The Longest January ever?
Rajasthan sojourn, pink trumpet tree theatre, and a feminist utopia in words and art
Dear readers,
Whew, here we are in 2022 and bidding adieu to what seemed to be the longest January ever…at least, for me:) My month initially began with a much awaited ten day trip to my home state, Rajasthan; however, what with rising covid numbers and imposition of restrictions in the state, we returned few days earlier than we had planned. And while I was disappointed, I was ultimately more relieved to be back home safe and sound without having to worry about being potentially exposed or exposing others to the virus (the perils and foolhardiness of taking a holiday in a pandemic, sigh). We still got two lovely days in Udaipur, two days in Kumbhalgarh, which is known for its magnificent fort, and a road trip from Kumbhalgarh to Jodhpur, where we literally stayed for few hours before getting on our flight to Bangalore. I had never ever spent such a short time in Jodhpur, which is my mother’s hometown and where I spent so many summers and winters, even well into my twenties. I still managed to squeeze in a visit to my maternal uncle’s house, gobbling down kachoris and gajar ka halwa, and paying a visit to my favorite Ganesh temple, which was fortunately still open the day we went (the temples having been asked to shut down). For that, my heart was full.
As I was grateful for the experiences we were able to accumulate during the trip, namely Rajasthan in its best winter finery: the mellow winter sunlight drizzling through jharokas and stained glass windows, bougainvillea flowing down walls and into lakes, a man wrapped in a blanket-turban one chilly gray morning, kachnar trees in full bloom and dropping mauve love letters everywhere, cheeky monkeys playing hide and seek in the fog-smothered trees at the base of the Kumbhalgarh fort, and feeling cold after so long, gazing up into clear star-sprinkled skies while warmly swaddled in my winter coat dating from my Pittsburgh days:)
And since no trip is perhaps complete without one mystifying or unusual incident, ours took place on our last night in Udaipur. Having had a lovely rooftop dinner in a hotel, we were trying to order a cab back to our hotel but with no success as night curfew was on then and it was past 10PM. Looking up our hotel on the map, it appeared that the hotel wasn’t so far away so we (read: husband) came up with the bright idea of walking back to it. I can’t remember the last time I walked at night and that too in an Indian city and was feeling jittery but husband eventually persuaded me to do so, saying it was only one and half kilometres away. The route took us from the hotel through a briefly unlit section of the road, heavily wooded on either side, and just as I was getting anxious, we thankfully encountered lights and what appeared to be a garage of sorts. Presumably upon hearing our voices, the two men stepped out of the garage, a little surprised to see us there and that too at that time of the night. “There is a graveyard down the road, Madam should tie her hair up and then only walk past it,” one of them firmly said after we told them our plans. While husband was more interested in asking as to the reasoning behind women tying their hair up and the consequences if they did not, I was petrified of going past a graveyard at night (hair tied or not!) and insisted that we try to find an auto on the street again. We eventually did find a kind auto driver who took us back to the hotel even though he had almost shut shop for the day. More thoughts about this experience later on in the newsletter:)
We returned to Bangalore, leaving behind fog and unseasonal winter rain (aside: no matter how much we try to escape gray skies, they still always manage to find us during our holidays, please tell us how to overcome this bad weather karma, ha:) to find ourselves in a fog of another kind. What with so many getting infected, the re-imposition of weekend and night curfews, a couple of covid exposure scares, and staying in at home once again, one couldn't help relive the trauma from the beyond terrifying second wave and wondering if we are forever doomed to be on this pandemic hamster wheel with brief interludes of freedom/normalcy. In the midst of this gloom, the pink trumpet trees decided to burst into glorious bloom, as if nature was offering us recompense in midst of these difficult days. Thanks to rains which persisted well into November and even December last year, the trees had been sulking and refused to bloom then…and they seemed to be now making up for their earlier silence. We made a trip to Cubbon Park to witness this magnificent tree theatre, the blue skies providing a most willing backdrop to the flower finery on show. This image can only do so much justice to actually seeing this tree in bloom, the cheerful yellow-hearted pink bunches of flowers like flower cumuli. I haven’t been to the parks since and so the leaves must have replaced the flowers by now but their memories and pictures will nourish me for some time to come.
I have been following Pakistani artist, Shehzil Malik for a while now but these fabulous series of illustrations particularly caught my eye. To quote an extract from her post caption, ‘'I’d been wanting to draw my version of this for a long time -‘Sultana's Dream” is a story written in 1905 by Rokeya Sakhawat Hossain, a Muslim feminist writer and social reformer from British-India (present-day Bangladesh). She describes a feminist utopia that was a mirror-image to the world she lived in- one where the men are kept indoors (called “mardana” as opposed to “zenana” spaces), and the women run the country!’ Malik goes on to elaborate upon the story in more detail in the caption so please do read it in its entirety.
I haven’t yet read this story but I have encountered its reference many times, thinking this story would be considered so electric and subversive if it was published today, let alone when it was written well over a century ago. But it made me also think: will this feminist utopia ever truly materialise? One of the things that this illustration brought up for me was the crucial idea of women’s presence in the public space, how joyously women are accessing and inhabiting it in the art, unlike the extremely lopsided, unequal, and unsafe access that women are subject to in reality. Looping back to my Udaipur graveyard story, I wondered afterward if the women having to tie up their hair requirement was a cautionary tale, to discourage women from going out at night at all. Perhaps, the utopia will only become a reality the day when women can freely walk alone at night, without fear, without startling at sounds, their own shadows losing the capacity to scare them, when they will not recoil from a man passing by, their hands reaching for a pepper spray or keys or whatever is their chosen mode of protection. I was perhaps frightened of the ghosts that may have come curling out of the graveyard had I decided to walk past it. But the truth is that for women, there are far more frightening creatures than ghosts lurking in night’s darkness, far more terrifying consequences nested inside them.
But for now, I will take hope and courage from both Rokeya’s story and Shehzil’s incredible interpretation of it.
Shall end here for now, dear readers. Hoping that the month ahead brings us more cheer ahead:)
Until next time,
Much love,
Priyanka
Endnotes:
What I wrote:
A feature on Saudi Arabian artist, Manal al Dowayan’s collaboration with Dior in which she reimagined the Lady Dior bag, imprinting it with her art and also creating what I see as a wearable sculpture bag inspired by the desert rose crystal. I wrote about fashion after a long time and also, Manal’s work which I last saw in Muscat back in 2010:)
Humblebrag alert: sharing glimpses of my interview with JADEN magazine, where I talk about my art, the role it has played vis a vis my mental health, creative processes, and more. The magazine via small leaf press champions undiscovered and underrepresented writers and creators of well-being and self-discovery and gives them a wonderful opportunity share their stories and voices - and I was especially glad to share my journey on this platform.
What I watched:
Given that I was mostly home throughout this month, I watched a lot of stuff, mostly new although there were a lot of Seinfeld episodes on the menu too.
I saw The Babysitters Club S2, which I had been meaning to watch for the longest time and I think the makers have done an even more brilliant job of adapting the beloved book series this season, making it so contemporary, aware, and accessible. I love all the actors playing the main characters in the series and hope that there will be a forthcoming season as well.
The final season of This Is Us upon us and the last episode, oh my god, the waterworks were well and truly flowing after watching Milo Ventimiglia’s performance.
Real life is a lot more potentially scary these days so much so that I, the former ‘I never ever watch horror movies or shows’ person, am actually ok with watching them now. Archivist 81 definitely fit the bill but it was also a meditation on grief, loss, and the desperate desire to reconnect to those whom you have lost across boundaries of time and space.
Links I read:
"But hopeful people tend to break down complex or difficult pathways into an array of smaller steps that can be tackled one at a time. They’re under no illusions that all their pathways will work, however. They understand that bad things can and often do happen. So, realising that some of their plans could become blocked, they tend to try lots of different pathways."
An interesting piece which distinguishes hope from optimism. This read gave me a lot of strength during what was a bleak month.
I haven’t watched the SATC reboot, And Just Like That in entirety, just clips on YouTube, in fact, I have probably read far more about it then actually getting around to watching it, ha. This piece about Carrie’s sari-lehengas mess in the Diwali episode encapsulates so much as to where the show is going wrong on several fronts. Also, I would be totally interested in watching a spin off dedicated to Seema or even hearing what Natasha has been upto, loved how elegant, dignified, and even compassionate she was in her brief appearance in the show #teamnatashaforever