drawings, comics & other opinions
Happy B’day Ruskin Bond
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Dear Mr. Bond, thank you for a lifetime of stories and keeping the hills in our bookshelves. It’s thanks to you, Mussorie’s Bhoot Waali Aunty now regularly puts the little one to sleep, on time! To many many more! Much love…@ruskinbondofficial
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#happybirthday #ruskinbond #vocalforlocal #portrait #illustration #childrensbooks #hills #author #portrait #portraitillustration #collageillustration
Hindustan times Edit Page
Published in MINT, Independence Day 2010
KL SAIGAL TheDefinitive Biography by Pran Nevile. Penguin/2011
Asian Age/ Deccan Chronicle. June 08, 2011
Back in the ’70s and ’80s, as we did not have a television at home, our media habits were fairly restricted to All India Radio. As the old Hindi film music played, my mother would sing along and often point out the highlights of the particular song. She was also instrumental in shaping our opinions (however relevant they might be) on particular singers. For her, Mohd. Rafi was no good (it’s only later we disagreed on this, forever), Kishore was ok, Talat was pure silk, Mukesh was a star singer as he was closest to the singer superstar K.L. Saigal (to this I still agree, the K.L. Saigal bit I mean). So when this book came, packaged with archival stills, filmography, synopses and even film reviews of Saigal’s films, I grabbed it.
With an attractive cover, written by the eternal nostalgist Pran Nevile, famous for his writings on Lahore, this book promised to be treat for Gen Next nostalgists like oneself. The definitive biography of Kundan Lal Saigal. Very few would disagree that the man, the eternal Devdas, truly was India’s first superstar. Tragedy King, Romantic Hero, Angry Young Man came much later.
In his introduction, Pran Nevile interestingly highlights the journey of Indian music, from the origins till it became synonymous with films and reached the masses. As a reader, this is an important chapter to understand the interesting points of convergence between mediums, disciplines and the various technologies. More importantly, he paints the scenario like a stage backdrop now ready for the superstar’s entry.
The book takes us through the milestones of Saigal’s life, based on the writer’s research, his interactions with the family members, film fraternity, fellow fans and his own memories of the great Saigal experience. One gets a peek into the life of an adolescent possessed with only music from his very early years as he accompanied his mother singing bhajans, his anxiety over his broken voice, the untrained genius who went around an undivided India doing odd jobs till he finally heard his calling and devoted himself to singing.
Acting was a bonus and the star arrived in 1932 with his debut hit Mohabbat ke Aansoo, produced by The New Theatres, Calcutta. Success was followed by super success. It is from here that the book slowly starts moving from a definitive biography to a chronological listing written well. The reader goes through the star’s journey, film after film, Puran Bhakt, Chandidas, Devdas, President, Street Singer, Bhakt Surdas, Tansen, hit after hit, in awe but often missing a probe into the man, forever pasted as the singing hero but nothing beyond.
In an era, when film viewing in India was more of a musical experience, one truly misses a peek into the star’s inner life; an investigation into Saigal’s oblivious lens of stardom, elements that only Pran Nevile could’ve provided. For example, it was an insight to learn that Saigal never particularly enjoyed his shift to Bombay and that his heart longed for the company in Calcutta. For the forever fans of Saigal, I am sure this too would be a fact well known. Interestingly, his personal account of attending Saigal’s only concert in Lahore, struggling in the queue, purchasing a ticket in black provides a far lucid account than many of the other chapters.
Personally, what come as a revelation is Saigal, the poet. His verses were a private affair, only in the company of his family and very select friends. Nevile brings those lines out for us. By the end the book is written by a die-hard fan, who’ll hear or say nothing less than a compliment. Hence, Saigal’s alcohol problem in the later years, a fact well-known in the Saigal circuit, is a touch and go. This clearly is a book by a fan for a fan. In the second half, Pran Nevile does a commendable job by providing lyrics of Saigal’s hit songs, his film reviews that appeared then, even web links to find the man on the virtual world.
What one longs for, is a bit more on the man himself. Baalam aye baso more man mein…
Vishwajyoti Ghosh is a Saigal fan and the author of Delhi Calm
View original post: http://www.asianage.com/books/down-melody-lane-397
The creative mistakes of globalisation
This book attempts to coerce Indian Patua art into a graphic novel but falls flat, says Vishwajyoti Ghosh
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| I See The Promised Land Arthur Flowers, Manu Chitrakar & Guglielmo Rossi Tara Books 138 pp; Rs 550 |
THIS GRAPHIC novel on Martin Luther King Jr is a product of creative globalisation. The author Arthur Flowers, a performance poet and American academic, considers himself heir to the western written and African oral traditions. Here he collaborates with Manu Chitrakar, a Patua artist of West Bengal, and his tradition of singing storytellers who unfold their stories visually through painted scrolls. With our thriving traditional visual practices, sooner or later this “jam session” (as the blurb calls it) had to happen in India. Channel [V] and animators have been on this bus for a while now; graphic novels have just hopped on with books like Lie, Bhimayana and I See the Promised Land.
Flowers writes lyrically in Afro-American English and the book reads well. Today, though, historical narratives are often challenged as the reader looks for something more. This book is a creative interpretation, humanely highlighting King’s prophetic vision and his alleged dark side. Still, it’s surprising to see King’s clarion call of “I have a dream” as a mere mention and not the strong double spread one expected.
Playwright GP Deshpande once said that “folk art can be very seductive”, which is a danger visible here. One misses a strong singular visual representation of King — the few references of Gandhi appear much more distinctive. It becomes clear the artist is illustrating, not co-writing, much less co-conceiving. Chitrakar is interpreting a foreign subject and a space in his own style, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But the dissonance lies between the points when he chooses to interpret more freely vs when he doesn’t. For example, he interprets ‘I have a dream’ as text in Bangla over a few placards and King’s thoughts on destiny, the Gods and the divine forces through Hindu iconography. The black jazz player may be in Patua style but he stays in a suit and plays the sax.
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One senses the images were conceived as free-size illustrations and then abridged, truncated and coerced into boxes for a modern graphic novel. And this brings in the third player, graphic designer Guglielmo Rosi, who re-reinterprets the structure, words and visuals through his layouts that open yet another dimension. In my opinion, design in a graphic novel should effortlessly facilitate the narrative. This book’s layout loses its lyrical text and vibrant illustrations, uses an overbearing typeface and creates three distinct, strong aesthetics working upon-each-other rather than with-each-other.
To quote King: “All I’m saying is simply this, that all life is interrelated… Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly. For some strange reason, I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be. You can never be what you ought to be until I am what I ought to be. This is the interrelated structure of reality.”
With words, visuals and design, so it is with graphic novels.
Ghosh is the author of the graphic novel Delhi Calm
View original post: http://www.tehelka.com/story_main49.asp?filename=hub210511Creative.asp
vishwajyoti ghosh 