Category: Fashion

Travel

Text by Shirin Mehta. Photographs and captions by Milonee Madiyar.

“A poor life this if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.”

–Leisure by William Henry Davies

“Bandra has something for everyone,” says Milonee Madiyar, manager at Veronica’s, Mumbai’s in-demand sandwich shop and cafe located in the suburb — and a recent model in Verve’s fashion editorial. “People flock to this area to grab a bite at the eateries that dot the numerous bustling lanes. Many youngsters now live here amongst their new-found community of freelance creatives. Old-time residents have seen this small village gentrify and change a lot over the last few decades.” 

Eager to go beyond the crowds that typify this area, even if just for moments, Madiyar trains her lens on the suburb’s quieter side, discovering flashes of solitude in a space mostly known for its energetic hustle. “It’s been a journey to experience ‘slow’ mornings in Bandra, which isn’t the most obvious adjective that comes to mind when you think of the suburb,” she stresses. The idea of observing the “everyday, seemingly mundane occurrences” is what she finds enthralling. “You’ll step out and you will see neighbours popping their heads out of their windows to see what the neighbourhood ruckus is about, or a cheeky cat hopping from roof to roof….”

Here’s Bandra through Madiyar’s lens of solitude…

Shadow Play
“People don’t have time to stand and stare. But if we stop and look around, we will see things that otherwise would’ve been missed — like the sun creating shadows. And then, for a brief moment, we could enjoy some childlike fun.”

 

Puckering Up
“The best part of working in a cafe is to be able to have fresh coffee as and when desired. The sound of the coffee machine and being able to see the brew being made first-hand — from bean to cup — is a great experience.”

 

By The Meter
“For people living in this part of the city, this is what their daily commute looks like. Here, we witness a moment of silence before the neighbourhood autowala gets ready to swoosh through the maze of the suburbs.”

 

At Break Of Day
“An early-morning smile can be very contagious. Some people wake up earlier than most to get small chores done — like washing cars —and get things ready to sparkle for the day.”

 

It’s A Sign
“Veronica’s is named after the street that the cafe is located on. Every time we open the cafe door and see the signpost, we smile.”

 

Conscious Delivery
“How difficult it must be to always run against the clock and deal with the city’s incessant traffic…all in an effort to deliver happiness.”

 

Go Local
“Fresh veggies, right around the corner. The experience of venturing out to buy your greens has in general become a rarity thanks to hyperlocal apps offering home delivery. The smell of fresh vegetables is a simple joy.”

 

Neighbourhood Watch
“Surveillance conducted by sincere gentlemen, relaxing cross-legged, fuelled by a well-earned cup of chai.”

 

Sun Dried
“A nice sunny day. Great for hanging things out to dry. A simple mundane task that all of us do, but it looks so different depending on where and how we live. Here’s a quick peek at a neighbour utilising his space creatively.”

 

At Play
“The happiness of cycling around the bylanes of Ranwar village in Bandra never gets old — the wind in your hair and the sun on your face. This simple pleasure captures the carefree spirit of childhood. Watching kids zip around these narrow streets, with the infectious joy radiating off them, reminds us to savour life’s little moments of pure, unbridled fun.”

 

Sleeping Cars
“Some well-maintained automotives. The covers don’t let the dust settle. It’s a standard practice — perhaps quintessentially Indian — that we have seen unchanged across time.”

 

Inquisitive Neighbour
“Ranwar village, situated on a busy street that has seen many changes over time, is filled with old homes and locals, many of whom are surprised by the way the environment has altered.”

 

Time Out
“Don’t we all sulk when our playtime is cut short? Some things never change. And the simple joys of childhood that make us lose track of time remain universal across generations. This scene captures a quintessential moment of a child reluctantly pausing while having fun — the emotion no doubt resonates with any adult who recalls the carefree days of youth.”

 

Closing Time
“Coffee cups at the end of every day, cleaned and stacked before the shutters go down.”

Interviews by Shirin Mehta. Photographs by Angus Guite. Styling by Shweta Navandar. Art direction by Asad Sheikh. Model: Milonee Madiyar. Make-up by Laila Dalal at Inega. Hair by Daksh Nidhi at The Artists Project. Fashion assistant: Samidha Jain.

1. Blue peplum dress, from Rajesh Pratap Singh; white shirt, from Quod; brocade koti jacket, from Nikyta; vintage gold earrings (used as brooches), from Beg Borrow Steal Studio; printed socks, from Theater; footwear, from Melissa.
2. Velvet bandhgala, from Rajesh Pratap Singh; dress reworked as headgear by Raw Mango.

“The cut of the jacket has been inspired by Yohji Yamamoto. It presents a blend of elegance and playfulness with its uneven panels and reversible character. The slits, where the panels are, allow for a sari to effortlessly blend and play hide-and-seek with it…. There are a multitude of ways to style it.”

-Nikyta Dhiman of Nikyta

 

Black-and-white striped jacket, from Ka-Sha; hand-painted woollen felt dress, from Ashish Karmali; white trousers, from Chola by Sohaya Misra; black pumps, from Christian Louboutin.

“The jacket is free size which allows our Indian consumers to layer it in interesting ways with multiple pieces, Western or Indian…. Following the pandemic, people have become more mindful of what they buy. They want to invest in pieces that are multifunctional. The construction of our overlays has a lot of wear which gives them a longer life cycle.” 

-Karishma Shahani-Khan of Ka-Sha

 

1. Crochet tops and pants, from Hook; choga chintz-printed jacket, from Torani; naturally dyed socks, from Kokun.
2. Quilted kimono jacket, from SWGT; buttoned overlay, from Button Masala; mesh skirt, from Shia Rai; off-white platform shoes, from Aroka.

“Jackets have always had a core place within the Indian subculture of fashion. I remember my school teachers wearing woollen trenches over their saris during school assemblies in Delhi winters…. However the experiential designs and sheer variety have made it go far beyond utility and it has transitioned into luxury.” 

-Karan Torani of Torani

 

Velvet bandhgala, from Rajesh Pratap Singh; handwoven metallic silk scarf, from Vaishali S Couture; handwoven structured silk dress in stripes (worn as skirt), from Raw Mango.

“The jacket is our go-to garment…it is a part of our design vocabulary… And as with everything else, with the new found confidence in our culture, this jacket represents us perfectly.”

-Rajesh Pratap Singh of Rajesh Pratap Singh

 

1. Peplum silk handwoven jacket, handwoven scarf, both from Vaishali S Couture; metallic skirt, from Rajesh Pratap Singh; leather boots, from Christian Louboutin.
2. Black dress, black underskirt, both from Quod; metallic sherwani jacket, from Rajesh Pratap Singh; black metallic stockings, from Theater; hand stack, from Foundree Jewelry.

“The current surge in the popularity of the jacket can be attributed to its versatility and ability to cater to diverse fashion preferences. Designers and consumers alike appreciate the jacket’s ability to seamlessly blend different cultural elements, making it a symbol of global fashion. Additionally, the rise of social media and the fashion-conscious consumer has contributed to the visibility and desirability of the jacket, further fuelling its popularity on the contemporary fashion scene.”

–Shweta Gupta of SWGT

 

1. Ceramic earring, from Foundree Jewelry; black pumps, from Christian Louboutin.

“The jacket has always been there in many forms in the history of Indian fashion. But I would say that in my collection, it is about giving Indian handmade weaves a global language and wearability, especially if we think about the materials that I use. My last collection was the result of who I think about while creating — a woman anchored in traditions but not caged in by them, a woman who wants to interpret traditions in her own way, with freedom. While I am very emotionally close to my khun jackets, I just loved the outcome of the experimentation with metal handmade weaves used for jackets in the last collection.”

-Vaishali Shadangule of Vaishali S

 

Wine & Dine

Text by Ranjabati Das. All interviews by Asad Sheikh. Photography by Angus Guite.

A dinner party or a luncheon is a social event, apart from being a culinary-centric one. It’s an invitation to witness a performance, albeit one that is more or less personal. It is situated at a private site — a home, where the host invites their guests into. It’s the ultimate gesture in many ways — an opening of a window or an interstice through which one is vicariously inducted into the host’s world — and I feel it deeply as I move towards 40. Being served food acquires a certain value as one grows older. Taste buds evolve and there is a gratitude attached to it. Having fended for ourselves by now, in the kitchen as well as the real world, we know the value of a meal cooked with care. Personally for me, the culture of hosting peers or attending parties where the food is cooked at home and a table is laid out punctiliously is then almost a coming-of-age ritual that is synonymous to “adulting” in a way. Overall, in the spectrum of socialising, it could be said that they signify a specific transition in attitudes and choices from twenties to thirties, where there is a gravitation towards more meaningful gatherings.

Imphal-born Daksha Salam too prefers intimate settings over “going out drinking or clubbing”, especially when it comes to meeting new people in a new city. Salam has a penchant for throwing meticulously planned luncheons and dinner parties where the only criterion is that guests are open to a menu “that is new to them”. “I love inviting people to a space that I have created — it means so much more and you can only do that when you are in a space where you feel comfortable allowing other people into your space. I don’t think I would have been able to do that at a younger age and it only comes with starting to understand yourself better. Hosting dinners and lunches is synonymous to coming into one’s own in a way. In fact, it’s something I used to fantasise about while growing up as a young queer kid in the closet. The idea of having my own space, a safe space that I can share with my loved ones, was deeply appealing.”

For 28-year-old Salam, who was employed by fashion label Raw Mango as a textile designer and stylist in Delhi before recently relocating to Bengaluru to work with artisanal cheese makers Nari & Kāge, the process is detailed. It ranges from curating the menu, sourcing, prepping and cooking to inviting guests, setting the table and creating the mood. And Salam feeds off his role as the lone host; he would much rather do it all by himself, says the self-proclaimed homebody. “I’m very specific about the prep and presentation…I don’t want anyone to step into the kitchen when I’m cooking. It’s my space.” It’s clear that it is one of the few ways he feels comfortable expressing love — a product of having grown up in a household where affection is not rambunctiously expressed and cooking is an ungendered family affair. For him, it’s a familiar territory. With whom we eat defines who we are. The meditative and primitively human act of cooking, feeding and eating has been seen to dissolve divides, whether these are generational, geographical or gender-centric. For Salam, food is sacrosanct as a medium — a common ground that enables him to freely assert his identity, build community and find his centre.

Salam takes us through the dishes that he cooked for the luncheon that he recently hosted for Verve….

THE MENU 

A vignette of the luncheon that Daksha Salam hosted for Verve.

Smoked Pork with Akhuni

“I learnt this recipe from my aunt who in turn picked it up from her Naga roommates during her college days in Chandigarh. The recipe has gone through several changes over the decades. But one thing remains the same, which is the akhuni (fermented soybeans) part of it. Fermented soybeans are a very essential ingredient in a North-Eastern household. Each state and tribe has its own special way of fermenting and consuming soybean. They are best paired with lots of chilli and salt. The dish is very simply seasoned with chilli, ginger, garlic and tomato. Crush the garlic and ginger separately. Cut the tomato into thick slices. Soak the bamboo shoots in warm water and rinse. Wash the pork and put it in a pressure cooker with adequate water.

Keep the lid off and remove the broth scum that floats. As the water starts boiling, add two teaspoons of salt. You can now remove the water or let it boil off. Once the pork changes colour and becomes slightly golden, add the tomato slices, chilli powder and whole chilli. Pour some water if it gets dried out. When the tomato and chilli blend in, add the fermented soybeans (akhuni) and stir. Let it simmer. Keep adding water to adjust the dryness. After 15-20 minutes of simmering, add the crushed garlic and ginger and simmer again for another 10 mins. Once the pork starts to release oil, you can add about a cup of water and the bamboo shoot. Make sure the pieces of pork are submerged slightly under water. Put the pressure cooker lid on and cook for 6-7 whistles. Carefully open the cooker once it cools. Use a fork to check if the skin is cooked well. Add salt to taste.”

Fresh Pork with Lai Xaak

“This is a dish that my father had developed at home for our Sunday comfort meals. Lai xaak is the Assamese word for mustard greens. My father who hailed from the Meitei community in Assam would perfectly combine Assamese ingredients with Manipuri cooking ethics. The lai xaak pork is one such dish. It is mostly cooked during the winters. The meat is braised in a simple concoction of ginger, garlic and chilli, and the flavour is amped up within the final 10 minutes with a handful of fresh mustard greens. Just this stew and a bowl of steaming hot rice make for the perfect respite on a cold winter Sunday.”

Bamboo Shoot Eromba

“Not every dish back home was lavish or meat-based. There were days in the week where a quick fix was needed to feed the entire family. One such dish that would satiate the entire family instantly was eromba. Pronounced “ee-rom-ba”, it is prepared with dried and fermented fish — known locally as ngari in Manipuri; “nga” means fish — and seasonal veggies that differ from family to family. The fish is first sun-dried and then fermented.”

“The other important ingredient here is the chilli. The combination of the chilli and the umami of the fermented fish coming together with wholesome seasonal vegetables — in this case, mashed potatoes — and a bowl of warm rice is uniquely pleasing.”

Singju

“This is a fresh spicy vegetable salad with thinly sliced cabbage, lotus and chameleon root, local fresh herbs, cilantro, roasted gram flour, roasted perilla seeds, chilli powder and salt. I remember my aunts eating it as they gossiped during tea time! It was almost like a rite of passage for us to consume a spicy singju with tea while we caught up with our friends.”

Karot Akhaba Ametpa

“Another dish that I was eager to prepare, ametpa is a spicy chutney in my mother tongue, Meitei. Ametpa is as simple as it gets — in this case, king chilli (known as u-morok in Manipur and bhut jolokia in Assam) is mashed with roasted fermented fish and bitter gourd (karot akhaba), with salt thrown in. It’s almost like the glue that brings the meal together. The bitterness from the gourd helps to mediate the spice and give a more rounded taste.”

Champhoot

“It is a common accompaniment in Manipuri households. Any seasonal vegetable — I used beans and bottle gourd — is boiled or pressure-cooked with water or water and sugar. I prefer to go with sugar as it helps balance the overall heat of the other chilli-based dishes. The boiled vegetables also help cut the overall fattiness of the meat dishes.”

Dal

“It is a very simple yet quintessential element of the menu. It adds that extra earthiness to the palate. The dal we grew up eating is very toned down. None of the tadka, ghee and masala here! It’s a very simple dish that uses masoor dal, mustard oil, onion, turmeric and salt. Garnish with coriander leaves. That’s enough to create a dal that is so wholesome. It complements the entire meal.”

Tender Coconut Ice Cream and Poached Fresh Peaches

The Interview with Daksha Salam
The Guests

Wine & Dine

Text by Ranjabati Das. All interviews by Asad Sheikh. Photography by Angus Guite.

Excerpts from the conversation….

Tell us a little about yourself.
My family is from Manipur but I grew up in Assam, mostly in a boarding school. Then I completed my degree in textiles from NID [National Institute of Design], Ahmedabad. I joined Raw Mango right after graduation and I worked with them until last year. Recently, I headed to Bengaluru to work with my sister and her partner who have started a company called Nari & Kāge, which is an artisanal cheese shop. We make cheeses ranging from the Mexican Manchego to Oaxaca. They started this project during the pandemic and, around the same time, I wanted to shift my career from textiles and design to a more food-oriented one.

Did you have any experience in the F&B industry prior to Nāri & Kage?
My mother ran a restaurant in Guwahati, for 15 years and my grandmother has been running a Manipuri food restaurant in Dilli Haat (an open-air complex catering to Indian crafts and culture) in Delhi since 1999. Food has always been a mainstay in the family, and the restaurant business has always been familiar ground for me. Food comes to my sister and me very naturally, almost instinctively.

When I was in the fashion and design field, I would feel drained at times and I always looked towards food as a form of catharsis. I would want to come back home and cook a meal for myself. When I started living alone, I began to try to make the food my mother would make, to eat the food that my grandmother would cook.

Cooking, especially in the wider South Asian context, is very often seen through a gendered lens. What was it like in your home?
In our household, cooking was anything but gendered. The men were quite active in the kitchen. They would let loose on Sundays and use the kitchen as a space to relax, have a drink, make a splendid Sunday meal and feed the family. They would go out in the morning and get the meat and other ingredients, and this was a weekly ritual.

Salam’s menu features an array of Manipuri dishes. Top right: The preparation of the spicy singju salad.

What kind of mood did you try to evoke at the luncheon that you hosted for Verve? Were there any particular ingredients, flavours and textures that you wanted to include in the menu?
I wanted to bring in that aspect of being a family, with my friends. One of my love languages is to cook and feed people. It’s always been that. I do it for a certain set of people who form my core group: my closest friends and my partner. I think I learned this from my family. We would never really say “I love you” or even hug. I feel that silent displays of affection driven by action are common in South Asian households and one way we would express our love is by cooking for each other.

In terms of what I cooked, it was mostly the food that I grew up eating. We traditionally use a lot of fermentation and I think that little kick of umami is something that we North-Easterners really love. And over the years, my friends have grown to love it too. We also use a lot of chillies — it is something that we can’t live without. Rice and salt, those are the other elements that will be there.

Do you find it difficult to source some of the ingredients in Delhi or in Bengaluru? Do you ever find yourself carrying ingredients from Imphal?
Delhi is really eclectic and has a huge North-Eastern population. We have places like Humayunpur where we can get the ingredients that we want. But there are certain ingredients that I do bring with me from my hometown. We have a paddy field at home and I crave that rice. So, I get three to four kilograms of that rice when I visit home. I mix it with other locally available rice — namely sona masuri rice — because I don’t want to use up all of it in the first few months. I go with the short-grain variety because it is easier for me to consume. I grew up eating it so my body is accustomed to it. I won’t say I’m a hater of basmati, but it isn’t for me. It’s great for biryani and pulao but it doesn’t suit the North-Eastern comfort food that I cook because basmati isn’t really used in North-Eastern cooking. I also bring smoked meats — namely pork and chicken — from home, specifically because I haven’t been able to find anything like them anywhere else.

How do you come up with your menus? Do they change seasonally? What are the usual motivating factors behind planning a menu?
My go-to menu is North-Eastern comfort food because I don’t even have to think about the process. It comes naturally to me. Beyond that, I love doing picnics in Delhi, with my friends — I will keep in mind the space we’re going to be in. I would prepare something that’s easy to eat, and include a lot of dips and finger foods. I create a spreadsheet and request my friends to pick up a few ingredients as per their convenience because it’s always nice when it is a collaborative effort.

For, say, a Christmas or Friendsgiving dinner, I love a good meat-based pasta dish, like a bolognese. I also like to bake whole-roasted chicken, shepherd’s pie, potato au gratin, rustic bread, strawberry and cherry pies for those occasions where I try to incorporate a more Western palate. Baking has come into my life since I’ve moved away from home. I didn’t grow up with it as it’s not part of our culture to bake bread or cakes. My mother would bake when I was younger but she would use a microwave. I bought my first oven when I was in my early twenties which is fairly recent.

Do you have a signature hosting style?
I’m very specific about the prep and presentation and I like it my domain. I say, ‘Sit back, relax, play the music, get a drink and let me handle this, don’t come into the kitchen.’ I don’t like anyone stepping into the kitchen when I’m cooking. It’s my space. One or two guests, who I trust, may be allowed in. In terms of style and aesthetic, I like making the guests feel at home, by creating a sense of warmth.

What was the initial motivation behind documenting your food spreads on Instagram?
I treat Instagram like my personal scrapbook that just happens to be public. I’ve seen people around me having an unhealthy relationship with social media. I put up posts — mostly around food — and then I’m done. I don’t necessarily have to interact with people on Instagram.

I’ve always liked documenting my surroundings. For us queer people, finding a sense of acceptance of ourselves coincides with making our points of view clear. Being queer makes you want to understand yourself. So you start observing more, and when you start documenting your observations, it transforms into an archive that can be used for self-reflection. When I create food, I photograph it. When I photograph a table, I don’t like it to be manicured. I like the candid aspects — people walking into the frame, going about their activities. I’m not going to ask them to stop for 10 minutes while I take photographs.

Would you say hosting these parties is a way to ward off homesickness? Are there any ingrained habits that you have inherited from your environment at home?
I studied at a boarding school and have thus been away from home since I was 12. So I wouldn’t really say that I’m not aware of what being away from home feels like. But when I was home for a few months during my final-year college projects that’s when I got the sense of what it was like to be in the kitchen with my mother. The thing is, she never really taught me how to cook. Maybe, she thought I’d be in the way — just the way I now feel when people come into the kitchen when I’m cooking. Sometimes I think, “Oh my god, am I becoming my mother?” She wouldn’t tell me if I had to use one teaspoon or one tablespoon of this or that. It was more like “Put this, put that”, and it was done. But spending quality time in the kitchen at that time, being fed, and feeding gave me a certain joy. So, nostalgia does play a huge part in all of t

When did you start hosting these food parties with your friends?
In Ahmedabad, while at college, there were a few seniors — from outside the city — who were living in rented apartments. They would invite us over and we would cook together. We created a community around food, which is such a basic need. The food that we made was also very basic. It was just dal, boiled vegetables, meat and rice, but cooking that together, and getting away from college and creating another space and community in kitchens through cooking was quite a turning point. So I would say that I started this practice in college. It was only natural that I would continue it once I got my own space and found my circle. When I moved to Delhi, I didn’t have any friends per se. To me, making friends is about creating life bonds in a personal space, and food becomes a medium for us to connect over.

What does the culture of eating together mean to you?
I just love eating, it’s as simple as that. In fact, I love eating alone. During my time in Japan — I was at Tama Art University in Tokyo from the summer of 2016 to the winter of 2017 as part of an exchange programme through which I studied traditional Japanese dyeing techniques — I would go to cafes alone, just sit there, observe, and eat alone. Eating alone is a really wholesome experience and I want people to do that more often. And just as I like cooking for others, I also like cooking for myself. Sometimes, I cook a whole chicken for myself and eat it over several meals because it feels so good to feed yourself. I think that’s so important.

But coming back to the idea of eating together, I think it stems from knowing how to feed yourself. When you’re having a wholesome meal, you want to feed your loved ones too.

Did your passion for table setting and food presentation ever seep into your previous role as a textile designer and stylist or, conversely, have you derived inspiration from design and fashion when it came to evolving your aesthetic sensibilities around food and table styling? Have these two passions ever found a meeting point?
I started at Raw Mango as a textile designer but by the time I left, I was doing so much more. Sanjay [Garg, founder of Raw Mango] and I developed a close bond. He recognised my potential and would give me the creative liberty to create the scene for various ad campaigns. That definitely gave me the confidence to hone my skills. He trusted me with helping with styling, doing the decor, setting the tables, sourcing the flowers and more. We did the Suzegad Festive 2023 campaign, which was shot in Goa, and that required a huge table as part of the main wedding scene that the campaign was centred around. We also curated a lavish dinner scene for the 2021 Romantics campaign, which we shot in Shimla towards the end of the year.

What does comfort food mean to you in the context of the food that you cook?
The comfort food that I have always been leaning towards, even while growing up, is very basic. You have proteins and carbohydrates, greens, nutrients, and to that you add your cravings. A lot of times, we don’t find nutrients in our go-to meals throughout the week, or we consume our food too quickly. We don’t really take in the flavours and textures of the food we eat. But at luncheons or a sit-down meal with your friends and family, you really savour what you consume.

How fluid is this entire exercise? How often do you organise these meals?
If it becomes monotonous at some point, I would stop it. There are days when I have planned these weeks or a month ahead, and there are times when I have planned the meal on the day itself. My partner is Chinese and he celebrates Chinese New Year. One year, during lunch at work, I thought it would be nice to host a gathering. Because it was to happen that night, and I really wanted to make it special, I planned an eight-course meal. So I feel it has a lot to do with my mood. While smaller groups of food gatherings used to take place at least twice a month, I would organise larger gatherings once in two months. The frequency increases between October and January which is packed with festivals and friends’ birthdays.

What is your go-to food in terms of cooking? What do you take into consideration when you’re cooking for others?
The food that I instantly connect to, that I can whip up at a moment’s notice, is the food that I cook at home and that’s something that I introduce to even those who are coming in for the first time. I feel like that becomes a really good introduction to North-Eastern food to begin with because a lot of times people haven’t really been exposed to it or even if they have heard of it, they have preconceived notions of what it could be like. There’s a whole conversation about the food smelling or tasting a certain way and it’s nice to see people opening up to food that they would not eat otherwise.

Is there a defining factor that is a common feature in all your parties? In terms of the modus operandi, what is a go-to method that you have discovered along the way?
In terms of decor and aesthetic, I don’t like to overdo it. Going with elements like flowers always works well — you just have to stick to what you know and people will appreciate it. All around my house, I have baskets woven in the Manipuri village of Patsoi where my paternal grandparents live. For Christmas, I’d normally do up my large pencil cactus plant. In terms of the mood, I usually look at creating a warm environment and making people feel like they’re at home. I want people to interact, and get involved, even though I don’t let them into the kitchen. Apart from that, I let them take control of the music and I also let them take control of how to proceed with the day or night.

1. A vignette of Daksha Salam’s Verve luncheon.
2. Lotus fruits and ceramic candlesticks feature in Salam’s table setting.
3. Naturals’ tender coconut ice cream with freshly poached peaches.

How important is the overall ritual of setting the table and is that something you saw or participated in while growing up?
I have this vivid memory of my mother saying how at age eight or nine, I would bring out the table mats from the cupboards and lay them out while waiting for the food to get ready. I would place the table mats on the table, lay out the plates and spoons in a certain way. It evolved into something bigger and bigger as I grew up. Having said that, I don’t believe in a really rigid format of how the table has to be set.

Have you ever hosted a gathering in your hometown?
When I went back to Imphal this year, in the first half, I did cook for my entire extended family — my aunts, my grandfather, my cousins. I was there for about a month so there were days when I would cook the usual food that we eat and they would get a taste of how I prepared the usuals. Every individual has a unique touch. So the way I would cook a curry or a dal is very different from the way they’ve always eaten it. Even though they use similar recipes, there’s always a slight change in the flavour when the cook changes. But then there were days when I would cook dal makhani or kosha mangsho, which is completely different from what they would eat in general. That’s something that I picked up on my own, in Delhi. I would look at recipes for comfort foods around India. Dal makhani is so emblematic of North India and I want my family to have that because it’s so rich and hearty. The same also goes for kosha mangsho which is mutton that is slow-cooked in the Bengali style. I remember eating it once in Kolkata with my father who grew up there. That was something that had been stuck in my head for a very long time and I tried to recreate the recipe. Occasionally, during Eid, I cook biryani, especially the Kolkata-style biryani.

How have your food parties evolved over time?
In the initial stages, I began by feeding three people in my small one-bedroom-hall-kitchen apartment and the number grew to 10 when I moved into a two-bedroom-hall-kitchen last year. With time, I became more open to exploring different cuisines. In my first year in Delhi, I would solely cook North-Eastern comfort food but over the years, I’ve started focusing on grazing tables — dips and bread, for instance — and food that is in tune with festivals like Chinese New Year, Eid or Diwali. For example, for Christmas, I would cook a whole roast chicken.

How do you actively create awareness about the cuisine of your hometown or regional cuisines from the North-East?
I provide my guests a way to explore different cuisines and cultures. The ingredients that we use, say, in Manipur may be the same ones used in Nagaland or Mizoram but they would be used very differently. My friends have, over time, started to understand this. It’s interesting that there are different recipes with the same ingredients.

Do any specific examples come to mind?
Tuning kok is a root that the Meitei community uses in its raw form in Manipuri cooking solely for garnishing purposes. In Nagaland, it is used as a main ingredient. The Khasis in Meghalaya call the same root jamyrdoh. Perilla seeds are widely used by the Meitei community in Manipur; we crush them and mix them with ginger to make a dip. We also make a chutney with the seeds and eat it on the side. On the other hand, a Naga or a Khasi from Meghalaya would cook a whole meat dish centred around this, with just the addition of ginger and garlic. So it’s interesting to see how this one ingredient found through the North-East is consumed in different ways.

How intentional is the curation of your guest lists? Are there certain commonalities that you take into account?
When I cook for my partner’s birthday or my friend’s farewell, then the party is limited to our circle. But it’s interesting to see how those who haven’t really tried my cooking react to the regional food. It’s good to see people responding to it in a positive manner.

In fact, at the luncheon that we had for Verve recently, my friends had brought their plus-ones — one of them lives in Dublin and the other is from Cornwall. And they responded to the cuisine so well — right from the level of spice to the kind of comfort that they got out of it. The Irish guest said that they would eat something really similar to the pork stew I made back at their home but with a different vegetable that is locally grown and not the mustard greens that I used. The guest from Cornwall is half-Khasi so he started talking about the root that I used and how it is so similar to the food that his mother loves to eat when they travel to Meghalaya. The only commonality is that they are open to trying food that is new to them.

Are these gatherings an easier way to socialise and connect with people, especially when you’re in a new city and are trying to find a support system?
The people I call for lunch or dinner are a recurring lot. They are the core group I have formed over the years but there are days when we also have plus-ones come in, be it a friend or a date that they want to introduce, and I feel like this intimate setting is so much better for getting to know new people instead of going out drinking or clubbing. I would say having these luncheons allows people to interact in a more organic manner.

Whenever I have to plan a meal, I have to explore what the city’s markets have, the pricing and so on. I figure out what’s something that I can substitute an ingredient with. I remember when I moved to Delhi initially, and I didn’t really know about the existence of the North-Eastern shops here, I would replace the umami flavour that comes from fermented fish in a lot of our cooking with Thai fish sauce because that was easily available.

Is this something you look to start in Bengaluru — again a new city for you?
I would love to but right now we are quite occupied with Nari & Kāge. I end up spending most of my days in the kitchen. I think I might start with meals centred around Nari & Kāge and the cheeses that we are so passionate about. I don’t have a friend circle in Bengaluru yet. That’s the priority for now.

Did you gravitate towards more intimate settings as you grew older or was it something you were looking to incorporate from an earlier point in your life?
It happened gradually. I have always been a homebody. I love inviting people to a space that I have created — it means so much more and you can only do that when you are in a space where you feel comfortable allowing other people into your space. I don’t think I would have been able to do that at a younger age and it only comes with starting to understand yourself better.

What makes a good host?
The priority of a host should be to make people feel at home, feel comfortable. That’s the baseline. I give a lot of importance to the food that would be consumed. I’ve seen gatherings where people just Swiggy in some food and that is not how I could ever operate. There should be an emphasis on good food and the level of effort put in. That is what makes a lunch or dinner party.

Previous: The Introduction and The Menu
Next: The Guests

Wine & Dine

Text by Ranjabati Das. All interviews by Asad Sheikh. Photography by Angus Guite.

Daksha Salam and Caroline Zeliang in Caroline’s kitchen

Excerpts from the conversations with the guests at the luncheon….

Caroline Zeliang, 31
Creative and Production Head at Urth Label, a home-grown fashion brand
Hometown: Darjeeling

What drew you to Daksha Salam’s food gatherings?
Food, as a language of love, resonates with me and I believe Daksha and I have been brought up with similar values by our mothers. Sharing our mothers’ recipes and our mutual love towards food cemented our friendship.

When you think of Daksha’s food gatherings, what do they bring to mind?
The wholesomeness with which he cooks is something that is not only seen and tasted in his food but also felt in his presence and through the tablescape that he creates with all his heart.

One of the primary ways we connect with each other is by eating together. Every gathering we have feels like home, a home that is made up of love, friendship and acceptance. The basic reassurance that there is a place for us at this table. We belong here.

Angel Georgina Konthoujam and Yeongchae Lee

Angel Georgina Konthoujam, 31
Development Practitioner
Hometown: Imphal

What drew you to Daksha’s food gatherings?
I love Meitei cuisine. I grew up in a Meitei household eating, cooking and learning how to cook Meitei dishes. Daksha’s lunches and dinners are evocative of my home for me.

Did you have any preconceived notions that changed during the course of the meal?
I am not a big vegetable eater but the bitter gourd chutney on his menu was surprisingly delectable.

How long have you known him and how did you meet?
Daksha and I are cousins. In Manipur, we express a lot of the love and care we have for each other through cooking. When I moved to Delhi two years ago, he inducted me into his “care-fold”. After every night out, he’d cook us an ethnic brunch spread which still remains one of my best memories of friendship and nourishment.

Yeongchae Lee

Ronmi Risom, 27
Lawyer
Hometown: Ukhrul

When and how did you meet Daksha?
The first time I met Daksha was in 2019 when he came over to my place for dinner with a carrot cake and daffodils. We instantly became friends and he invited me to one of his food gatherings. Over the years, we’ve shared food sent from home and eaten countless dinners together.

Yeongchae Lee and David Oh

John Shanagher, 30
Video Editor
Hometown: Athlone (Ireland)

What drew you to Daksha’s food gatherings? Did you have any preconceived notions that changed during the course of the meal?
A mutual friend invited me, but I was driven by my curiosity to explore new foods in India, especially made by those who cook out of pure love for food. I thought the food was going to be intricate, but it felt so homely and wholesome, simple and so tasty.

How long have you known him?
We met last year, through a mutual friend.

When you think of Daksha’s food gatherings, what do they bring to mind?
A connected and authentic food experience. Not just about what’s on the plate but also the feeling of the room, the table, and how each element of the space and meal combines into an experience that feels unique to Daksha.

Sawani Kumar

Sawani Kumar, 30
Design Consultant
Hometown: Kolkata

What drew you to Daksha’s food gatherings?
It’s always been how Daksha manages to give each element of each dish its due respect, no matter how “simple” it is. His cooking is so honest and there is tremendous beauty in experiencing that.

How long have you known him and how did you meet?
I met Daksha through my closest friend, Caroline [Zeliang], over a meal at her house in 2020.

When you think of Daksha’s food gatherings, what do they bring to mind?
Loved ones, comfort, nostalgia.

Left to right: Juhila Saini, Sawani Kumar and Ronmi Risom

Juhila Saini, 34
Lead Project Manager at a design agency
Hometown: Delhi

What drew you to Daksha’s food gatherings?
It was something that happened organically, with just friends coming together to have food that reminds you of home. Daksha’s food just feeds your soul — if you are having a bad day or a hangover or you just need a bit of warmth in your soul, this is where you should be.

When you think of Daksha’s food gatherings, what do they bring to mind?
We all are all very close and his food connects us together. Soul-satisfying food is rare. I am always put on the spot when people ask me what is your favourite place to eat — it’s not any restaurant, it’s Daksha’s home.

David Oh, 29
Finance Controller
Hometown: Chandigarh

What drew you to Daksha’s food gatherings?
Food has always been an important part of our friendship. Going out to eat or cooking food in Daksha’s house is par for the course for us.

How long have you known Daksha and how did you meet?
I met Daksha four years ago, when I was travelling for work in Delhi. My school friend went to college with him, and wanted us to meet while she was in town.

John Shanagher

Daniel Ross Chaplin, 30
Humanitarian Worker with the United Nations
Hometown: Cornwall, England

What drew you to Daksha’s food gatherings?
A lunch invitation from Daksha was too enticing to resist, even with a looming flight from Indira Gandhi International Airport later that day. Undoubtedly a dedicated food enthusiast, Daksha’s passion for culinary arts and hosting shines through in his food gatherings.

How long have you known him and how did you meet?
I’ve been acquainted with Daksha for several years now; our introduction was through his cousin, who happens to be my partner. We met at a restaurant — of course!

When you think of Daksha’s food gatherings, what do they bring to mind?
Daksha’s culinary events are synonymous with delectable North-East Indian cuisine, challenging perceptions of “Indian food” for both foreign nationals and, I suspect, even some Indians themselves. Beyond the exquisite dishes, the gatherings are infused with Daksha’s witty and enjoyable company, making each experience truly memorable.

Previous: The Interview with Daksha Salam
Back To The Introduction and The Menu

Spaces

Text by Shirin Mehta. Photographs by Vihan Shah.

As we head out for journeys, we tend to wish each other, “Bon voyage…travel safe!” Safe for who? For the traveller, of course. But what about the planet? Do we ensure that our sojourns keep the environment safe? Are we conscious about managing our carbon footprints as we gad about the globe? Do we make slow travel a priority and support local communities along the way? Do we even give the slightest thought to the often-negative impact on our ecosystem, while we move around endlessly for pleasure or for business?

Entrepreneur Chaitsi Ahuja, founder, chief curator and CEO of Brown Living, an online marketplace that offers a wide range of sustainable everyday-use products, has been pondering these issues and advocating a low-waste lifestyle for all. Her stated mission on Instagram is to plant 1 million trees. Think before consuming, she repeats endlessly. ‘My climate anxiety kicked in last night’, she writes in another post, adding, ‘Some days are harder than others. On such days I have to make a lot of effort to get out of bed. I also overthink. But I also try to find little things to do that make my mood better, help me ‘snap out of it’.’

Along with her earth-loving friend and brand representative, film producer Pragya Kapoor, Ahuja has made the environmental impact of products her business, in many ways. She aims to help customers ‘transition into an earth-friendly lifestyle starting from your home’. And moving beyond….

Here, Ahuja speaks to us about embarking on green journeys and perhaps even being able to make this activity beneficial for the earth – and shares some tips and tricks for trips that are safe all around….

Excerpts from the interview….

What do you bear in mind while travelling?
I love exploring destinations that align with my values. Sure, I enjoy visiting popular tourist spots, but I also make it a point to venture off the beaten path and discover hidden gems. I often go for a hike or take a stroll in a charming park. I ensure that I visit local supermarkets and farmers’ markets to get a feel for what the community is all about.

Walking is my go-to. There’s just something special about experiencing a place on foot and taking it all in. Of course, there are times when walking is not practical, so I opt for trains or buses wherever possible. Not only do they have a lower carbon footprint than flights, but you also get to meet some fascinating locals along the way. There’s something truly magical about seeing the landscapes change and feeling the train’s rhythmic movements as it chugs along. Trains bring back nostalgic childhood memories and simpler times, making them an amazing way to explore the country efficiently, affordably and sustainably.

Let’s talk about longer distances when flying becomes inevitable. When that happens, I make sure I offset my carbon emissions through local and reputable carbon offset programmes like Grow-Trees.com for instance, where you can plant trees with just a few clicks and gift them for special occasions. I like to do my part to make a positive impact.

Tell us about travel through the The Brown Lens, Brown Living’s product selection framework.
The Brown Lens is inspired by circular design and life cycle assessment principles. It’s all about focusing on five key aspects: source, method, packaging, life and beyond, and aesthetic. We use this framework at Brown Living to curate products for our conscious customers. We’re on a mission to combat greenwashing, and ensure complete transparency and traceability for our consumers.

This mindset extends beyond work for me. In my day-to-day life, I strive to embrace a sustainable lifestyle and follow a vegan diet. And I always prioritise sustainable and eco-friendly options where my travel essentials are concerned. From my clothes to my toiletries, I make sure everything is ethically sourced and produced. It’s about making conscious choices that reflect my values of sustainability and minimalism.

What advice do you have for someone who would like to travel more sustainably?
Here are a few key tricks and tips to follow if you want to incorporate green practices while travelling:

• Pack light. By reducing the weight of your luggage, you can minimise fuel consumption and carbon emissions during transportation.
• Where possible, choose countries like Bhutan and Sri Lanka which are leading the pack in prioritising the well-being of their people and the preservation of nature. Their commitment to fostering sustainable development is beyond inspiring.
• Choose eco-friendly accommodations. Look for hotels and resorts that are committed to sustainability, such as those with energy-efficient practices, waste reduction initiatives, organic food options and those that support local communities.
• Use public transportation or walk. Not only does this reduce your carbon footprint but also allows you to experience the local culture more intimately.
• Support local and sustainable businesses by opting for locally owned restaurants, shops and tour operators that prioritise sustainable practices and contribute to the local economy.
• Respect local resources: conserve water, energy and natural resources. For example, you can start by taking shorter showers.
• Remember that every little choice we make counts in preserving our precious environment. Even the tiniest changes can pave the way for a more sustainable future of travel.

What is your luggage preference?
When I’m travelling, I like to keep my suitcase and handbag minimalistic yet functional. I focus on packing versatile clothing items that can be mixed and matched, reducing the need for excess baggage.

As for brands, I prefer those that are known for their sustainable practices and ethical manufacturing. I’ve worked in the luggage industry for a large part of my corporate career and so I am obsessed with picking out the right suitcase for myself. Patagonia takes the top spot on my list for travel gear. Their commitment to responsible and ethical sourcing, along with their use of innovative materials, is truly impressive. When it comes to mainstream brands, Samsonite has some seriously durable luggage. And speaking of home-grown brands, I adore Clan Earth and Bandit which are doing some amazing work.

How can one make travel beneficial?
Travelling can bring so many benefits, not just for us but also for the local communities and the environment. As tourists, we have the power to make a positive impact by supporting local businesses and contributing to the local economy. Opting for eco-tours, staying in eco-resorts and dining at locally owned restaurants are a few ways to do that. I always make it a point to learn the language (just enough to get by) and that’s a great way to get to know the locals. I prefer Airbnbs or homestays over hotels and I have couch-surfed a lot back in my college days and I still love it. This can result in savings while you can also choose to cook your meals with local ingredients. And if you’re lucky, you get to stay with a host who can give you a deeper sense of the lifestyles, an understanding of native fruits and foods, and you get to take these back home as memories.

It’s important to be responsible tourists, who are on a mission to reduce waste and show respect for cultures and resources. We should help preserve the beauty of the places we visit.

How do you minimise plastic consumption on a journey?
Reducing our environmental impact by cutting down on plastic consumption during trips is crucial. I always bring along my trusty reusable water bottle and a handy cutlery kit (reusable spoon and fork, and metal straw) to steer clear of single-use plastics. It’s also wise to have reusable shopping bags handy for unexpected purchases. Also opting for products with minimal packaging is a way to combat plastic waste while travelling. And when I’m on a longer journey, I remember to pack a home-made meal or carry reusable Ziploc bags for locally bought snacks. And let’s not forget my quick-dry bamboo hand towel as a sustainable alternative to wasteful wet wipes (yes, they contain plastic too!). It’s all about being prepared and making conscious choices to make a positive difference.

Which sustainable brands do you wear?
I’m a huge advocate of sustainable brands when it comes to clothing. I steer clear of polyester and opt for naturally dyed fabrics. They’re much more breathable.

Some of my favourite sustainable clothing brands include Basal Studio, The Terra Tribe, Livbio, Meesa, Bombay Bloom and Kanelle. These prioritise ethical sourcing, fair trade practices and eco-friendly materials. By supporting them, we not only promote sustainable fashion but also encourage other companies to adopt more environmentally friendly practices.

How do you manage being a vegan when you are away from home?
Travelling as a vegan can be quite a challenge. But with a little planning, you can conquer any destination. Before setting off, I always make it a priority to scout out vegan-friendly restaurants and markets at my chosen destination. I never leave home without a stash of non-perishable vegan snacks like nuts and dried fruits, just in case my options are limited. And here’s a pro tip: I make sure to communicate my dietary preferences to hotel staff and tour operators ahead of time. Being proactive and resourceful go a long way in helping me maintain my vegan lifestyle and minimise my impact on animal agriculture while on the go.

Let me also tell you about this life-saving discovery I made back in 2015 when I would visit China frequently — Buddhist Chinese restaurants! Absolute game changers. And today, even in countries like France and Italy, where buttery croissants are a temptation, vegan options are becoming more readily available. Although, I must admit, in India vegan food can be a bit pricey and not as widely accessible. But there’s always hummus and pita or leafy salads for those moments.

Text by Anish Gawande. Photographs by Asad Sheikh.

Asim Waqif in his Delhi studio.

I show up at Asim Waqif’s door in Vasant Kunj in Delhi, only to be told that he’s at his “workshop” in the building opposite. Struggling to contain a chuckle — I’ve never heard of an artist’s studio being referred to as a workshop before — I walk over. I’m not the first to make this mistake this morning; Verve’s photographer Asad Sheikh had also shown up at his residence a few minutes earlier (before being promptly escorted to Waqif by his younger daughter).

As I enter the apartment — the third and smallest space he’s operated out of after the pandemic — it becomes clear why “workshop” might be a more appropriate moniker for Waqif’s studio. A wide assortment of objects are strewn across the four rooms, with works in varying degrees of completion stacked up on tables and against walls. Hundreds of tools are stuffed into drawers, lying on chairs and occupying pride of place on counter spaces. Crowbars and hammers, screwdrivers and indistinguishable pieces of flat metal all come together in a melange that offers a revealing glimpse into a trademark living, breathing style cultivated over the last two decades.

Sheets of metal strewn around in Waqif’s studio.

Perhaps it’s apt that Waqif thrives in such a setting. He studied at the School of Planning and Architecture in Delhi and then worked as an art director on film sets and as a documentary filmmaker before finally taking on the mantle as a full-time “artist”. His practice spans a range of disciplines — from art and architecture to design — and has driven conversations around what constitutes public space and how we occupy these. He’s also quite good at what he does: the reason I’m here is because Waqif is the recipient of the first Asia Arts Pathbreaker Award being presented by the Asia Society India Centre in February.

As we meander across rooms, he tells me about how his first job after college was as an apprentice at an old-school carpenter’s workshop where he was “taught how to maintain tools before being allowed to use them”. I ask him what his instrument of choice is. The reply comes in an instant: “Knives!” With a gleam in his eyes, he pulls out an impressive collection: scythes traditionally used to hack through fields or forests, curved saws to cut the rounded edges of bamboo, pruning shears with shorter blades but longer and sturdier handles. They’ve been collected from all over the world and used in all sorts of projects over the years. His favourite? A delicate, incredibly sharp Japanese knife. “That,” he assures me, “is for sushi.”

Glimpses of the artist’s collection of knives.

Waqif is best known for his work with bamboo. After his first installation baans (2005) — as part of a residency at Khoj Studios and prompted by the Delhi-based arts organisation’s director Pooja Sood — he has gone on to make Durga Pujo pandals out of intricate bamboo mesh in Kolkata and (most recently) a spectacular bamboo shelter for the Hayward Gallery terrace in London as part of the prestigious Bagri Foundation Commission. His most ambitious project, however, is a bamboo plantation in Sylhet, Bangladesh called Bamsera Bamsi. Supported by the Samdani Art Foundation, the plantation — now entering its seventh year — is a living sculpture that Waqif returns to periodically to mould and shape into newer forms, crafting bridges and structures and shapes into a grove that keeps getting denser.

Eventually, what happens to all these large-scale installations? “My installations take really long to put together — and then they are disassembled and sold to scrap or secondary markets. I like working this way, it’s better than making something that lasts forever and ever,” says Waqif.

Left to right: A metal sheet that has been reshaped via repeated knife thrusts on its surface; A prototype of an installation.

A contentious negotiation with the material he uses is at the centre of Waqif’s work. As an architect, he spent time visiting a variety of stepwells across Rajasthan — a passion that’s continued, albeit in a morphed form. With bamboo, Waqif has been at the forefront of a research project started in 2005 that looks at the “prototyping of non-chemical bamboo-seasoning techniques based on vernacular practices in the North-East of India”. Bamboo, Waqif explains, might be natural — but the toxic products used to treat it to prevent it from decaying have a significant negative impact on the environment. The ecological sensitivity intrinsic to his practice, then, demands an ethical commitment towards finding a solution.

There’s no bamboo around right now, however. “Please write about that,” Waqif mumbles, adding, only half-jokingly, that he’s “tired of being called a ‘bamboo artist’ in all the pieces written on me”. The size of the apartment, and the monumental scale of most of his works involving bamboo, mean that Waqif’s installations are all site-specific. The workshop, instead, is filled with battered sheets of galvanised steel sporting shades of azure blue.

Cyanotype photograms on galvanized steel — Waqif’s signature work with metal.

Created in collaboration with a local trunk maker in accordance with paper models fashioned by Waqif, these sheets are part of a new body of work that he’s playing around with. Once bent into shape, these sheets — resembling origami mountain folds — are then shaped using Waqif’s assortment of tools before getting coloured using a remarkable photosensitive cyanotype process in the darkroom within the workshop. The result is beautiful sculptural forms washed over with striking, almost fluorescent tints. Of course, as with everything Waqif does, the aesthetic exists primarily at the service of the political. With bamboo, Waqif turns to the politics of sustainability. With rubber waste, he’s making a statement on consumption. He remarks playfully, “People with more privilege create more trash. So, I want to see if I can put some trash back in their homes in some shape or form — that’s what I’m trying to do with the sculptures.”

Waqif is deeply troubled by consumption and reminds me that tuberculosis was once called consumption because the disease saw the body eat itself. In the modern world, this analogy runs deeper: we are consumed by what we consume. His work extensively reuses materials that would otherwise be considered worthless — Bordel Monstre, his first exhibition in Europe at the Palais de Tokyo in Paris, used bits and pieces left over from earlier exhibitions; All we leave behind are the memories, presented at the 8^th Asia Pacific Triennial of Contemporary Art in Brisbane used reclaimed timber from demolition sites across the city; and Pretty Wrecked at the Chicago Architecture Biennial used discarded rubber tubing from the Chicago Resource Center.

Left to right: Waqif with his younger daughter; A henna drawing made by his daughters and their cousins on his left hand.

The conversation now shifts to the living room of the home that we have walked over from. Schools have been shut because of the biting cold and Waqif’s younger daughter’s Zoom class has just ended. Her doting father — whose most prized artwork is a henna drawing made by her in cahoots with her older sister and cousins on his hand — has been summoned back.

Sipping on a cup of chai that’s just been offered to me, I ask whether Waqif has read the book I sent over when we first spoke a few weeks ago. He hasn’t. The book in question is E. M. Cioran’s remarkable A Short History of Decay, written after World War II, and I’m curious to delve deeper into Waqif’s aesthetic and theoretical engagements with the tortuous, complex ways in which materials come apart at their seams.

“Decay and destruction usually have a negative connotation in people’s minds. But if you want to build something, you have to break something. Breaking and demolishing can actually be constructive processes,” Waqif muses. “To me, decay is a form of preservation — like fermentation. You can save things by rotting them.” This fascination with rot informs Waqif’s work in Delhi, which — with its constantly shifting demographics and structural transformations — offers an ideal canvas for both observation and creation. As one part of the city falls into disuse, another takes on a new life of its own, igniting the artist’s interest in abandoned spaces. We share our experiences as two migrants to the city — him, an older one from Hyderabad, and me, the newer entrant from Mumbai.

Clockwise from top left: A framed collection of insects. An animal bone collected during Waqif’s treks. Honeybee hives from Waqif’s apartment complex; the oil painting (below) is by Meenal Singh, Waqif’s classmate from the School of Planning and Architecture in Delhi. A bamboo rhizome, along with rocks from rivers, are placed on an old Enbee speaker refurbished by Waqif.

Animatedly, Waqif points to how zoning regulations in Delhi (introduced in 1961) prohibiting mixed land use had transformed the character of historic markets. While previously shopkeepers used to live above their stores, a ban on commercial establishments operating in areas marked for residential use reconfigured living and working patterns in the city. These regulations were overturned in 2006, resulting in yet another churn — the latest amongst a long litany constantly reshaping the city over centuries, each obscuring but not entirely erasing the one that came before.

As we wrap up our interview, I pause to ask how his belief in regeneration and reuse seeps from the artistic and theoretical into the personal. Waqif admits that he’s a hoarder, but insists that he has no sentimental attachments to the things he hoards. In fact, he tells me that over the course of moving to the smaller workshop after the pandemic, he gave away dozens of kilos of bits and bobs to the kabadiwala. At this point, I sense that parental responsibilities are tugging Waqif away from our conversation. I ask my final question: what’s the one thing he’s given away that he still misses?

“Once, I exchanged a pair of shoes for a sheepskin, on a trek. I then used that sheepskin to make a sculpture — and sold it. I miss that sheepskin.”

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Anish Gawande is a writer and curator. He is also the founder of the Dara Shikoh Fellowship, an interdisciplinary arts residency, and Pink List India, the country’s first archive of politicians supporting LGBTQIA+ rights.

Screen + Sound + Stage

Text by Ranjabati Das. Photography by Ali Monis Naqvi. Art Direction and Styling by Akanksha Pandey. Hair and Make-Up by Seerath Sheikh Kabir; assisted by Dixita Dhargalkar.

1. On Vibhav Sawant (Oberon): net dress and ball, from Savio Jon.
2. On Shreya Mukund Prabhu (Hermia): dome body dress, from Quod; bandhni scarf, from Savio Jon.
3. On Prajakta Kavlekar (Titania): top with box pleats, from Fool Dost; front-zipped black skirt, from Margn; red handloom scarf (tucked into the skirt), from Sirohi; green yoga gear (used as sash), stylist’s own.
4. On Keatan Jadhav (Demitrius): front knot shirt, from WIP Clothing; carved wooden face, from Savio Jon.
5. Mandar Jog (Puck)
6. On Pranav Tengse (Nick Bottom): jacket made out of recycled textile, from Dyelog; striped deconstructed pants with belt, from Savio Jon.

When Keatan Jadhav co-founded Theatre Flamingo (TF) in 2017 — not long after he completed his master’s in theatre from the Centre for Performing Arts at Savitribai Phule Pune University (popularly known as Lalit Kala Kendra) — it was with the express motive of expanding the space for theatre in Goa and cultivating it from the ground up. The troupe took flight with 10 graduates of the institution banding together, to create an intimate theatre experience that, for the most part, remains directed at those who are located outside urban narratives. A sense of purpose powers their passion for theatre, both verbal and non-verbal, and at its heart lies the motivation to educate and strengthen local communities, particularly younger members. “Grassroots theatre is difficult as the financial returns are uncertain. We need to work out the finances as the idea of theatre for people is important in today’s times,” notes actor Mandar Jog.

Like the large pink migratory bird it is named after, Theatre Flamingo has a penchant for travel, seeing that it opened its act as an itinerant theatre group. The very first initiative entailed performing for remote communities in the interiors of Maharashtra on a pay-as-you-like basis, where their main objective was to effect change and create social impact. After covering 4,700 kilometres in 17 days, they chose to move base to Canacona, instead of more lucrative cities like Mumbai and Delhi, where theatre has a ready audience. In Goa, where most hail from, they strive to empower marginalised groups situated across the state. Intermittently, they also cross over to cities like Mumbai, Pune and Bengaluru in neighbouring states with their art.

Their Konkani- and Marathi-language play Hattamalachya Palyad, adapted from playwright, director and actor Badal Sircar’s Hattamalar Oparey (Beyond The Land Of Hattamala), reflects this anti-capitalist belief system. Rooted in his Marxist ideologies, Sircar sought to bring the audience face to face with an egalitarian utopia of a world where money has no currency. This fictitious land lies in contrast to the capitalistic land of Hattamala where, much like the world we inhabit, the inclination towards consumerism is all-consuming.

Between rehearsals for Mukbhat, their adaptation of Shakespeare’s Macbeth, Verve talks to three members about their brand of experimental theatre, their commitment to their chosen medium of expression and how they navigate caste, religion and cultural norms when adapting plays to local contexts.

Excerpts from the conversations…

Handloom cotton pants, from Wunderhaus.

Keatan Jadhav, 30
Hometown: Canacona
Co-founder, Artistic Director and Actor

What does your role at Theatre Flamingo encompass?
I act, write, direct and work as administration head. I also act as a parent for the team members from time to time.

Where do you get your funding from?
We organise the annual Canacona Theatre Festival, which promotes regional and contemporary theatre and happens every May in Poinguinim village in commemoration of Badal Sircar’s death anniversary. For this, we have secured funding from people around the village in Canacona taluka. They help us not only monetarily but also by donating rice, oil, coconut, etc. It is open to all and this year, it showcased a diverse range of storytelling styles, ranging from Marathi dastangoi and musical satires to the Rajasthani kavad art.

1. Left to right — On Mandar Jog: cube rubber jacket, from Bloni; peplum skirt, from Rajesh Pratap Singh, blue stockings, stylist’s own. On Keatan Jadhav: crochet kimono jacket, from Bloni; panelled trousers, from Margn.

How did you capture the essence of Demetrius for the shoot?
Demetrius exhibits a fickle nature. His annoyance with Helena illustrates his unique characteristics; before being charmed in Act II, he even threatens her with bodily harm. And in the beginning of the play, his attention moves from Helena to Hermia quite swiftly. Demetrius represents the delicate balance between love and hate. I wanted to emphasise the contrast between these emotions to highlight his unpredictable nature.

Portraying his behavioural patterns through poses was new for me. I focused on physicality and body language. I made use of the latter to reflect the changing emotions and attitudes of Demetrius. I show that he is in love by using an open and inviting posture, and with gestures that convey warmth and affection. I adopt closed-off body language, such as crossed arms and defensive postures, to convey that he has fallen out of love.

Clockwise from left — On Prajakta Kavlekar: handmade organza flower and corded dress, from Vaishali S. On Keatan Jadhav: hand-painted shirt and pants in natural tones, both from Asaii. On Shreya Mukund Prabhu: silk top, from Rajesh Pratap Singh; organza skirt, from Vaishali S. On Vibhav Sawant: jumpsuit, from Rajesh Pratap Singh; headgear, from Valliyan. On Shiv Pranav Damodar Alavani: silver brocade jacket, from Rajesh Pratap Singh; handwoven tussar boxer shorts, from Fool Dost.

Why did Flamingo opt to stage A Midsummer Night’s Dream? The cast members are in character for the shoot...
A Midsummer Night’s Dream is a comedy that explores thwarted love, love that is abandoned, love that is redeemed, and more. We are currently prepping for it and it will be staged in 2024-’25. I can relate to it because of its universality. The play delves into the complexities of relationships and demonstrates the transformative power of love, which can be a source of joy and fulfilment.

However, it can also bring confusion, heartbreak and unexpected twists. A Midsummer Night’s Dream captures these aspects of love through its comedic lens, providing a relatable portrayal of the ups and downs in romantic relationships. The themes of forgiveness and personal growth can offer hope and inspiration. One can find solace in the fact that the complexities of love are a shared human experience.

How does Goa play into the kind of work that Flamingo does?
Unlike other cities like Mumbai and Pune, the residents of Goa do not have the tendency to pay for theatre other than perhaps Panjim or Margao. Tiatr — a form of musical theatre that is popular in the state and practised by the Catholic community — has its own audience.

But if you have to develop your forest land into cultivation fields for future generations, you have to start from scratch. Similarly, Theatre Flamingo looks to cultivate a space for theatre in Goa from the ground up.

Also, tell us about taking the more unconventional route of doing theatre in villages instead of moving to bigger cities that may offer better prospects.
“How can theatre feed you?” “How will you depend on it as a livelihood for a lifetime?” “Don’t gamble your life away doing theatre.” The taunts coming from my own family made me think, “Why am I studying theatre? What does it mean to us…our lives?” When I faced this question upfront, I thought I could find answers by building Theatre Flamingo…. It came from within. I thought, “Let’s go for it!”

Opportunities were sparse. But being a theatre artiste, I did not want to leave my medium and this was the trigger for launching our start-up.

From an early age, I was very motivated to spread the art of theatre in every nook and corner of the villages in Goa and I have been highly inspired by my guru, theatre artiste Vijaykumar Naik, who founded the Goa-based Hauns Sangeet Natya Mandal that’s been producing experimental theatre since 1950.

Is adapting a play to bring in the local context a tricky job — in cases where the play is from a different part of the country or the world? Can you tell us about some of the plays that have been adapted by your team?
I have adapted Shakespeare’s Macbeth in Konkani. Also, Molière’s Tartuffe in Hindi. Very often, the play has its own cultural references and when I work as a director on the scripts, I try to conceive and see the script through my own cultural lens. I feel theatre happens when there is a question and a character’s role on stage is to find the answers, whether it is a tragedy or comedy or any genre. Working on a play is also about performative research on the issues.

Practising theatre is about paying attention to other people. And this is the basis of the ethics here. Theatre is built on observing the actions of other human beings. This means putting yourself in others’ shoes. Exercising the ability to understand what it means to be someone else. And the more you exercise empathy, the less you can hurt others or disagree with someone’s opinion. Also, plays often reflect society. So, obstacles faced by the characters in any play have the power to appeal to the audience, irrespective of where and when that play has been written.

We have read that you’re on a quest to develop an acting approach using body, emotions and voice in your TF Actors Lab. And in this, you have incorporated the Butoh technique. Can you tell us more? What is the lab all about?
I employ theatre research and the intricacies of the craft of acting to offer practical advice to professional and aspiring actors alike. In my acting career, I am driven by a firm belief in rigorous training. You see engineers, doctors and scientists go through this kind of training usually — and, as a result, they also get the space and opportunity to perfect their techniques after their college education. In this acting approach, which I call the Scaffolding Method, the goal is to perfect one’s body to such a degree that it becomes capable of all requirements for the stage. So begins the journey to become an athlete of emotions that enables one to pursue any artistic tasks. We provide the overall training to our bodies, voices and imagination, through deep experimentation with oneself.

You developed the Ghumchye Kattar Theatre project in 2018, to encourage children to read. It is said to have reached 13,000 children. What drew you towards this endeavour?
My school did not have a library and so I did not get much access to books. But my teachers would scold me for not reading books. This shouldn’t be the way to handle the situation. So I designed a project called Ghumchye Kattar Theatre where, through theatre, we encourage children to develop an affinity towards reading books.

Stories, storytelling, enacting…they have the power to reach within us, command emotions, compel involvement. Stories provide us with practical insight into approaches we can take when it comes to our most persistent environmental difficulties. We planned activities around this idea; hence, this folk-based theatrical venture is called Ghumchye Kattar Theatre or “the storytelling journey”.

Ghumchye Kattar Theatre is a nine-month-long theatre programme directed at tribal areas. The theatre-based interactive stories encourage one to build listening skills and pushes ones towards teamwork and creative writing. Its objective is to help build confidence, raise self-esteem and develop imagination.

The choice of stories is driven by their ability to develop emotional literacy and increase children’s capacity for empathy. Using live and interactive theatre, we invite and inspire young people to think about their choices and the consequences of their actions on the environment in a humorous and engaging way.

You acted in the short film, A Cold Summer Night, which was officially selected for Locarno Film Festival, Busan International Film Festival, and a whopping 33 other national and international film festivals. It deals with the migrant issue in Goa. What are your thoughts on the surge of people moving to Goa in recent years?
Migration is a lifestyle and a major behaviour of our society or any society in the world. Most still can’t find a satisfactory space to live a sustainable life easily. But in this scenario, if you become an outsider or society makes you an outcast, it’s a problem and it’s painful. I have gone through this, as my father is a Maharashtrian. So I have felt judged and the energy I have felt at times is very unnatural.

1. Foreground — On Vibhav Sawant: rubber sculpted dress, from Bloni. Background — On Prajakta Kavlekar: black gown with elongated pink sleeve details, from Rajesh Pratap Singh; green shibori top (used as scarf), from Studio Medium.
2. On Mandar Jog: blue stockings, stylist’s own.

How has the audience changed in Goa over the years? How does the location impact you as an artiste?
Earlier, I wanted to showcase my work in Pune, Mumbai, etc. where I can get a theatre-going audience. But nowadays I want to do theatre in my hometown of Canacona and I gradually want to build my own audience. Sometimes, I feel apprehensive of the experimental theatre I practise at TF Actors Lab in Goa because we do not have an audience. But the scenario has been changing slowly. The audience has been welcoming of the new vocabulary of performance that they have witnessed of late.

Mukbhat is the latest Shakespearean play adapted by Theatre Flamingo….
We opened our adaptation of Shakespeare’s Macbeth in Ponda earlier this year. We have been working on Mukbhat since last year. It is an experimental play that uses modern theatrical tools and blends them with traditional practices to create a contemporary narrative that raises questions on gender politics, temple politics and caste hierarchies in Goan villages. The play shows how each character here is entrenched in caste, religion and cultural norms.

The play centres around Mukhel-Bhat and his wife Annapurna’s dehumanising behaviour towards their adopted son Mukbhat. Ultimately, it makes him kill his parents. Mukbhat invites the audience to experience the roots of stifled ambition, unfulfilled desire and ultimate loss. Now, we are looking for theatre festivals in and outside India.

Do you prefer verbal or non-verbal plays — since you have worked with both?
Initially, when I started out, I was motivated by scripts, but after a point, I started getting into non-verbal physical theatre, because language can’t say as much as our emotions and actions can.

Tell us about a favourite non-verbal Theatre Flamingo performance….
Moments In Movements is a performance by a bare body smeared with colours. The body presses, drags and lays the colours across canvases to create bodily impressions. This piece was performed in the pinewood jungle of Galgibaga, South Goa, in January 2022. The piece refers to the painting practices of Jackson Pollock, who would pour and drip paint onto his canvases. This performance takes spectators of the physical element of painting even further by adding an audience member and using the human body to spread the paint. In utilising the body as a breathing paintbrush, performer Amodi Sanap challenges viewers’ expectations about the cultural process of creating art. By incorporating the human body into the act of creating art, the performer will give the performativity of the body an unprecedented privilege within its discourse. This performance makes an association between nature, human skin, colour, canvas and literature. The performer uses the process of improvisation through which she focuses more on spontaneity, impulses and the feeling of the colours’ texture on the skin.

What’s next for Theatre Flamingo?
We aspire to have our own drama school and a repertoire company in Goa through which we can stage experimental plays, children’s theatre, toddler theatre, applied theatre, etc. We will continue our children’s theatre project from June to March. We will focus on travelling with our theatre group from March to May. And the Canacona Theatre Festival will take precedence in May.

Mandar Jog, 37
Hometown: Ponda
Actor

What stood out for you with regards to Puck, the character you will play on stage for Theatre Flamingo’s production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream?
Until this point, I had never tried my hands at comedy. Exploring a new character and, particularly, the mischievous nature of the character by correlating it to real-life examples was an interesting experience for me.

The pros and cons of being part of a travelling theatre group?
The pros would include the opportunity to travel and explore new places and spaces that enhance my experience as an actor as well as a human. Also, it helps me to understand and get in tune with my fellow team members which, in turn, affects us immensely on stage.

There aren’t any cons as such as of now for me. But, at times, the travel takes a toll on your body. And there are days that make you look away from the task at hand merely because of the uncertainty in our field, say, in terms of the audience turnout or the reception.

What are some of the strategies that the team has innovated together? What worked and what didn’t work over time?
We are constantly in the process of finding new strategies to reach our audience and build a consistent turnout for our performances, and it’s always a roller-coaster ride. Our latest practice of performing in cafes in Goa is picking up slowly. This interview is a result of one such performance — Jamun Ka Ped, The Jamun Tree at Saraya Cafe in Sangolda in North Goa — so I would say this strategy is helping us grow.

Do you think that A Midsummer Night’s Dream resonates with the younger generations?
The play has everything in it. It has themes of love and relationships, identity and gender, fantasy and escapism, youth and rebellion, humour and entertainment, and also theatricality and performance. And all these topics are evergreen topics. So for me, this play is an evergreen play that would work in all ages and contexts. It resonates with younger generations and will do the same with future generations as well.

Would you agree that while mainstream Indian films are looking at creating “pan-Indian” blockbusters in order to get a bigger piece of the pie, you are at the opposite end of the spectrum: taking and even introducing theatre to people in the remotest of villages?
While mainstream Indian films focus on reaching a wide audience to achieve commercial success, theatre groups like ours are trying to prioritise cultural outreach, social impact and community engagement. We aim to bring the transformative power of theatre to people in remote and often marginalised communities. Both approaches play significant roles in enriching cultural experiences and expressions in India.

Local contexts are often incorporated into the plays. Can you share an example of the same along with the core intent?
We reimagined A Midsummer Night’s Dream in a Goan context. I feel the incorporation of local culture in the play makes the content more relatable and entertaining.

What languages are your plays in?
In our plays, we speak in Marathi and Konkani, both of which are equally prevalent in Goa. The flavour of the language changes from Pernem to Canacona, thereby giving it a more intricate colour of the vicinity. We have also used Hindi and English. We, as actors, are never bound by language; if there is a need to incorporate a dialect of a specific locale we do make sure that we work on it.

Your take on grassroots theatre, theatre for the people?
It is difficult as the financial returns in the process are uncertain. We need to work out the finances as the idea of theatre for people is important in today’s times.

Prajakta Kavlekar, 28
Hometown: Ponda
Actor

What does your role at Theatre Flamingo encompass?
I am an actor and I have been one of the core members of the group since it was founded in 2017. I have designed costumes for all the plays except for the latest one, Mukbhat. I also help Keatan [Jadhav] with the management and marketing decisions.

According to you, why do Shakespearean plays work in the current times?
These are classic plays, and we still find them to be extremely relevant. The resemblances to real life are striking.

Tell us about how productions take shape at Theatre Flamingo?
Whoever wants to direct a play talks to everyone in the team about it. We have a discussion around why they want to do that particular play and how they are planning to execute the whole process, and then, according to everyone’s schedule, we start the process. It is not any one individual’s call — it is a very collaborative process.

Kala cotton patchwork jacket, from WIP Clothing.

What is your favourite Flamingo performance and why?
I have two! One is Dumb Indignation, a non-verbal solo performance directed by Keatan Jadhav and performed by Amodi Sanap. I’ve been part of this production since day one and every time I see this performance — it has been staged 47 times till now — I find the director and actor adding something new to the show. The second one is Hattamalachya Palyad, where I play 12 characters. Even after 40 shows, we still come up with new ideas during rehearsals.

You played a toddler, an old woman and sundry others in Hattamalachya Palyad, Theatre Flamingo’s adaptation of Badal Sircar’s anti-establishment play Hattamalar Opare (Beyond the Land of Hattamala)….
I like experimenting with characters and this is why I took on Hattamalachya as a challenge. I feel I am very good at portraying realistic characters. However, the characters in Hattamalachya are a bit of a caricature. It was also difficult for me as I had to play 12 characters. There was no make-up and not much difference in costume — say, just a sash or a single element that changed with the characters. I had to find 12 different walks and voices — ranging from a young boy to a 60-year-old grandmother. There were a lot of factors that I had to keep in mind. For example, this play is happening in a land where there is no concept of money — how will people decide what is happiness and what is work, and what do they expect in return if there is no money.

I wasn’t sure how it would turn out until the first show. I can’t take all the credit for developing these different characters — my co-actors are equally deserving of praise for building some of these. For this one, we also collaborated with 25-year-old Marathi writer-translator-actor, Aniruddha Deodhar, one of our juniors at Lalit Kala Kendra in Pune. He translated the Bengali play into Marathi for us.

You work in serials as well as experimental theatre — the two seem poles apart.
They serve different purposes for me. One is just a source of income while the other reflects my deep love and passion towards art and creativity. I was part of the performing arts faculty in a college at Ponda but have recently shifted to Mumbai to work as a costume designer and casting director. I did a few serials last year while I was doing Hattamalachya — like the Marathi Raja Rani Chi Ga Jodi and Sukh Mhanje Nakki Kay Asta. The plan is to get cast in a film or a web series in order to earn some money before I go back to my state and troupe.

Spaces

Text by Mallika Chandra. Photographs courtesy Sean Davidson | Yabu Pushelberg

Left to Right: Dome rug; Glenn Pushelberg and George Yabu

Inspired by the idea of “impossible structures” that were exclusively created for Montreal’s Expo 67, Yabu Pushelberg — the multidisciplinary practice founded by George Yabu and Glenn Pushelberg — developed the forms for Memento. In this limited series of art pieces that was unveiled recently, the international design studio, that has offices in New York and Toronto, referenced the experimental output of the decades-old expo. The designers then selected memories and experiences that continuously inform their studio practice — from ’20s expressionist films to a meal made and shared with loved ones — and fused them with the initial reference to create contemporary pieces.

Through their two-year-long collaboration with Yabu Pushelberg for this collection, cc-tapis — founded by Nelcya Chamszadeh and Fabrizio Cantoni, and led by Daniele Lora, art director and partner — explored several different techniques and materials in their atelier in Nepal. The Milan-based rug-maker prides itself in bringing a contemporary approach to traditional methods and the rugs that emerged from this process are a testament to the ancient craft of the Tibetan artisans who cc-tapis works with. For Memento — they have combined both dyed and undyed materials, and produced some of the softest finishes. George Yabu, in fact, has particularly professed his love for the four undyed pieces from Memento — Axo, Iso, Ortho and Drift — because the subtly varying tones achieved were created not only during the handmade processes but were also influenced by the completely natural environment of valleys and mountains inhabited by the specific herd of sheep whose wool was used.

Iso rug

Edited excerpts from an interaction with the collaborators:

As evident in the title Memento, the collection is deeply inspired by memory. To what extent do your personal narratives find a place in your creative process and the final outcome?  

Glenn Pushelberg (GP): Everything we touch or do begins with a dance of ideas that orchestrates a vision. We always like to start with a story — and that enables us to produce a clear purpose and emotion. Personal narratives are interwoven into everything we do; they comprise the essence of the studio and take us forward. In that way, everything we design is both simultaneously informed by memories and narratives and the future, thus creating an ecosystem of thinking and communicating.

These stories can be distilled from the smallest of things — from the wind stroking a curtain in a restaurant in Bangkok, to a tile we come across on a street, or a meal made with loved ones. What really inspires us is listening to the earth and connecting with people so that we can build worlds that make sense and are attuned to their needs and their futures.

Left to Right: Echo rug; Laneway rug

Can you tell us about some of the memories that came up during the design process? Which were the moments or spaces that you revisited?

George Yabu (GY): The 1920’s expressionist film The Cabinet of Dr Caligari influenced both me and Glenn. I remember being mesmerised by it in my university film critique class and watching it again on my own. I was initially drawn to its fragmented, geometric angles and perspectives. And to this day it has remained in our minds and we often go back to it and reference it.

The idea behind Memento originated from the idea of “impossible architecture” and the fantastical structures that were created for Montreal’s Expo 67. The event  remains significant to me in many ways. This world fair was 1000 per cent rooted in the experimental and it remained pure because it was a pop-up that was not intended to last forever. This happened before “pop-up” became a term. Its notions spiralled into the 3D forms that became the visual signifiers of the ‘Memento’ collection.

What are some of the key innovations — big or small — in this collection? How have Yabu Pushelberg married their sensibilities with the materiality that cc-tapis has come to be known for?

Daniele Lora: The main challenge in the development of the collection was the recreation of the delicate gradients imagined and designed by the North American design studio. We developed and produced several prototypes experimenting with different techniques and materials to translate the extremely delicate gradients into new aesthetics. Guided by a contemporary approach to traditional methods, our artisans combined both dyed and undyed materials to create seven unique hand-made pieces which evoke Yabu Pushelberg’s soft and undefined nostalgic moments that find an expression in the collection.

Drift rug

How has colour, or the lack of it — as in the undyed pieces — played a role in creating this collection?

GY: Undyed pieces are a fun surprise because they’re based on the breed of sheep that happened to walk by and needed their wool to be shaved at the time. What did the sheep eat? Were they from the valley or from the mountains? All these components impact the look of the undyed wool, which is what we love about it.

Today, the world is bathed in saturated Technicolor. We live in an HD (high-definition) world which is vivid and hyperreal, where technology allows the expression of spaces, of forms and colours in a more immediate way. But when you think of images of memories from the past, they were not as kinetic. So, colours stand out less to me personally when I go back into my memories and we wanted to bring that into the collection.

Text by Avani Thakkar, with inputs from Asad Sheikh. Photography by Raajadharshini.

The artist, Nirbhai “Nep” Singh Sidhu, in front of a textile installation from Unstruck Melody.

On an overcast morning so typical of London, I find myself at the Victoria & Albert Museum (V&A) to explore Unstruck Melody, Canadian artist Nirbhai “Nep” Singh Sidhu’s latest exhibition curated in collaboration with the UK-based arts organisation Without Shape Without Form (WSWF). As soon as I step into the museum, my weather woes are replaced by a sense of serenity — for the interiors of the space where the exhibition is on show are awash with gentle blue lighting, and tranquil acoustic instrumental music plays in the background.

In Unstruck Melody — on show till October 15, 2023 — created for this year’s edition of the London Design Festival, the artist, along with curator Deep K. Kailey (artistic director of WSWF), explores the essentials of Sikh practices in an experiential setting that combines paintings, embroidered tapestries, sculpture and film. Since this is the focus of the collaboration, you might think that you need a certain depth of knowledge or interest in the subject to identify with and fully appreciate Unstruck Melody.  But after spending the day conversing with the British-born Sidhu at V&A, it soon becomes apparent that the core of his work revolves around something far more universal.

Dressed in a bright yellow sweatshirt imprinted with “Sound of the Universe”, and shorts that seem to be as colourful as his art, Sidhu says, “Unstruck Melody is centred around the resilience of memory recall, the potentials of sound and the active participation of listening. What’s wonderful is that these are tools we all have, regardless of where we find ourselves and what practices we come from. These are tools we can employ to heal and regenerate our approach to life. They help not only us but also those around us — our family and our community as well. So, this exhibition is really about the sharing, expression and distribution of knowledge with these tools.”

The title of this exhibit is a direct translation of shabad guru — Sikhs believe that it is an internal sound that each one of us is capable of hearing within us through the ritual of active listening. Here, Sidhu and Kailey visually depict the process of accessing this internal “unstruck melody” through the practice of simran (the Sikh meditative practice) which refocuses the mind by eliminating mental chatter. Although the final formal showcase of this idea was only manifested here at the V&A recently, Sidhu and Kailey have been deeply engrossed in discussions about Sikh spirituality ever since they were first introduced by a mutual friend about eight years ago.

About his creative collaboration with Kailey, the Toronto-based artist says, “When you are engaged in an ongoing conversation, at one point it may become urgent and then you are actively required to do something. And that is when you try to execute it because it feels like it’s hyperpresent in the now.”

Sidhu with Deep K. Kailey, the artistic director of Without Shape Without Form.

The interdisciplinary artist is a familiar figure on the cultural scene and has, for a long time, centred his work around the broader aspects of community and mindfulness, as well as more specific exchanges with subjects as diverse as Buddhism, black liberation struggles and the Japanese economic miracle.

While talking to Sidhu, I become cognisant of the contagious calm as well as the unbridled energy that he paradoxically simultaneously radiates when speaking about the references and genesis of his artworks, whose creation he labels as a natural occurrence more than an aha moment. He points out, “It’s not so much a sudden act where there is a set intention of ‘Hey I’m thinking this, you’re thinking this — let’s combine it and make something’. Oftentimes, it materialises without a set intention of sitting down and doing something. It’s more the result of a set of conversations or time spent together finding the wit in things. That’s where the narrative really lies, and sometimes when you share these kinds of commonalities, that in itself can be enough to inspire a collaboration.”

What informs Sidhu’s creative process are a number of mediums and materials. On a routine day, you can find him in his studio making collages, sketching images and photocopying them or faxing them to himself, drawing over them and creating a collage again. “I find that a painting erupts out of deconstruction,” he says. In Unstruck Melody the same school of thought is woven through the large-scale tapestries which contain a myriad of scenery, symbols and signs — many of which are inherently Sikh. I particularly like the largest tapestry that seems to sprawl vertically — it encompasses an explosion of details that would need more than one sitting to soak in. I spot familiar elements: a gurdwara, swords, turbaned men, and locks of hair. About these locks of hair, he elucidates, “The hair is touching the ground – this symbolises the bodily sacrifices of Sikhs. If this exhibition is asking us to recall sounds and remember the way in which we listen, then we should also honour our blood memories. Shahidi refers to our brothers and sisters who have sacrificed their lives. Without that we wouldn’t be here, I wouldn’t be having this conversation with you right now. Our blood memory is a living idea. Our ancestors live through us. So, when we look at materiality, we have all these potentials in the way that we can remember our ancestors. And in this case, hair is such a visceral agent of recall.”

Left to Right: A publication, featuring stylised Gurmukhi script, is available for visitors to take away as mementoes; multimedia artwork from Unstruck Melody.

A publication is available for visitors to take away as a memento of what they’ve just witnessed. It is inscribed with poems, visuals and free-flowing thoughts on simran, sangat (community) and seva (selfless service) and for this, Sidhu has used a stylised version of the Gurmukhi script, the writing system predominantly used in Punjab. “We believe that our knowledge is only accessed through our actions and if we simply refer to it, it is not enough. That is why, sometimes, academia has its limits for us. In the case of the term ‘shabad’ (various compositions by Sikh gurus in Guru Granth Sahib), we are combining the word and the sound. The word is the spoken knowledge; without the sound, there is no experience attached to the knowledge. The opportunity for harmonic convergence is present in abundance everywhere, even in the sharing and application of knowledge by Sikhs. This idea of sound reminds us to experience life, to sing, to smell and to express. We have to merge the experience with the sound. That’s why we say, ‘When the singing stops, knowledge stops’,” says Sidhu.

As our exchange draws to a close, I ask Sidhu to describe Unstruck Melody to someone who may find the practices of simran unfamiliar. Why should they visit? What’s in it for them beyond pretty paintings that might find a fleeting presence on their Instagram Story? He answers after a moment of quiet contemplation: “Unstruck Melody presents the heightening of instincts as a tool for all — that’s what makes it ‘pluriversal’. And the teachings are freely imbibed from the ground up; they do not follow the top-down approach where they are projected onto everyone. In this case, there is no possession of a feeling, practice nor reference to any religion. I believe these [the thoughts and teachings that are expressed through Unstruck Melody] are tools for humanity.”