Abbas Khan stands tall. His turban and achkan are sequin-studded and glisten in the light. The cuffs of his kurta are also richly embellished. But for the tray in his hand and his bare feet, he could pass off as someone of royal lineage.
This is precisely the point Devangana Kumar is making through her work — richly-coloured and textured tapestries depicting the nameless and stereotyped workforce from the days of Raj. The 31-year-old daughter of Lok Sabha speaker Meira Kumar had been collecting postcards and photographs from the British era dating back to 1901 for 10 years. Most of these images, she found, highlighted the British shaan-e-shaukat (pomp and glory) in India. Adding to their exalted status were pictures of nameless Indian men and women whose identity was defined only by the job they did and the symbols they carried — the broom, tray, pitcher, or the colour of their turban.
Like Abbas Khan was nothing more than a khidmatgar, a servant whose duty it was to serve meals and wait at the table. He had no name. Kumar gave him one. He was denied all riches. Kumar embellished his outfit with beads. Similarly, there’s ‘Wazir Ali’, the chowkidar (watchman) and many others like him.
What Kumar has done is taken these images, some of them originally as small as 3.5 inches by 5.5 inches, scanned and enlarged them bit by bit to their maximum limit. This done, she printed them on luxurious silk velvet fabrics, often in deep, rich colours. Some were then embroidered and embellished with beads, brass and sequins. The result is a series of large tapestries which give an identity to this nameless workforce. A few of the works now adorn the walls of the Speaker’s house in Lutyen’s Delhi. But from November 1 to 15, 30 of the works from her series “Pageants of the Raj: The Workforce” will be on display at Mumbai’s Tao Art Gallery.
This isn’t just a scan and print job. Through the images, Kumar raises some significant questions about “the control and manipulation exercised by the colonists over their subjects”. The image of water maid ‘Jamuna Devi’ is a case in point. Her clothes have been arranged to show maximum skin and highlight her sensuality. “At times the subject was a reluctant participant,” says Kumar.
It’s painstaking work. The fabric being such, the printing machine has to spray the colour on it from a distance. “Six out of 10 pieces get damaged at printing stage alone,” says Kumar pointing to the image of ‘Office Peon.’ It has two navy blue ink stains on the left hand side. The colour was meant for the subject’s jacket but it squirted and stained the background.
Kumar has never studied art or history. But an old painting — oil on board — in the living room indicates where this streak might have come from. The painting of a woman in white standing by a door is signed ‘Meira’ in Hindi. “My mother used to paint,” says Kumar. “Now she hardly gets the time.”
