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The arts have traditionally sustained on fringe economies. Patronages, fellowships, residencies, prizes, collaborations, volunteer-run publications, and sporadic bursts of funding. It sounds chaotic — and it is! — but there is something breathtakingly courageous about separating value from currency. These small, plural, often unorganised systems hold space for human endeavours that cannot be (or haven’t yet been) coded into our constructs of commerce.
When I was a little girl, I used to wait in the school library for my father to pick up my sister and myself. The library would shut at 4 PM, and each child was issued one book to take home. I would invariably finish most of the book just waiting there. As the clock inched towards 4 PM, my anxiety would build up. If I couldn’t finish the whole thing, I would not be able to take home a different book. And then what would I do all evening? What would I do after dinner? Before breakfast? So I’d rush through the end of my book, desperately glancing at the clock with every turn of the page.
By 3:30 PM most of the students would have left, and the library assistant Mr Balakrishna would start clearing the books and locking up. I did not realise it then, but the pace of his work changed according to the urgency of my reading. He delayed the last few tasks so that when I finished my book — sometimes well past 4 PM — he could issue me a new one. Amidst his stacking and sorting, he looked out for me. Wordlessly, he made time for kindness, even though he may have had his own children waiting for him at home. In the self-centred manner that is peculiar to children, I did not really notice this then; I simply thought I was lucky.
I am more alert to kindness now, and have been haunted by the value of that orientation. We know something is priceless when it cannot be repaid. The gift, as Lewis Hyde put it, cannot be so easily contained. Instead, it has been translated, transported and transacted into other systems of nurturing and championing literature.
Unsurprisingly, along the way, I’ve found brilliant collaborators who are also fuelled by this most natural and most human of energies. If you would like to keep the circle of karma going, please connect with me at any of these initiatives:
The arts have traditionally sustained on fringe economies. Patronages, fellowships, residencies, prizes, collaborations, volunteer-run publications, and sporadic bursts of funding. It sounds chaotic — and it is! — but there is something breathtakingly courageous about separating value from currency. These small, plural, often unorganised systems hold space for human endeavours that cannot be (or haven’t yet been) coded into our constructs of commerce.
When I was a little girl, I used to wait in the school library for my father to pick up my sister and myself. The library would shut at 4 PM, and each child was issued one book to take home. I would invariably finish most of the book just waiting there. As the clock inched towards 4 PM, my anxiety would build up. If I couldn’t finish the whole thing, I would not be able to take home a different book. And then what would I do all evening? What would I do after dinner? Before breakfast? So I’d rush through the end of my book, desperately glancing at the clock with every turn of the page.
By 3:30 PM most of the students would have left, and the library assistant Mr Balakrishna would start clearing the books and locking up. I did not realise it then, but the pace of his work changed according to the urgency of my reading. He delayed the last few tasks so that when I finished my book — sometimes well past 4 PM — he could issue me a new one. Amidst his stacking and sorting, he looked out for me. Wordlessly, he made time for kindness, even though he may have had his own children waiting for him at home. In the self-centred manner that is peculiar to children, I did not really notice this then; I simply thought I was lucky.
I am more alert to kindness now, and have been haunted by the value of that orientation. We know something is priceless when it cannot be repaid. The gift, as Lewis Hyde put it, cannot be so easily contained. Instead, it has been translated, transported and transacted into other systems of nurturing and championing literature.
Unsurprisingly, along the way, I’ve found brilliant collaborators who are also fuelled by this most natural and most human of energies. If you would like to keep the circle of karma going, please connect with me at any of these initiatives:
Poetry Editor, The Bombay Literary Magazine
The Bombay Literary Magazine, now in its 10th year of ‘operations’, celebrates literature that is uncommonly told. Within the independent litmag ecosystem where any kind of survival is success, the magazine has not just thrived but established itself as a nucleus around which other literary ecosystems may flourish. We are proud to be first publishers or early publishers of several celebrated writers, and to feature established writers from around the world. Our dearest achievement however, is our fabulously committed team of editors who volunteer their time to seek out, enhance and celebrate the words of others. For this, the world is a little brighter.
Poetry Editor, The Bombay Literary Magazine
The Bombay Literary Magazine, now in its 10th year of ‘operations’, celebrates literature that is uncommonly told. Within the independent litmag ecosystem where any kind of survival is success, the magazine has not just thrived but established itself as a nucleus around which other literary ecosystems may flourish. We are proud to be first publishers or early publishers of several celebrated writers, and to feature established writers from around the world. Our dearest achievement however, is our fabulously committed team of editors who volunteer their time to seek out, enhance and celebrate the words of others. For this, the world is a little brighter.
Literature Curator, The Kala Ghoda Arts Festival
The Kala Ghoda Arts Festival is now celebrating 25 glorious years! Mark your calendars for a special nine-day extravaganza of literature, theatre, cinema, music and all things art. The festival is held in South Mumbai’s beloved cultural district, across theatres, museums, libraries and art galleries. Our Literature sessions take place in the historic David Sassoon Library Gardens, and feature some of the finest writers of our times. The festival is known for how it situates cross-disciplinary literatures, where a text may form linkages with other visual, performance, architectural, historical or culinary art forms. To propose a program, write to us at literature.kgaf@gmail.com
Literature Curator, The Kala Ghoda Arts Festival
One of the oldest cultural festivals in India, The Kala Ghoda Arts Festival is a nine-day extravaganza of literature, theatre, cinema, music and all things art. The festival is held in South Mumbai’s beloved cultural district, across theatres, museums, libraries and art galleries. Our Literature sessions take place in the historic David Sassoon Library Gardens, and feature some of the finest writers of our times. The festival is known for how it situates cross-disciplinary literatures, where a text may form linkages with other visual, performance, architectural, historical or culinary art forms.
Cofounder, The Kolam Writers’ Workshop
The Kolam Writers’ Workshop is an annual, two-week, in-residence program for writers who are ready to truly make the leap. Anil Menon and I designed this workshop for the writers we used to be when we were just one book old. The program is immersive, honest and transformative. In a country that has zero MFA programs for creative writing (yes, zero!) and just a handful of allied courses, this workshop is not enough. It cannot be. And yet, our alumni have gone on to win awards, publish in prestigious journals, occupy key roles in publishing and to even establish workshops of their own. The workshop reinforces our faith that sometimes, for some people, in some ways, we might just be enough.
Cofounder, The Kolam Writers’ Workshop
The Kolam Writers’ Workshop is an annual, two-week, in-residence program for writers who are ready to truly make the leap. Anil Menon and I designed this workshop for the writers we used to be when we were just one book old. The program is immersive, honest and transformative. In a country that has zero MFA programs for creative writing (yes, zero!) and just a handful of allied courses, this workshop is not enough. It cannot be. And yet, our alumni have gone on to win awards, publish in prestigious journals, occupy key roles in publishing and to even establish workshops of their own. The workshop reinforces our faith that sometimes, for some people, in some ways, we might just be enough.
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