कला की कद्र- Through the Lenses of An Indian Artisan

 "India is a hopeless country and I must shift to the US to pursue education." "You say Picasso, I hear Legend." "Damn girl, did you hear the new gig by Bieber?" "Bollywood movies are hopeless, imma watch some American rom-com instead."   Somewhere between these thin lines, we've actually forgotten the incantation casted by our country's artisans. We are surrounded by mentalities that think coolness decreases with an increase in fondness towards our country's artists and artisans. Such is the condition of Indian artisans, lost in the big crowds of people trying to be modernized (westernized, if it makes any difference). The falling culture of ours demands nothing but praise and awareness.    

How in God's name can we not give due credit to the land that has nurtured us?  Somewhere, in a small town in Rajasthan, a craftsman must be shaping a doll, pouring all of his endless experiences and anecdotes into that one speck of wood. Somewhere in Kerala, a dancer must be performing Kathakali by reflecting upon all of his/her escapades. Somewhere in the beautiful town of Katra, a woman must be singing a Dogri geet while reminiscing about the days when her culture was valued. Even after 73 years of Independence, we still follow the principles of the culture that they have left behind. Artists and Artisans are an untold story. It's extremely imperative to bring their stories to every ear. There's a lot more to Indian culture than what meets the eye.  Why can't we get lost in Indian thalis instead of heavy Mexican platters? Why can't we spend an evening listening to Lucky Ali instead of Ariana Grande? Why can't we not read the verses from Geetanjali before reading a Shakespearean sonnet? What is the mere use of existence when we can't foster the jewels that reside on the same land as ours? The data schemes that one often tends to hear about how the government is saving the artisans from exploitation are neither realistic nor do they reveal the actual status of the craftsman industry. They are humans like us. Or I should say that they are better humans than magnificently modernized humans like us.   

We are sailing on the ocean of negligence, far from acceptance of our own identity, with having no plans of returning. If you're not proud of India's craft, you're not capable of even turning up to idols of Sita mata, the mother of Madhubani art or Saraswati mata, the devi of music. We are the verses of Geeta and the Holy Quran. We lie in the purity of Sri Guru Granth Sahab and the Holy Bible. We lie in freshness of chai and pakodas. We exist in the aroma of a fresh Gajras. We are, instead, the extra spice in the food from a dhaba, the soothing beats of a Tabla and the melodies of a flute. We are the beauty of ghungroos and aalta. We are the soul of Bharat Mata and right now we are letting her curl up and smother. 

a.s