 96 percent sold by value. Sanyu’s Blue Chrysanthemums in a Glass Vase, painted in the 1940s, led the sale with a final price of HK$47.7 million ($6.1 million), surpassing the high estimate of HK$28 million. Also in the top lots, and marking the sale’s third-highest price at HK$38.7 million ($5 million), was Pink Lotus, also painted in the 1940s. Zeng Fanzhi took second place with Fly, 2000, which sold for HK$39.8 million ($5.1 million). Zao Wou-Ki continues to be at the forefront of these sales, with three of the top-ten lots fetching a total of HK$45.7 million ($5.9 million) for his works, each at prices higher than estimated.

The day sale of Asian 20th-century art, on May 27, totaled HK$170.5 million ($22 million), with 85 percent sold by lot, and 96 percent sold by value. The Asian contemporary art figure was HK$97.2 million ($12.5 million), with 72 percent sold by lot, 79 percent sold by value.

Eric Chang, international director of Asian 20th-century and contemporary art, attributed “the robust results of the sale in part to Christie’s integration of southeast Asian contemporary and modern art into the overall Asian category, creating a wider pan-Asian platform.”

In the 20th-century category, Lin Fengmian’s Opera Series: Beauty Defies Tyranny, painted in the 1950s, sold above estimate at HK$11.6 million ($1.5 million). Chu Teh-Chun’s Accent d’orgue, 1995, sold at HK$9.6 million ($1.2 million) and his work figured again in the top ten with Untitled No. 221, 1965, selling at HK$4.8 million ($620,816), or two times the high estimate of HK$2.4 million. Also in this category, Zao Wou-Ki figured in the top ten with two works obtaining a total of HK$10.2 million ($1.3 million).

In the Asian contemporary art sale, the top lot Hearth, 1988, by Shang Yang, sold at five times its high estimate, for HK$6.4 million ($821,744). Zeng Fanzhi, known for his “Mask” series, placed second with his 1997 Mask selling at HK$5 million ($651,728).

The fine Chinese modern paintings sale, held May 29, fetched HK$454.1 million ($58.5 million), and was 91 percent sold by lot and 93 percent sold by value. In the top ten, five paintings by Zhang Daqian brought prices above estimate, with Separation, 1996, selling for HK$34.2 million ($4.4 million). The remaining four works totaled HK$54.7 million ($7 million).

Ben Kong, international specialist head of Christie’s Chinese paintings department, said Chinese paintings sales this season “continued to incite bidding from a diverse group of collectors, further reflecting a pattern of sustained growth in the market for Chinese paintings.”