Tuesday, February 7, 2017

Indian design stories; An anecdotal history of Indian design

Preamble
--------------
Stories are fun way of understanding profound philosophies. They work in our minds subconsciously.
I grew up listening to stories and then started writing and telling them, not only as fiction but also as part of my conversation or my lecture. Friends and students who love me asked me many times to write them down and share with all.
As 2017 resolution, I am taking a plunge and promising them that I shall write one anecdote every Sunday through out the year. These Indian Design Stories are dedicated to them who include- Jagjot, Shalini, Suresh Immanuel, Anjani, Deepthi, Tania, Suvarna, Vikas, Radha, Neha, Neetu etc. for a story belongs to the audience than to the story teller.
These incidents took place while I was a Designer-Teacher at National Institute of Design, between 1966 - 2006. I Changed the names only where the story reflected negatively on the person mentioned. The incidents however authentic.
Each story is a learning and a reflection on Indian Design.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


 WK 1: Presence of Design: Dalai lama
--------------------------------------------------------
It was a hot afternoon in Ahmedabad.
I was officiating Director of NID as the Director Vinay Jha was away.
I suddenly get a telephone call from ISRO that his highness Dalailama is in transit through Ahmedabad that day and generously agreed for a brief meeting with the heads of the prestigious institutions in the city. The meeting was fixed at 4pm with a foot-note 'kindly be in time since his highness has to catch the connecting flight.
I involuntarily looked at my watch which showed 3.50pm.
I did not want to miss this opportunity nor bring bad name to NID.
I immediately asked Maharaj, our driver (don't ask me why a driver is called Maharaj, that is another story) to drive me to the venue, the Gandhi Ashram in Paldi. This was where gandhi stayed before moving to Sabarmati Ashram. It was not far from NID but became such a neglected place that I took a lot of time locating the meeting hall.Assuming it would be a talk by the great man, i took with me nothing but a pen and a scribbling pad.
Since it was already 4pm, I rushed inside, only to find that I was the first person to arrive.A couple of Khadi clad men rolled a dhurrie on the floor and I sat cross legged in the middle under the fan. The fan cooled me and made me grasp my foolishness and the organisers cleverness: The 'Indian punctuality'.
Gradually the heads of other prestigious institutions started pouring soon I found myself in the middle of a sea of 'Heads".
Around 5pm his highness arrived and sat cross legged on a Khadi Gaddi in the front.
Some one welcomed and thanked his highness for this opportunity and then started calling the name of each institution. The head of that institution would then go with a garland or huge bouquet of flowers, offer it to his highness and receive his blessings.
There was no talk.
Then to my shock I realised that I came without any garland or bouquet and there was no time to go out. NID name would be called any time. I would look a damn fool to go to his highness empty handed. I needed some quick innovative thinking. 
I looked around!
The 'Heads' sitting all around me had very huge garlands made of delicate roses which they are throwing around as a show off. I felt like chopping those heads off!
Then my eyes fell on the dhurrie where these garland were kept and scuttled around. A lot of petals came out. I waited with bated breath till their names were called, and as soon as each one was called and went to meet Dalailama, I quietly gathered the flower petals dropped from their over thick garlands.
NID and my name was called.
I got up confidently and went with my cupped hands brimful with rose petals and poured at the feet of his highness, humbly muttering "Design is different, Sir!".
He gave such a wonderful smile which stayed with me all my life!
.........5.2.17

No comments:

Post a Comment