To begin with, a city is a difficult organism to perceive;
then to break it up into discrete segments of culture, history, people and
other headings for its sights and smells, its moods and seasons and the
luminosity of its sunsets, is a task for the gods. Or perhaps, a photographer
with a pain in his heart for his city.
Mahesh Bhat is the photographer with a pain in his heart
for his city Bengaluru, or shall we just call it, Bangalore, as we know it better. Bengaluru/ Bangalore: In First Person Singular
(photo book) is, from the cover to the last page, a labor of deep love and
concern. The very first photograph on the flyleaf inside the cover is that of
Basavana Gudi taken in 1995. That picture sums up the book I’m yet to read.
The dappled sunlight, the waiting stance of the structure amidst lengthening
afternoon shadows and people arrested in mid-stride tell of a Bangalore that is caught
in the cross-currents of identities, a city with roots, finding its wings.
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 Title: Bangalore/Bengaluru: In first person singular
Author: Mahesh
Bhat
Publisher:
Mahesh Bhat Publishing
Year: 2012
ISBN: 978-81-904535-1-6
This photo book delights the visual sense; at the same
time, the mind processes the subtle message of the image. And that is how the
author conveys the pain in his heart to his readers – not through cart-loads
of words on reams of acid-free paper, but through pictures (on art paper)
that reflect a city in all its living, and lively, detail.
The author begins with a brief acknowledgement of the
catalysts and supporters for this endeavor to narrate the story of Bangalore’s 25-year
journey of change. Contemporary thought leaders come first – Nandan Nilekani,
Subroto Bagchi. Nudging them (gently) are the artistes who, by the author’s
admission, ‘have been amazing’.
The book begins with a full-page photograph of a sunlit
field at the edge of a wood with a girl running across while her brother
stands by, playing his violin – a wide-open sky looks in interestedly. The
caption informs the reader that this field has now been imprisoned by a cigarette
factory at Chikkajala. The next
picture, three pages later, belongs to another world - urban squalor of
asbestos-capped shanties amidst piles of garbage dwarfed by futuristically
designed commercial complexes in the background. We have seen this picture – in cities that
grow breathlessly, and mindlessly.
The author asks “Whose city is it?”
Indeed, who has the right to stake first claim on Bangalore? Its cultural
denizens re-imagining concepts of life and living; IT professionals, taxi
drivers and businessmen from all parts of the country coming in search of a
new life; students; or its oldest residents holding fast to memories of the
first urban neighborhoods – whose is Bangalore?
A city is planned on sterile drawing boards to systematic
plans and proofs by conscientious engineers, farsighted patrons. Give the
city ample time, minimal space… and you will see it grow under the sun and
sky - amidst the confusion of livelihoods and living spaces, braving the
profusion of vehicles and vagaries of weather, through government inaction,
or worse, pot-bellied solutions to civic issues... the city will grow with a
life all its own, into a future that belies all predictions.
The harsh midday sun and the struggles it contains give the
city-face its character. The author documents Bangalore’s character evocatively. There
are so many pictures, and of such diversity – marketplaces, bus stands, and
women vegetable sellers glittering in diamond earstuds. Then there are dargahs, people celebrating
Durga Puja, as well as shops being set up for the day’s trade and the new
night life in the newly emerged part of the city.
Pages 56 and 57 present a contrast that truly mirrors
present-day Bangalore – the left page shows a line of four somber black
burqas adorning a shop window, deep undertones of demure womanhood. The right
page has a picture of a highlighted bright-red banner shouting, “Happiness
Sale Last 4 days left” and a line of four painted-up smiling ragdoll-faces
atop the banner. They both thrive – to each, Bangalore is home.
Pictures pack in power – elegantly. The portrait of the
descendants of Sir Mirza Ismail, five graceful matriarchs of varying vintage,
is a keepsake; old world charm that we lost in our relentless march into bold
new futures.
The chapter that leaves behind a lingering fragrance is
‘Bengaluru Karaga’. A ‘dramatic’ festival that began in the 1800s but still
has relevance for ‘struggles over urban space’, it encapsulates the essence
of the teeming city. It unifies across ‘geographical, religious, linguistic
and cultural’ divisions and is perhaps the only time when Hindu deities are
allowed to enter the precincts of a dargah, Tawakkal Mastan Dargah.
A city is the sum total of its citizens’ experiences. It is
what a rickshaw-puller feels when he sets down his first client at seven in
the morning; it is what the student sees as she takes the bus back home; it
is the child watching the birds in the school playground. The city shows a
different side to each of its citizens, like a million-sided prism. Each side
of the prism is true, and each side must keep pace with the other faces in
change and growth.
In frame after frame in this well-produced, sturdily-bound,
and smartly edited book, the reader sees the million-sided prism that is Bangalore, or Bengaluru…a
living, thriving organism suffused with energy and flaws, and radiant hope.
Author’s Bio: Mahesh Bhat is a Bangalore-based
photographer and has worked on projects for a number of publications in over
20 countries, all the way from New York
Times to Newsweek of Japan.
Reviewer’s Bio: Meenakshi Chawla is a Delhi-based writer
and writes book reviews for Contemporary Literary Review India.
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Saturday, October 12, 2013
M Chawla Reviews Bengaluru / Bangalore: In First Person Singular
Meenakshi Chawla Reviews Bengaluru/ Bangalore:
In First Person Singular
