not worth fighting

by Rahul Bhattacharya on Thursday, 04 November 2010 at 14:34

a smile on a fragile face
seeing narmada from dharaji
mornings
nights
the last rains of the monsoon
window sills
birthdays
tiny dreams
powercuts
the strength of magic
so many cups of coffee
a bath by the river

collateral damages of an army assault
in kashmir
in delhi
in assam
in nagaland

don't feel like fighting back
the army has no conscious
its not worth fighting against

We are on the same Boat Brother: Probir Gupta

     

In the dystopia of Jihadist contemporaneity, the history of Judaism in India offers Gupta a ray of hope...a beautiful constellation of memories and histories through which one can celebrate alterity and propose (a) new humanism(s). Jews of India, (unlike) the Jews elsewhere, have had a peaceful history and though, economically they have never been able to match up with their Euro American  counterparts, they have led a happy life here, living comfortably with Hindus, Muslims and Christians[1].  In the year 2006, Gupta painted the famous ‘The Bene Israel Family[2]’ (Acrylic and iron oxides on canvas). This Bene Israeli[3] community rose to prominence and thrived in the Indian sub continent, at a time when Jewish communities faced persecution in Europe. The distorted pink background draws on the history of the Holocaust whilst the Bene Israel family emerges from this background in indigenous attire, as native Indians of the subcontinent. Along with this, there was another canvas ‘Islam the Caretaker of the Bethel Synagogue[4]’.

 This beautiful reality was dismissed as whimsical myth making by his American white audience. As a response Gupta comes up with a deeply researched and layered ‘We are on the Same Boat Brother’, a work through which the artist digs deeper to present the Jewish synagogues in Kolkata as symbols of the accumulative heterogeneous culture of the Indic subcontinent[5].

  

‘Islam the Caretaker of the Bethel Synagogue’ depicted the family of Khalil[6] (a poor Muslim family of Orissa) who have been looking after the Bethel Synagogue for many years now, and with the dwindling Jew population of the city, two of his sons[7] (along with a have also begun looking after another nearly synagogue[9].   The assemblage itself (re) presents this vision of utopia, through layers of forgetting and nostalgia. Texts, objects and sculptures engage in multiple oxymoronic relationships, as if consciously highlighting the tension between the dominant dystopias and hidden utopias.  The sewing machine (like the distorted pink background of the ‘Bene Israel Family’) evokes a history of the Jewish History Museum  (Berlin), even as the video projection lingers on the contemporary history of the Jewish community of Kolkata, the two synagogues and their caretakers. We see the facade of the ‘Jewish School’, with a steady stream of young Muslim girls (students) gushing out, and an interaction with the owner of the city’s oldest Jewish bakery[10].   Gupta’s assemblages have a definite scenographic quality, and the ambiance created is unmistakably rooted in the ethos of old ‘Calcutta’ interiors, the figure of (goddess) Saraswati, the typewriter perched on a table, a large fishbone standing on an anchor, found photography and text, come together in both a critique of fashion and a proposal for alterity.

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[1] http://clarionjournal.typepad.com/clarion_journal_of_spirit/2007/07/the-jews-of-ind.html

[2] Currently in the collection of Saatchi and Saatchi

[3] The Bene Israel Jews speak Hindi and Marathi, the languages of the Maharashtra state. Once thriving and populous, the Bene Israel group now accounts for about 3500 to 4000 people. Most of them live in Mumbai, and only a few families live in Calcutta and Delhi. The majority of the Bene Israel, which is ten times their population in India, moved to Israel.

[4] Which has been acquired by a collector from Morocco

[5] The Jews of Calcutta came from Iraq and Syria and were known as the Baghdadi Jews. They were a prosperous lot. Then two events — the Independence of India and the creation of the promised land, Israel — changed the fate of the community here.

[6] Whose father Moharram Khan began working in the synagogue.

[7] Anwar Khan and Imraan Khan. Anwar, who are in their late 30’s.

[8] Magen David or the Shield of David stands on Biplabi Rashbehari Bose Road (previously Canning Street). It’s a five-minute walk from Bethel. Magen David has a tall spire that rises above the structure like a beacon, painted a bright red. But the entrance to this grand building is entirely hidden by stalls selling hairclips and other trinkets. The synagogue was built in 1884 by Ezra’s son Elias David Joseph Ezra, in the memory of his father. The synagogue is built in the Italian Renaissance style and has a red brick finish. It looked beautiful against the blazing summer sun. The interiors are as pretty as Bethel, prettier even. Ornate floral pillars shipped from Paris enhance its Continental look.

[9] http://www.telegraphindia.com/1081225/jsp/opinion/story_10296397.jsp