Aboriginal Australian arts have the Indians enamoured

Durga Vishwanathan, is ensuring vast Australian landscapes fit into small Indian homes

Hypnotic combinations of lines and dots in myriad colours conveyed the stories of Australian animals, people and landscape to viewers in the Delhi recently.

However, it took some clever marketing on the part of Indian-Australian curator Durga Vishwanathan to ensure the success of the Desert Dreaming exhibition which showcased over 80 works by 43 artists from Warlukurlangu Artists Aboriginal Corporation, Australia.

While the choice of 'master' artists as well as emerging artists, provided buyers a mix of price points, Vishwanathan, who is originally a Mumbai-girl, made another critical curatorial decision: “I must also say that I chose the works that I thought were generally small in size to fit in Indian homes, although Delhi houses are much larger than Mumbai flats.”

And the tactic seems to have worked—37 paintings were sold at the average price of AUD1,000, despite the economic slowdown. “Gallery dealers in Delhi did comment that the economic crisis has had an impact on the art market in India, as it has all over the world. We were very pleased with the results of the show in view that things have slowed down for everyone and the exhibition was only on for one week,” says Cecilia Alfonso, coordinator of the Warlukurlangu Artists Aboriginal Corporation.

Opening the exhibition, Australia’s High Commissioner to India, John McCarthy said, “India has a longstanding tradition for the art produced by its tribal and traditional communities and there is growing interest in Aboriginal art in India and around the world.”

It is easy to see why Aboriginal art with its distinctly bright colours, mesmerising use of symbols to convey ancient stories must resonate specially with Indians Yet trying to compare Indian tribal arts and aboriginal Australian art is quite futile say the curators.

“What intrigued me was that a lot of Indians especially from the 'art world' were trying to find similarities between Indian Aboriginal art and Australian Aboriginal art—specially the art from Bhopal, because they use dots too. But the main difference is that art from Bhopal is representational while this is abstract,” says Vishwananthan.

“Some of the artists who visited our exhibition saw a lot of similarities in the artworks displayed and their own work,” she adds. “A lot of people did think that there were lots of similarities between the aboriginal art and Indian tribal art. India is such a huge place with so many different styles as is Australian indigenous art. The style, colours, designs are very particular to a specific region in Australia too. It’s impossible to generalise,” says Alfonso.

So, along with the financial success, it was the opportunity of opening up the rather unknown world of Aboriginal Australia to Indians that this exhibition achieved. While urban Australian icons like the Sydney Opera House have replaced the otherwise eponymous Swiss Alps in many a recent Bollywood films few Indian tourists coming here take any time out to see the traditional arts, or the vast bush land of Australia.

However, when aboriginal Australia traveled to them, the Indians were enamored—they loved the vivid colours and uninhibited palette of the artworks, says Vishwananthan.

“The response of the Indian audience was extremely positive. They seemed to like the colour and the designs, and were intrigued by the way the paintings tell a story in a non representational way,” says Alfonso. “The audience was very reception and also curious, they asked lots and lots of questions about the art, stories, designs and use of colour.”

The stories and symbolism of these art works are after all extremely unique and interesting. The works in this particular exhibition are from the Yuendumu aboriginal community of Central Australia, along with some works from the Nyirripi community located 160km southwest of Yuendumu.

“All the stories in the paintings relate directly to the artists country, the animals, people and features of the landscapes,” says Alfonso.

As a desert community, in particular the waterholes, find an important place in these works. The seemingly abstract works actually represent the Aboriginal dreamtime—known as jukurrpa.

“All the stories are creation stories about events that took place a long time ago but which are equally applicable to society today,” explains Alfonso. The artists speak in a symbolic language—the layered circles can mean waterhole or meeting place, U shapes mean person, a male is usually next to spears and boomerangs, curved lines are flowing water, small lines are clouds and so on.

“These designs and symbols belong to the longest continuously surviving culture in the world to today,” adds Alfonso.Traditionally, the aboriginal people would dance the story and decorate their bodies with the same designs that they now transpose onto canvas.

They would also draw the designs on the sand as they told the stories or do ceremonial ground paintings. It is these designs that they now paint using modern materials.

“Aboriginal culture was oral, they had no written tradition. So they used song, dance and storytelling to pass down information from generation to generation—information which was vital for the Aboriginal people to survive in one of the harshest environments on earth,” says Alfonso.

“They needed to pass down knowledge about what animals were available to hunt where, what other foods were found in what places, most importantly, where the reliable water sources were. They were maps which showed you how to get from place to place, how to navigate across this vast land. The stories were repetitive as it made them easier to remember, told in a way similar to poetry, through songs.”

For instance, Magda Nakamarra Curtis’ Jamu Jamu Jukurrpa (Jamu Jamu Dreaming) represents the sand hills near Tjukurla, used during ceremonies, and as hunting ground for goannas, birds and small mammals.

Meanwhile, Bessie Nakamarra Sims’ Pamapardu Jukurrpa (Flying ant Dreaming) is a brilliant blue representation of the flying ants that build the large anthills found throughout Warlpiri country. These ants are collected and eaten, when they flee their old earth mounds lost to floods, to build new ones. Concentric circles are used to represent the mingkirri (earth mounds) and the dashes around the circles represent the pamapardu (flying ants).

Each jukurrpa can be depicted in numerous ways using varied colours and the Indian exhibition had various versions of the same jukurrpa too. “Traditionally the Aboriginal people in this area used natural ochres to paint the designs on their bodies,” says Alfonso.

“Warlukurlangu is one of the oldest art centres in Australia and the people here have been painting on modern mediums, ie canvas and linen since 1985 using modern acrylics.”The Warlukurlangu Artists’ Cooperative is totally aboriginal owned and the artists get 50% of the art revenues, while the remaining 50% goes towards wages and paying for materials and all costs associated with running this business. “In recent years we have been very successful at marketing the work and profits have been steered towards community projects,” says Alfonso.

Delhi—a city of fresh food, people and jugaad

Sophea Lerner captures the many auditory layers of our capital city, creating soundscapes as varied as Delhi itself.

“Delhi is many cities, and many ideas of what a city is, all layered over each other… a Mughal city, a colonial city, a city of villages, a globalised city, to name a few. There's a lot to think about and learn about and engage with here,” says sonic media artist and broadcaster Sophea Lerner.

The Sydney girl has been exploring these many aspects of our capital city, through sound and radio making practices as part of a research towards a Doctor of Creative Arts at University of Technology. She is in Delhi through an affiliation with the Sarai programme at Centre for the Study of Developing Societies (CSDS). Sarai is a platform for creative collaboration between researchers, practitioners and artists reflecting on contemporary urban spaces and cultures in South Asia.

“Urban spaces and processes are what really fascinate me… transit spaces and the sounds of movement around cities,” says Lerner. “Delhi is a city going through some big changes—not for the first time in its history. There are many cities in the world, which are undergoing dramatic changes, but the context of Sarai and a long string of coincidences led me to this one.”

The string of coincidences began when she met Monica Narula and Shuddabarata Sengupta from RAQS media collective (one of the initiators of the Sarai programme) at Alchemy—an international master class for new media artists and curators—at Brisbane Powerhouse in 2000. In 2006 Sarai invited Lerner for a two-month residency to work on project called Cybermohalla (run in collaboration with Ankur an alternative education project)

“I had a great time collaborating with people here and found Delhi a very stimulating place to be, so I wanted to do an extended period of creative research here and continue working with Sarai,” says Lerner. She went back in October 2006 to do the Sonic Arts Residency with Khoj workshop (an artist led, alternative space for experimentation) and has pretty much been there ever since.

“I work with sound and public spaces. I am interested in exploring how spaces are contested, claimed and re-imagined through sound,” says Lerner. And there is often a contest for space—in Delhi, as in other parts of India—between the government and administration, the burgeoning traffic and property development, the street-side hawkers and shanty dwellers. Lerner has captured some of these disputes in an auditory format for her projects.

Just after the Supreme Court decided to ban the cooking of food on the streets of Delhi, Snack City was a celebration of this street food. This open call-in based project was presented on a cart at the MediaWala Festival. It was the culmination of a two day workshop with local and international remote participants exploring the taste, smell, sound, culture and politics of street food.

This physical performance involved live calls, live remixes of pre-recorded calls from remote participants in Helsinki, Finland and live net calls from other places streamed live to a cart with speakers and cooking vessels which was moving around the festival venue.

“The technical set up was relatively complex, but it came together very quickly without a lot of planning because it was supported by human networks that have built up over many years through various collaborative projects and the foodradio_network,” says Lerner.

“Talking to street food vendors was the most interesting aspect for me,” recollects Lerner. “We spoke to a chaat-wala at Connaught Place who had been making chaat on that spot for 35 years and his father before him before the show—now he has disappeared.”

Besides exploring the appreciation of street food, Snack City was also a comment on the local specificity—the place that this food holds in the culture of Delhi. “In general Delhi-ites identify very strongly with the street food as an important element of the city's culture, something for which it is famous and which gives it an important part of the city’s character,” says Lerner.

Yet, like the many “Delhis”, there are many Delhi-wallas, and each has their own perception of the street food. “There is a real danger that this appreciation becomes merely nostalgic amongst middle classes. On the other hand, auto drivers we spoke to, for example, said if there was no street food, it would be hard for them to get a meal when they are out working,” says Lerner. “So it's part of a bigger picture of how street life works and who is participating in the life of the city.”

The other participants are those who live in shanty towns—commonly known as zopadpattis—often bulldozed down by the administration in the name of ‘beautification’, leaving them homeless.

Lerner’s other project, Where is Nangla Maanchi? (New Delhi, 2006-still in progress), an installation project for Khoj Sonic Arts ‘06 Residency, explores one such thriving community that disappeared under the bulldozer.
The project was undertaken as personal response to hearing the sounds at Nangla Maanchi basti on the west bank of the Yamuna both before and after the violent demolition of this community in mid 2006.

The title came from the experience of having to explain to autorickshaw drivers where I wanted them to drop me and trying to verbally put this place on the map when I was talking to people who didn't know where it was,” says Lerner.
The installation—an atmospheric set up of sounds and visuals, recreate the community that once was, and the ruins left behind today—even just looking at some visuals of the installation on a website gave me goose bumps.

As recordings of the before and after soundscape weave through each other, visitors are invited to step into the images of the site projected onto fabric drapes they can walk amongst. Bricks from the demolition site are presented alongside photographs of the spot where they fell. Torches are provided for personal examination of these material relics of a demolished locality as visitors listen to the voices of the former inhabitants and the vacated sonic panorama left behind.

Throughout the installation space, in English and Hindi, are some reflections and questions addressed to the viewer which attempt to situate the presence and absence of the locality in the memory of the city. “The people who lived there have moved on, but the city might still remember itself as it changes,” says Lerner.

“I was not in Delhi during the demolition—only some months before and some months after,” says Lerner, guiding us to nangla.freeflux.net, for documentation and discussion on the stories of Nangla and the demolition itself.
“The last time I went there before the demolition, when we did the street recordings, I had 20-30 kids crowding round me to take turns listening to the sounds of their own locality on my headphones.”

She describes her experiences upon return to find Nangla Maanchi demolished. “It provokes strong feeling when you go to a place and meet people and have a great time and then you come back and the place isn't there any more. It looks like a war zone with a sea of rubble. People’s personal things—notebooks, soft toys, a shoe—are sticking out of the wreckage.”

“All the houses, built up over 30 years that you passed before, where people were working and laughing, have been broken open so the blues and greens of the interiors you didn't see before are scattered with the sea of bricks. It is a very violent contrast. Going back to record felt like walking on a grave,” Lerner recollects.

Nangla Maanchi is of course among the many such communities that are often demolished, with little concern for the dwellers, their history, or even their future. “Some people see narrow streets, small houses, urban agriculture and food animals and it all goes into one basket in their head,” says Lerner.
For instance, just next door to Nangla Maanchi, Lerner tells us, is a small village called Nangla Gaon where people have lived for generations, moving from farming to dairy farming after their lands were submerged when the river moved in its plain. . “They have paperwork going back more than 150 years,” Lerner says.

“In November 2006, a few months after the dust had settled from the adjacent demolitions, their village was bulldozed following a handwritten, unsigned notice stuck to their mandir giving them a week to get out. They went to the court but the bulldozers came while a hearing was pending.”

Typical of Indian resilience, everyone was still living in their houses, Lerner found—but the houses had no walls or roofs any more. “They offered us hospitality and told us their story. We wrote a press release for them and were able to put them in touch with some journalists.”

Lerner hopes to show the installation not in a pristine gallery, but in the context of what is going to be built at the site next. “If I do get to make something at the site later, then that will simply be about acknowledging what was there before—that this community existed.”

Even with this very apparent humanist and activist streak in her, Lerner says she is not interested in making a general statement about the politics of slum clearance. “I wanted to make a work that addressed my personal experience of returning to a specific place after this very brutal series of events,” says Lerner. “I didn't set out to do something political and then go off to research the issues. The work I do here is a response to what is going on around me, to the place where I am. Is that political?”

“At this very moment I can hear several houses nearby being demolished or rebuilt - this is a direct result of changes in planning laws which allow an extra two floors in residential areas.” In fact, the house she currently lives in—a barsati—is slated for demolition as soon as the landlord saves up enough to rebuild. “Right now this is one of the last barsatis left in the colony. These changes in the planning laws are related to the same debates around the Delhi 'master plan' that led to the sealing drives and demolition drives.”

“These are not remote abstract political concepts - these are the day to day realities of a city being forcibly globalised in preparation for the 2010 Commonwealth Games,” she says. “A few people are making a lot of money, a lot of people are losing livelihoods and/or homes, some things which work well in the city are being devalued and replaced by things which have already failed elsewhere. Some people call this progress.”

Besides, street vendors and slum dwellers, there is another victim of this progress—River Yamuna. Lerner collaborated with photographer and environmentalist, Ravi Agarwal on a piece for the international radio network La Radia through Free103.9 in New York when they ran with the theme, contamination.

Lerner did a live radio mix based on a recording she made with Agarwal by the river, combining his words with field recordings and sounds of dripping taps from her bathroom - which is of course connected to the river directly. There was also a live feed from her roof to situate the broadcast in time and place alongside other contributions from around the world.

“Delhi is a city with it's back to the river,” says Lerner. “Most inhabitants of the city have never walked close to it—never think about going there—never ever think about where their drinking water comes from or where their shit goes.”

“The river is actually very beautiful. You wouldn't want to swim in it or eat fish from it the way it is at the moment. But sitting on the bank behind Nangla Maanchi demolition site—with buffalos from neighbouring Nangla Gaon grazing next to you and looking across to the vegetables growing on the east bank—is like some kind of rural idyll tucked away in the middle of the city, complete with trees leaning over the water like some 19th century landscape painting—a surreal juxtaposition to the demolition site behind. The river is polluted but it's also beautiful.”

“There is always talk about cleaning it up but I sometimes think the main impetus there would be to make it look pretty so as to profitably redevelop the waterfront, as has happened in many cities around the world. The amount of food growing in and near the city is one of Delhi's big advantages as a place to live, it would be a real shame to see this all turned in buildings.”

Along with all the street food, it is this constant supply of fresh groceries that Lerner loves about living in Delhi. “I moved to India after working in Finland for 4-5 years, so I’d have to say that one of the big attractions here are the fresh vegetables—I now live 10 mins walk from the best vegetable market I have ever seen!”

“I also love the fact that for most little things that you need to achieve on a day to day basis you have to deal with people and not machines,” says Lerner. For instance, she much prefers the local kabariwala to the rebate machines in Helsinki.

“The kabariwala cycles past my house, and collects all my recycling and pays me for it. I don't have to carry it anywhere, and all the local kabariwalas have different cries that I enjoy hearing.” For those of us who moved to Sydney, for a better quality of life, we might find Lerner’s perspective surprising. “Things like good unprocessed food and the sociality of interacting with humans in your daily life are simple things which add a lot to quality of life.”

“I think one of my favorite things about living here is untranslatable—jugaad. It includes the idea of making do, hacking things together out of whatever is around, making objects and materials fulfil functions they were never intended for,” says Lerner. “That appeals to how I work, and every day I see things which inspire me in how someone has done something inventive with resources at hand, in order to make something work better. I think the DIY aesthetic has a strong resonance with a lot of Australian sound arts practices too, so I feel like this is a good place to make work,” says Lerner. “It also helps that there is the Lajpatrai electronics market - imagine dick smith crossed with Paddy's market and 10 times the size,” she laughs.

But there must be the worst bit about living in Delhi as well, I ask?
“I’ve found it hard to deal with the hierarchical nature of society here,” says Lerner. “Australia and Finland are both places with strong traditions of egalitarianism in how people behave towards each other. There are flaws in how those ideas work in practice but the ideas are there. Here the idea of hierarchy is very entrenched, and people in Delhi can get very hung up about status symbols. There is a pecking order and people want you to fit into it somewhere.”

“When the guy who is installing the internet connection at home makes polite conversation with the question 'Madam what caste are you?' I try to tell him that I’m not any caste, but I am unable to supply any answer that makes sense to him.”

For more information about Sophea’s work, visit http://phonebox.org/sophea

Sophea Lerner’s guide to eating in Delhi:

I asked Lerner if she had a favourite Delhi street food treat after her Snack City project—“Well that's an extremely tough question,” she said, unable to pick one, two or even just three.

Here is her personal guide to Delhi’s best street food.
There is a fried potato stall near Kashmeri Gate, which makes the best fried potatoes I have ever tasted. They have been making them for over 25 years, the secret is in their ghee.

I'm not a big fan of aloo tikkis, but there is a place on the corner of one gali which leads to the metro at Chandi Chowk that makes them perfectly crisp on the outside, perfectly soft inside and with a centre filling of spiced dal - that's pretty high on my list since I tried it recently.

The karela paratha in Parathewali Gali is an unusual combo that I really like.
But I think my favorite aloo paratha to date is from a local guy in Lila Ram market behind south extention where I stayed during the Khoj Residency.

My favorite egg rolls are from a stand in East Delhi at Madhu Vihar market. It got moved to different spots several times during the sealings but it's still there.
I don't have a great sweet tooth, but as seasonal specialities go, Daulat ki Chaat is top of the treats.

Painting an Indian wedding

Among the entries to the recently announced Archibald Prize by the Art Gallery of New South Wales, was Aaron Kinnane’s portrait of Australian singer Ben Lee—not swinging to one of his catchy pop tunes, but donning a shimmering Indian turban, and a rather pensive look.

“Ben’s time in India and the spiritual guidance from his guru is a very important part of his life,” reveals Kinnane who accompanies Lee to his wedding in South India. “I felt I had to make reference to it somehow with out going overboard and looking all Bollywood. When I saw him at his wedding ceremony he was wearing the headdress. I thought straight away that it was the reference I was looking for,” says Kinnane.

Meanwhile, under the gold turban, lined with pearls, Lee sports a regular T-shirt. “He also lives in Los Angele, which is a stark contrast in every way compared to India. The T-shirt is simply a reference to his western way of life…a humble Aussie guy living in LA,” adds Kinnane.

He first met Lee in November last year at a small show he played at Bondi Icebergs. “A friend of mine, Mike Campbell who works for universal music arranged for us to meet after the show,” says Kinnane. “He struck me as an interesting guy, not only in his physicality but also his story. We are a similar age so he is no stranger to me, having always heard both positive and negative press about him over the last 15 years or so through the media. He came across as an open, intelligent, warm kinda guy with a story to tell... good ingredients for a painting subject,” reveals Kinnane.

Lee not only agreed to sit for the portrait, but also invited Kinnane to accompany him to his wedding to US-actress Ione Skye, in India. “It was a very generous offer - one I couldn't say no to,” recalls Kinnane. “I'd never been to India before so I had no idea what to expect. So I booked a ticket and 2 weeks later arrived in Chennai.”

The wedding took place on the 29th of December at Sri Narayani Peedam—a charitable organization and spiritual community in a small village called Thirumalaikodi, just outside the city of Vellore in Tamil Nadu. Guests included director Nash Edgerton, musician Missy Higgins and former Home And Away star Jessica Chapnik

“Most of the time at the Peedam there were different pujas going on that you could attend,” sayd Kinnane. The schedule for the day included the opening of the temples at 8.30am and Gho Puja, followed by Abhishekam (the bathing of Nayarani) and Aarti (lighting of lamps).

“There were about 50 people staying at the Peedam so most of the time was spent meditating at the pujas together. In between we'd all sit around and eat and talk,” recalls Kinnane. “I spent most of my time talking with friends of Ben and observing how he interacted with others. It was a great environment to get to know someone. I’d draw each night in my room,” he adds.

However, it was only the day after the wedding that Kinnane managed to get some time alone with Lee. “Ben and I went for a long walk in down a country road outside the ashram. We talked about a whole range of things. I was determined not to have our time spent like an interview so the walk was great. Ben was really honest and open about all facets of his life,” says Kinnane.

It was only after he got back to his Sydney studio that Kinnane began work on the portrait. “My painting process consists of many layers of fairly bold colour,” says Kinnane. He worked off drawings and photos he had from the trip and had 4 weeks to complete the painting before the entries were due. “I was working round the clock to get it finished in time. After about week 2 I was going a little crazy,” says Kinnane.

“It’s quite a strange reality to be in a studio by yourself for a month focussed so much on another persons head! I felt like I was starting to lose the painting at one stage. Jessica Chapnik visited the studio to see the progress and after talking about the experience in India with her I felt I was focussed again to go on and finish the work.”

Though the portrait did not go on to win the prestigious Archibald Prize, it will occupy a place of pride in Lee’s LA home where it will be shipped as a wedding present from Kinnane after the exhibition. Images of the portrait can be seen on www.aaronkinnane.com

Meanwhile, Kinnane has returned from India with quite an admiration for the culture. Although he was only there for one week, he found time to see a little bit of the country outside of the Peedam. “I did manage to go into Vellore a few times. It was an assault on the senses. There was beauty and tragedy everywhere, side by side,” recalls Kinnane. As I made my way through the chaos of the traffic and streets, I wondered if there was such thing as a postman in that city and how he'd get about. I didn’t see a street sign anywhere.”

With an artist’s eye, Kinnane weaves some beautiful poetry around otherwise mundane sights. “The wires looked like someone had run around the streets throwing balls of wool from pole to pole making sure they tangled different colours at each junction box.”

And besides the minor hitch of concerns around hygiene, Kinnane quite loved the country. “The gutters and drains, well... very different to Australia. Don’t get me wrong! I loved it, I can’t wait to return to the amazing colours and aromas of spices and food, the unruly traffic, the wonderful friendly and seemingly ever smiling people.”

Kinnane is planning a trip back in September to explore further south with a writer friend. “We plan on working on an illustrated short story during our travels there, this time for a few weeks,” he says.

While still in Australia, we presume Kinnane will be practicing some of the Indian words he learned there, including “Om Namo Narayani” and gobbling down plates of Indian curry—“I am a huge fan of palak paneer.”

The Archibald Prize exhibition will continue at the Art Gallery of New South Wales until 24 May. For more information, please visit www.thearchibaldprize.com.au/exhibition
For more information about Aaron Kinnane, please visit www.aaronkinnane.com

Winners are Givers

“Being new in a country can be a very lonely and daunting experience,” admits filmmaker Ana Tiwary. “But going out there and volunteering can be a fantastic way of networking and making new friends.” Tiwary was recently nominated into the 10 finalists for the NSW Woman of the Year Award for doing exactly that.

Moving to Australia in 2007, with no connections and little knowledge of how the Australian media industry worked, Tiwary researched, planned and designed a mentoring program for three months before finally launching the Media Mentorship for Women (MMW) program in July 2008, for which she was nominated into the Award.

In Mentorship Round 1, 75 women were accepted into the program and 38 were matched successfully with mentors in the industry. In Round 2 the program has received 80 applications and the matching process is on at the moment.

To me, it seemed odd at first that a woman, struggling to establish her own career in a new country, would start off by trying to help others. “I found out that the number of women in technical areas in the media industry had dropped in the past 10 years and felt that something needed to be done to change these declining numbers,” recollects Tiwary. And there was a personal angle as well. “I felt that I would greatly benefit from having a mentor in my field of work,” she says.

Often one individual’s quest for an answer or solution, resolves the same problems for the entire community. Just as Tiwari’s recognition of the importance of a mentor, lead her to develop a program that now helps women in the mainstream film industry, another Indian woman’s pursuit to ensure her children continue to learn and respect their culture, lead to a school, that now acts as a centre for the entire migrant Indian community.

Mala Mehta, won the Hornsby Woman of the Year Award 2009 as part of the NSW Woman of the Year Award ceremony, for her contribution to the community through the Indo-Aust Bal Barathi Vidyalaya (IABBV) Hindi School. Mehta says, “I did not want my daughter to forget Hindi.”

She was obviously not alone in this need—“There were a lot of Indian expatriates in the area—some who were only here for a short time, and felt that their children should continue to learn Hindi. I also found it difficult to teach my daughter at home—it is always easier to teach with others around.”

Established in 1987 the IABBV is the first Hindi-language institution in Sydney, and today runs 12 different classes having more than 140 students.

Though the initial ideas for both initiatives were in response to a personal need, both women recognised the importance of giving to the society that they were now calling home.

Mehta ran the school as a free institute for 12 years—and even now charges a nominal fee to ensure structured learning, combined with committed teaching and attendance. Even today she accepts that the Award is hardly recognition of simply her individual contribution. “The award is not just for me. It is recognition for the entire community—the women who help run the school, the teachers, and especially the parents,” acknowledges Mehta.

Tiwary similarly put in selfless hard work for the mentorship program to take shape. “I decided to put aside one year of my life to volunteer full-time to ensure that the program has strong foundations and will be sustainable in the long run,” says Tiwary. “I spent days and many nights trying to get funding, sponsors and mentors on board and running every aspect of the program with the support of the Women in Film and Television (WIFT) NSW committee. All the hard work has paid off, because the program is not only very popular in the media industry circuits but has been successful beyond my expectations,” she adds.

As with all socially beneficial efforts, there is the supreme sense of satisfaction that can rarely come from a personal achievement. “I feel I am involved in something very valuable and helping women filmmakers has been a tremendously rewarding and fulfilling experience for me,” says Tiwary.

“A lot of immigrants, especially women who are waiting for their PR or are finding it hard to find paid jobs, will benefit greatly from volunteering a few hours a week. You will not only learn about mainstream society, improve your language, social and professional skills, but also get a sense of satisfaction from giving back to the country that has given you wonderful opportunities,” advices Tiwary.

Her message to new Migrants: “Please do not feel that you have nothing to offer or that you don’t have the skills to make a difference. Immigrants bring with them a wealth of knowledge, rich experience and unique ideas that if put into action, can make a positive difference in mainstream society. Do not wait for someone to create opportunities for you, do not feel helpless and alienated, go ahead and take initiative, be involved in Australian society and make it your own.”

Ana’s journey from Mumbai’s slums—to war torn Liberia—and into the Capitol Building, Washington

Ana Tiwari moved from Washington DC to Australia in mid 2007. “My husband loves Sydney and was not keen on moving to the US, so after our wedding, I took on the challenge of moving to yet another country and starting from scratch,” she says.

Soon after arrival, she joined Women in Film and Television (WIFT) NSW and started working as the Technical Director for the WOW (World of Women) Film Festival. She launched the Media Mentorship for Women (MMW) program in July 2008 with support of the WIFT NSW committee and her husband. She is now the Vice President of WIFT NSW, and the first woman from the film and television industry to be short-listed for this prestigious award.

“I have moved from one city to another and one country to another many times throughout my life, so I am familiar with the difficulties involved in trying to establish a career in an unfamiliar city,” says Tiwary. Her greatest challenges were that she knew absolutely nobody in Australia and wanted to enter the industry at mid-career which is way harder than trying to start at entry level. “Luckily I found WIFT and started to volunteer and work with the committee. Slowly I got to know people and in less than half a year, I feel that I have a very good understanding of the Australian media industry and this year I have started working at a film production house,” says Tiwary.

“Although I am still an Indian citizen and feel ‘Indian’ at heart, I also love Sydney and feel accepted and at home in Australia,” she adds. Her heart, as she admits, resides in the “hauntingly beautiful” Shillong, the capital of Meghalaya in the North-East. “This is the place where my soul belongs. No matter how far I travel or how many years go by, a part of me will always remain in Shillong.”

There are of course a millions “Indias” within India—and another, quite dramatically different landscape and culture captured Tiwary at anther stage in her life. Soon after completing her BA in Video Production from St. Anthony’s College Shillong, Tiwary moved to Aamchi Mumbai to study Animation and Computer Graphics for a year. “I ended up falling in love with Bombay and stayed on for 4 years,” says Tirwary.

In the city of dreams and toil, she “worked very hard” as an Assistant Director in television, advertising and films. Ask any Mumbai lover, about their strongest memories of the city—and it’s usually got to be the local trains and Bollywood. “The worlds largest film industry is in one city – Mumbai, so living there, travelling by the local trains and working in Bollywood can be extremely challenging but a fantastic learning ground for all filmmakers. It is a tough industry for men and women, so only those who are absolutely passionate about making films survive beyond the first few days,” she recollects. “As part of my work I got to travel around the world on film shoots and had the most wonderful time. I would love to make an out an out Bollywood film someday,” she adds.

Tiwary has some fantastic film work under her belt. She wrote, directed, shot and produced Breath of Life at the age of 19. “It was a very low budget docu-drama about environment protection and how children can help make a difference. It went on win the Best Film Award, aired on Doordarshan and made a huge profit for the investor,” she says.

In 2006, she produced, directed and filmed the Liberia film for a National Geographic Channel series called Women at the Forefront. The documentary captures the Women’s Peace Movement that brought about an end to the 15-year brutal civil war in Liberia and the election of the world’s first Black woman President, Ellen Johnson Sirleaf.

“Liberian women are very inspiring and are working very hard to re-build their country from the ravages of war. When I was in Liberia, there was no electricity or running water and the country was in complete shambles. The flight to and from Liberia itself was an adventure because the only airline that travelled to Liberia had just had 3 accidents in the preceding week,” recollects Tiwary. “I had the opportunity to interview several former child soldiers who are trying to integrate into mainstream society and was deeply moved by their tragic stories. Most importantly hats off to Liberian women, who embody empowerment and personify positive energy and strength,” she adds.

In Australia she recently wrote, directed, shot and edited Astronomy for Aboriginal Students for the University of Western Sydney in early 2008. “The number of Aboriginal students taking up University education and specifically science subjects is extremely low. With this film I got to learn more about Aboriginal Astronomy and culture, I got the chance to interact with Aboriginal Students and encourage them to consider taking up science in the future,” says Tiwary.

She has also worked in the Development Division of National Geographic Channels Headquarters in Washington DC. “My job involved reviewing documentary proposals from around the world and helping with the selection process. Since I was in development, I did not actually make films but I learned a lot about documentary funding and development.”

Tiwary has also interviewed a range of World Leaders, including Hillary Clinton. “My first day of work at a TV Network in Washington DC, involved going to the Capitol Building and interviewing Hillary Clinton.” Tiwary interviewed her about the formation of the India Senate Caucus. “I went on to produce segments that involved interviewing numerous Senators, Congressmen and other world-renowned personalities such as Joe Biden, Nancy Pelosi, Donald Rumsfeld, Henry Kissinger, Condoleezza Rice, Indian PM Manmohan Singh, Hungarian PM, Jack Welsch, Sunil Gavaskar, Kapil Dev, Amitabh Bachchan, Shabana Azmi, Nandita Das, Deepa Mehta and numerous other dignitaries who visited Washington DC,” says Tiwary.

She also covered several events such as the 2004 US Elections, Tsunami Relief efforts, Katrina Relief efforts, the Virginia Tech tragedy, Indian PM’s visit to the US and even the slums of Mumbai, now at the centre of global attention with Slumdog Millionaire. Though Tiwary’s work was far more realistic than the pastiche offered in the commercial version.

Her documentary, on which she worked with Michael Reichmann, a filmmaker from Germany, is about the conflict between those who live in the slums and those who want to get rid of the slums to make Bombay look beautiful.

“The experience of making this film was heartbreaking and life transforming for me. I cannot forget the faces of the children I met in the slums,” says Tiwary. She even rattles off the statistics with a burning passion. “Slums cover only 6-8% of the city's land even though 62% of the population lives in them,” says Tiwary.

“The problems faced by slum-dwellers are manifold. They have to pay large sums of money to the slum lords before they can move into a small room in the slums. The water mafia charges so much money that a person living in slums ends up paying more for water than someone living in a posh building. The police and politicians have no sympathies for these powerless people, who are mostly immigrants from rural areas across India,” says Tiwari.

“When I was filming several thousand slum dwellers had been made homeless because the government decided to spend millions on bulldozing slums without caring to provide rehabilitation. I had the opportunity to meet Medha Patkar and was inspired by her commitment and devotion to being the voice of the powerless for over 20 years.”

However passé, it is difficult not to ask her about Slumdog Millionaire. “As a piece of fiction I enjoyed ‘Slumdog Millionaire’ and hope that this film will help bring the issue of Mumbai slums to the forefront and help charities raise more money to support slum dwellers,” says Tiwary.

Yet, it is hardly possible, for someone who has seen these slums at such close quarters to truly “enjoy” a film that simplifies such complex social issues. “It is interesting how Danny Boyle has successfully turned a very disturbing scenario into an entertaining film,” says Tiwary.

“I know a lot of Indians are upset by the film, but then again a lot of Indians prefer living in denial and can sometimes be blindly Nationalistic to the point that they refuse to see problems faced by their own country men. I love India, but my nationalism is not tied to my identity and I can see things for what they truly are,” says Tiwary.

“In fact, I believe that those who truly love their country, are able to acknowledge the problems and try to pro-actively solve them rather than trying to sweep the dirt under the carpet. In my films I want to showcase India in the right light, in a balanced way, a positive image but with honesty.” I hope she makes the film very soon—I trust a woman of Tiwary’s sensitivities will surely stand up to the challenges of portraying Aamchi Mumbai with the heart and intelligence she rightfully deserves.

Meanwhile, if you have interesting immigrant stories to tell, please email Tiwary at ana.tiwary@yahoo.com. She could well turn it into a film.

Turning Tihar into an Ashram

Kiran Bedi remains a determined and inspiring figure even today, all thanks to the Sunrise, writes Shivangi Ambani-Gandhi

It is one thing to see Kiran Bedi on film or TV and quite another in flesh. No camera, and certainly none of the words in this article, can capture the enthusiasm she exudes. Even now at 59 years of age, and just couple of inches over 5 feet, Bedi—the first woman to join the Indian police service and became its highest serving female officer—is still a towering figure—barely contained on the stage of the National Maritime Museum in Sydney, where she gave a talk on prison reforms recently.

Bedi is of course, also very well known for transforming Asia’s, and perhaps the world’s largest prison—Tihar, inhabited by the country’s most notorious criminals—into an ashram, by introducing the ancient meditation practice of Vipassana.

Crisply dressed, in her characteristic simplicity—white shirt and black vest, with short cropped hair—rarely standing still, Bedi talks fast, with an unwavering gaze and searing honesty. She is definitely showing no physical signs of ageing, and lacks none of the determination, ambition or wit of her early years.

She laughs heartily while watching a film clip of the incident when she towed away then Prime Minister, Indira Gandhi’s illegally parked car; dramatises animatedly her many conversations with the prisoners of the notorious Tihar Jail in India; sternly refuses any admittance to defeat “You never fail, you only keep trying,” she says; and yet exudes a yogi-like calm when referring to her retirement—“I could have stayed another two years, and become the Commissioner to enjoy the benefits offered by the Indian Government, but I knew I would not be challenged.”

Bedi was in Australia to support (and not promote, she insists) Australian filmmaker Megan Doneman’s documentary on her life thus far, Yes Madam, Sir (also covered in an earlier issue of Indian Link), which was only the second film in its history to get a standing ovation at the recent Adelaide Festival. “Megan has made a film on my life already,” says Bedi. “I tell her that she may have to make a sequel.” Doneman says of the experience of following Bedi’s life for 6 years, “It was exhausting, she walks very fast.”

Bedi’s insights into prison reforms were inspiring and revealing. “The prison reforms came from my own belief in the value of time,” says Bedi. “The inmates could either waste time, or invest it.”

She recollected her first days in Tihar. “My office was rat-ridden, because none of the previous officers had used this office. They all preferred to sit in offices of power, closer to the Ministers. But my job was here, in the jail.”

She did not dress in her uniform, too ensure she looked ordinary, and took rounds of the prison and spoke directly with the prisoners. One of the myths circulating the prison was that when an officer got too close to an inmate, he had his little finger bitten off by the inmate. Bedi found that the superintendents and the prisoners were locked in a vicious circle of revenge. “The key was communication. I was not afraid of having my finger bitten,” she said.

One of her first questions to the prisoners was, “Do you pray?” “I knew the prisoners needed to look deeper—I had to make a real change in their minds and hearts,” said Bedi. After one of her Assistant Superintendents mentioned the benefits of Vipassana that he had himself experienced, Bedi brought the ancient meditation practice into the prison.

On the 10^th day of the Vipassana program—the day of breaking silence—not really knowing what to expect, Bedi attended the session. “Many of the hardened criminals were crying. ‘We were nursing revenge, but now we seek forgiveness,’ is what many said,” recollects Bedi. “Other prisoners then also wanted to take it on—Vipassana has to be voluntary, of course,” says Bedi.

A course for more than 1,000 students was conducted by Mr. S.N. Goenka and his assistants from April 4-15, 1993—and the Vipassana program still continues today. It is legislated by the Indian government for Indian jails and has now spread to USA, Israel, Mongolia, New Zealand, Taiwan, Thailand and UK. In fact, inspired by this success, in Australia, Spirit of India ran Yoga classes at Dillwynia correction centre at Windsor in 2005 and 2006. From March 2009 onward they shall start Yoga classes at Parramatta Transition centre for inmates.

Meanwhile, Tihar also became the only non-smoking prison in the world, under Bedi’s dictate, she recollects. “We were ahead of the times. The Indian Government only recently legislated all public spaces as non smoking zones,” she said.

One of her greatest challenges at Tihar though, was budget—or rather the lack of it. “There was no reformation budget. If you wait for budgets it won’t happen – the prisoners will simply drink themselves away,” said Bedi.

She maintains that prison programs can only be run by the three Cs—Community, Collective and Correction. So to get community involvement, Bedi used her goodwill from her previous postings, with schools and colleges, to get volunteer teachers as well as books. The jail’s library came from publishers—the slightly defected books that would have otherwise been thrown away. She then brought the media in—“This brought an avalanche of goodwill,” says Bedi—always playing her cards perfectly timed.

Just as she does not believe in asking for a budget, nor does Bedi believe in asking for permission. “I did not go to the government to ask for permission. If I did, it would have taken them three years perhaps to give an answer,” she laughs. “Whatever authority I had, according to the manual, I used it,” she says unflinchingly.

Tihar turned all the garbage into manure, which was sold to fund education of the inmates. Bedi also started the India Vision Bread School, now known as the Tihar Baking School—using inmate skills to bring fresh bread to the jail and is now selling it outside too. “They have changed the name, and that is fine. Kiran went away, but the programs stayed, which is great,” says Bedi, who is genuinely pleased that her otherwise jealous colleagues and successors have at least not endangered the many beneficial programs she started.

Yet, of course there were many incidents when colleagues and seniors deliberately tried to pull her down. She recollects the first time she was invited to Bill Clinton’s National Prayer Breakfast Meeting at the White House. “I was asked to decline the invitation. So I declined. But I knew it was an annual event, the invitation will come again. And after the Magsaysay Award, sure it did,” laughs Bedi who knows how to lose the small battles to win the war.

“I was of course upset. I did not unpack my bags and headed straight to work. I went to the jail and danced with the women inmates and forgot all about it. That is what Vipassana teaches you—to leave it behind.”

She even admitted, with rare honesty, that she would have quite easily left her family behind if they had come in her path. “My husband was the most non-interfering man,” said Bedi to an audience roaring with laughter. “However, if he had come in my path, I would have left him. My daughter is very loving, but if she had come in my way, she would have gone to boarding school. My parents too were very supportive. It could have been a very lonely life, if my family had not been so supportive. But in my family, everybody was a giver, no one was a taker.”

Bedi now hosts a TV show, called Aapki Kacheri. “I am a judge resolving many matters. And we intertwine the show with awareness of law,” said Bedi. She also hosts a radio show, meets several speaking engagements and runs two websites for police reform—saferindia.com addresses complaints that the police won’t take and indiapolice.com encourages Indian Police from across states, languages and hierarchies to communicate.

When asked where her enthusiasm comes from, Bedi had a wonderfully simple answer, “From the Sunrise.” She said, “Every morning, each one of us gets 24 hours to do the best of what we can. The Sun never tires of rising does it?”

Yes Madam, Sir will release theatrically in Australia later this year.

Desis shine on at Sydney Mardi Gras 2009

Desi participants in the Mardi Gras want to send a message home.

The theme for Mardi Gras 2009 couldn't have been more appealing for the desi GLBT community in Sydney—'Nations United'. Under a theme that celebrates diversity, the Mardi Gras Pride Parade will be an opportunity for the community to express their pride in their sexuality, and their cultural heritage.

"There are about 25-30 South Asians marching in the parade with ACON (AIDS Council of New South Wales)," says Roopali Pandey, director of Trikone—a social support group for GLBT community of South Asian descent in Australia. "We will dress in traditional, flamboyant costumes and carry the flags of all the representative nations—India, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, Nepal. Imagine, India and Pakistan can't stand each other back home, but here we will all unite," she says laughing. "We are marching as South Asians."

While asserting the South Asian identity in the mainstream GLBT community, they also aim at making a point to governments and conservative groups back home. "We are trying to send a message back home. We will be carrying banners against Section 377," says Pandey. Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code identifies homosexuality as a punishable offence. Trikone was also present at Fair Day—the official launch event of the Mardi Gras held at Victoria Park on 15th February.

Meanwhile, Mardi Gras regular, Visakesa Chandrasekaram brings a theatrical dance piece to the stage as part of the Mardi Gras. Gods in War is based on a mythological tale—"a South Indian legend, prominent in Kerala," says Chandrasekaram.

It is believed that Lord Vishnu transformed into a woman, Mohini, to fight demonic enemies. Lord Shiva fell in love with Mohini, and their love bore the child, Ayyappa, who refused the company of women. "The story of Ayyappa is a very pluralistic one. In Hinduism there is a clear place for people of different sexualities," says Chandrasekaram.

More than the allure of a mythological tale, replete with opportunities for dramatic presentation and traditional costume, there was a deeper reason for Chandrasekaram to pick this tale for the Mardi Gras. "A lot of homosexual people don't have any spiritual guidance. Many believe that religions create hatred against homosexuality, and they turn atheist," says Chandrasekaram. "However, every religion teaches love of all humans. Hinduism doesn't refute homosexuality, but accepts it through characters like Mohini—a transsexual."

Chandrasekaram with two other dancers will incorporate Bharatnatyam, Kathak, Kuchipudi and Kandyam (a Sri Lankan dance form similar to Kathakali), with English dialogues. "These works also create an interest about our subcontinent, Hinduism, Buddhism," he says. His last play, Butterflies in the Mughal Garden, played to houseful audiences and was loved for its ethnic elements.

"Mainstream Sydneygroups started to find out about our group. We have built respect in the community as a talent. South Asians also bring some depth and new perspectives to the discussion (about sexuality)," says Chandrasekaram, about the South Asian community's growing visibility in mainstream GLBT events like the Mardi Gras.

He also recently directed a short film, Finding Kamal, about a South Asian gay man, living with transgender men. The 15-minute film, produced in association with Salaam Namaste, another South Asian GLBT group in Australia, was launched last week.

"There are always South Asian events happening in our community that don't always get mentioned in mainstream media," says Chandrasekaram. He has also finished writing a new play about Phoolan Devi, which his group is hoping to develop as a community project, rather than a professional one. "There are a lot of talented people within the community, and we want to give them a chance. So the actors will be selected from the larger community," says Chandrasekaram.

Similarly, Trikone held their inaugural film festival, Gulmohar: South Asian Queer Film Festival in Sydney over three days from the Indian Independence Day last year.

Both Chandrasekaram and Roopali Pandey agree, that the South Asian community within the larger GLBT one in Australia, has its own peculiar challenges. "As a gay migrant, you are a minority, within a minority," says Sadhana Jethanandani, another Trikone director. "Culturally there is so much pressure and guilt, especially with the concept of family," she adds. The Aussie can easily walk away from family, if they refuse to accept his/her homosexuality, she believes. "For a South Asian, saying f*** off to the family is the last option."

Groups like Trikone and Salaam Namaste aim to reach out, and create a forum for South Asian homosexuals. Trikone meets monthly to share their stories. "Our aim is to provide a space where they can be comfortable even for an hour," says Jethnandani.

Yet, the organisation offers full confidentiality to those who are not comfortable coming out. "We offer a non-judgmental environment, and maintain confidentiality if required. Members can come out in their own time," says Pandey.

The groups also act as a support group for new immigrants. Trikone is currently helping a young Indian who fled from Delhi after his neighbours beat him up. "We are applying to Amnesty to help him with his Permanent Residency as well as helping him find a job. This is what we are here for," says Pandey. "We want to be a support group, not just a social group," adds Jethnandani.

Of course it isn't all work and no play for these groups. Trikone's next event on the cards is a Pink Bollywood party. "We have found a gay-friendly DJ and we are planning the party for end of April—enough time to recover from the Mardi Gras," she laughs.

Gods in War, 25-26 Feb, 6.30pm Riverside Theatres, Parramatta and 1 March, 7pm Factory Theatre, Marrickville
Mardi Gras Pride Parade, 7 March, starting Oxford Street, 7.45pm