I have never understood why tourism in Santiniketan has not gone beyond hotels/lodges and a few basic food places. I thought that with the Tagore museum and the university, the brand recall that Rabindranath Tagore and Santiniketan still have globally, the place would be crawling with guides who would take tourists around and share Santiniketan's short but chequered history with them. Also, with increasing interest in indigenous craft, Santiniketan has much to flaunt. With weaving, batik, leather craft, embroidery thriving in and around the area, tourists could have much to savour.But sadly, the university is now thinking of only upgrading the skills of some tout-like guides who hang around the museum and introducing an electric cart to take the elderly around the campus.So recently, when a Thai ex-student of the arts department at the Visva Bharati University said she was bringing a group of Thai tourists to Santiniketan and asked whether I could arrange a kantha embroidery workshop f

Keya Sarkar: Trading stitches

Business Standard

It was a couple of weeks ago that the embroidery specialists in my workshop asked for two days leave because they wished to go to Digha, the seaside resort in south Bengal. I granted them leave but was rather surprised at the request - for it was the first of its kind.For the six to seven years that these girls have been working with me, I have never seen them go anywhere except to visit ailing or dying relatives. Going out of district and that too for pleasure was certainly a first for these young Muslim girls. The recent rout notwithstanding, the Congress government's many schemes for the poor and their increasing salaries over the years had obviously given them the confidence to indulge in hitherto unknown luxuries.I was made to listen to all their plans - about the bus being hired, the hotel being booked, and the food that was to be carried. In the middle of all the discussions, I asked whether this would indeed be their first trip out of Birbhum district and whether this would be

Keya Sarkar: A first view of the sea

Recently, while Googling for places to get away in summer, I chanced upon the Lonely Planet page on Santiniketan. Of the five must dos in Santiniketan, "Alcha", our craft shop and cafe, topped the list. I thought the listing was alphabetical but it wasn't, because second in the list was "Paus mela", a fair that is held every winter since the time of Rabindranath Tagore, and then came the Tagore museum.My initial reaction was to write to Lonely Planet to change the rankings. The "Paus mela" - from a three-day celebration of Bengal folk culture and craft - had become a humongous commercial event with folk culture and craft on the fringes. A million people descend on Santiniketan for the mela and authorities are hard put to clean up the mess later on. But the museum? It seemed ridiculous for Alcha to get a billing higher than the Tagore museum. I do not know whether it is the ministry of culture or tourism, state or Centre, or the Visva Bharati University that is responsible for the museu

Keya Sarkar: One last snack at Alcha

My niece who had passed out of a fashion designing institute in Chennai two years ago, was bored with her "placement" job in Bangalore and asked me whether she could come and work for my textile and craft shop. I warned her about the inadequacies of Santiniketan in catering to the interests of the city-bred and said that while she may find the work interesting, the place may be tough to take. She came despite my warning but fled in six months. But this story is not about her.It's about one of her designs we implemented. "Can we not sell 'tik tak' clips?" she asked me one day. Of course, we can sell anything that is aesthetically pleasing. "But what are 'tik tak' clips?" I asked. She explained they were named like that because they literally opened and shut with a noise. She said we could put fabric flowers on them to add value. They did look pretty when the samples were made and in my mind's eye I could see those who bought children's clothes from our shop buying these matching clips.

Keya Sarkar: When the clips are down

It was soon after I shifted to Santiniketan that I met Rahul and his wife Kirsty, who had settled there a few years ago. They had chosen to settle in a predominantly tribal village on the outskirts of Santiniketan. The land they had acquired was large and in it stood their mud house with a thatched roof. Although built in Bengal, the house had an English cottage look about it, making the collaborative effort between the couple apparent to any visitor.They then ran a restaurant, which was open only in the evenings. In between this and bringing up their three children they also managed to teach a few village children. But as their children grew, their energy to run the restaurant waned and was soon given up. The teaching, however, continued. Together with home schooling for their own children, Kirsty and Rahul seemed to get more and more involved with children in the area who wished to learn more than what was being taught in their village schools.Named "Suchana", the endeavour was desig

Keya Sarkar: Beyond classroom learning

It was a couple of years ago that I met Alijan mia. Alijan comes from Jharkhand to sell baskets at the annual mela held in Santiniketan every December. He doesn't make them, just trades in them. He buys them from tribals in and around his village and sells them at fairs. Attracted by the pile of baskets, I remember having walked towards Alijan at the fair. But while looking at his baskets my eyes fell on a quilt that lay next to his wares.Obviously used the night before since Alijan had spent the night at the fair ground under a plastic sheet that he and his co-villagers had put up to keep the cold at bay, the quilt lay in an exquisite heap. I tiptoed over the baskets, and reached over to the rug much to Alijan's amazement. As I held the quilt, which was made by layering at least six to eight sarees, and then hand embroidered, I asked Alijan if it was for sale.He said it wasn't since his wife had made it for him. I took his address and told him I would visit his village to see a few mo

Keya Sarkar: Lessons from travelling salesmen

Now that many people visiting Santiniketan know of the craft shop that I run, and, therefore, know of my access to "village girls" who can embroider, I am often asked whether I would do work on order. People sometimes want something done for personal use, or many a time for resale in their boutiques.The ones for personal use often want near disintegrating heirlooms restored by some random embroidery. And boutique owners are normally long on ideas but short on perseverance required for implementation. I have a policy of avoiding both. First because of my extreme discomfort with other peoples' creative ideas but more importantly because it is an extremely tricky business. Embroidery, that is. And taking on that risk for oneself is one story but doing it with others people's emotions or money is quite another.More often than not when I refuse people who make such requests they feel it is because I can't promise them a date of delivery. "We are not in a hurry," they say in order to change

Keya Sarkar: A poor work schedule

For all the time that I can remember, our house in Santinketan has been given a lime wash (chunkam) every time the walls looked grubby. My father worked as a salesman for a paint company for the better part of his career and our house in Kolkata fell prey to many experiments that his company used to recommend. At times we would come back from school to see strange colours on the inside walls of our house which were bearable because they had names such as "mushroom magic" or "apple green" on the shade card!Thankfully, my father never tried any stunts with our house in Santiniketan. I always remember the house in shades of yellow, which was achieved by staining the chuna. Inside, the walls were stark white. With large trees around, the one-storied house needed the white to bring in some brightness.After I moved to Santiniketan, I continued with the tradition of chuna for the exterior walls but made a change for the interior. I covered the walls with a layer of gobar (cow dung) mixed with

Keya Sarkar: Our walls, their walls

Ever since we shifted to Santiniketan from Mumbai many relatives and friends have visited us. They have either stayed with us or elsewhere but spent most of their time either at our home or, strangely, at our cafe. Experiencing our blissful laid-back mornings, long breakfasts and evening "adda" sessions at the cafe with those staying in or visiting from near and far - many have said how they would also like to make a move away from the city.Then, of course, we have to listen to why they can't. Some have important work to do, some have children to settle, some have property to buy and so on. It is strange how many of them feel the need for long explanations about what keeps them from calling it quits. It's as if they are under pressure to say that they would if they could. Our reaction is predictable. We make inane noises like "actually, one has to choose the right time". "We were lucky we had no liabilities". Things we need to say in order to put our guests at ease.The other refrain we

Keya Sarkar: The art of opting out

Even though it had done a little over 30,000 km and was in pretty good condition, we decided to sell our car. We do have a Maruti service centre in Bolpur-Santiniketan which is just about okay for getting your car serviced but is woefully inadequate if there is something really wrong with it. Then you have to travel 100 km either to Burdwan or Asansol to have a dealer-mechanic diagnose the problem.Since we had had the car for eight years we thought that despite a great performance the Swift may start grumbling and it would be better for us to trade it for a new one. I remember the time I sold my car in Mumbai. We went to some second-hand car mart and approached the gentleman sitting at a desk in the middle of over a hundred cars. We had never done this before and were wary of getting a raw deal. But the man was really efficient. The negotiations took a couple of minutes, documents were verified and the cheque was in my hand even before I could say bye to the car!In Santiniketan, of cou

Keya Sarkar: Swift decisions on car buys

When I first arrived in Santiniketan a decade ago, setting up a business of handmade things was just a dream. Of course, the fact that Santiniketan is surrounded by villages where artisans are employed in various traditional crafts made the transition from dream to reality smooth.Since I had no experience in design or craft, I had to learn pretty much everything by observation. It was by watching visiting weavers, dyers, embroiderers, leather workers, ironsmiths and wood carvers that I learnt how each craft was practised and about its economics.I particularly remember my visit to leather factories (Santiniketan is known for leather crafting). Located in the small bylanes of Bolpur, the town next to Santiniketan, the factories were dark, dingy sheds reeking of leather and dye. These were crammed with young boys, who worked side by side on tables and used small iron hammers as tools.When I decided to start my own leather unit, I picked a few of the boys whom I had watched working on my v

Keya Sarkar: Factory with a view

It was in January 2010, that the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) had submitted a proposal to UNESCO to include Rabindranath Tagore's Santiniketan as a world heritage site. Despite efforts by the ministry of culture at the Centre and departments at the state level, the proposal was rejected by UNESCO.For many months after this incident, however, the authorities at Visva-Bharati (the university in Santiniketan vested with follow-up for the "heritage status") continued the "has been shortlisted" pretence to try and rein in the builders' lobby from encroaching into what it called a "buffer zone" around the university area which it claimed had to be maintained.The hotel industry and transport operators in Santiniketan continued to believe it was only a matter of time before the status would be conferred on their milch town.But it looks as if the authorities and powers at Tagore's Visva-Bharati have finally given up hope of being included in this august list. From the changes being effe

A 'gated community' makeover

It was a usual evening at the textile and craft shop that I run in Santiniketan. I was chatting with the sales girls to find out how their day had gone, when a few people entered the shop. I noticed a young Japanese girl among them. I knew she was not one of the students at the university because I know almost all of them (since they frequent our adjoining cafe).She went around the shop, picked a few small things and brought them to the cash desk. She then turned to me and asked whether I was "Keyadi". How did she know my name? She had said she was recently in Dharamshala where she met another Japanese girl who gave her my reference. Intrigued but pleased that my fame was spreading, we started to chat and i discovered that she was a graphic designer and now on a long trip in India.She asked whether she could visit our workshop so we fixed a time for her to visit the next day. She came over and I showed her around and explained all our processes. She took many photographs and over coffe

Spice route to Japan

Every summer in Santiniketan when the heat gets unbearable, residents remind themselves that it is the intensity of the heat that ensures the ripening of mangoes and jackfruits. So looking up at trees makes us wonder if all the sweating will be worth it.Since many houses - whether with small gardens or large - have at least a couple of fruit trees, conversations at the onset of summer are dominated by whether or not they have flowered. Then there are worries if the nor'westers will make the flowers fall off, or whether the first rains will make stems stronger. Was there a good yield last year? What do we expect this year? Have hailstorms caused much damage? Well, then, we will just have to make pickles with the bruised mangoes.Normal preoccupations every year. But this year, thanks to the meagre crop last year, our mango trees were promising more fruits than ever. In the midst of all these discussions, we announced our annual holiday. Coincidentally, our dates clashed with the ripening

Mango people on roaming

On my arrival in Santiniketan, now almost 10 years ago, I remember being thoroughly confused about the days of the week on which shops in different areas remained shut. While most of Bolpur town and the university town remained closed for the second half on Tuesdays and the whole of Wednesdays, there were exceptions to this rule.There was one market near the Tagore museum that remained shut on Tuesdays, but opened on Wednesdays; and pharmacies that remained shut on Fridays. Whether the shops in Bolpur town had followed the same routine even before Tagore established Visva-Bharati University in Santiniketan (and made Wednesday, the founder's day, the weekly-off) or they wrapped their lives around their newer but more famous adjoining town later, is not known. But the fact is that they had coordinated their weekly-offs till recently.As in all government universities, the vice-chancellor (V-C) is appointed by the government; and, in this case, for a tenure of five years. Probably wanting

If it ain't shut, it's open!

Many of those who visited my craft shop in Santiniketan had been asking for "brown" or "hulled" rice. Probably the ambience of the shop - the fact that we use no plastic and that recycling plays a big part in the products we design - made them think that we might have access to some villagers with a hull. Those who asked were mostly tourists from Kolkata, and as far as I know there are many shops that sell "brown" rice in the city, and even claim it to be organic. But the price, perhaps, is prohibitive.However, their faith in my knowledge was misplaced. I had no clue where could I find manually dehusked rice in or around Santiniketan. But I started asking around. Many artisans I work with live in villages in the suburbs of Santiniketan, but most of them drew a blank. They said their villages had hulls, but they had been abandoned several moons ago since nobody liked to eat that rice anymore. "Only milled rice makes you feel you are eating rice," they said in disdain, and advised me not

Brown rice and Bluetooth

Ever since I came to Santiniketan, some acquaintances involved in real estate dealings had been telling me to invest in land. Since I had not bought even a tile by way of real estate in Mumbai, despite the best of financial advice, I thought I should now pay attention. Besides, compared to Mumbai, land prices here were so ridiculously low that it didn't seem like an existence-threatening risk. Four years ago, I finally succumbed, and along with two other friends, bought three acres of land, seven kilometres away from my present home.Having no children whose future I need to secure, I have no love for real estate. I already have a house to stay in, and I knew I was not going to build another. My friends who stay in Kolkata said they wished to build a second home, and I had simply partnered with them for moral support.The land was next to a tribal village and so unspoilt that we used to park our car a mile away and walk to it when we visited. Initially, the excitement was high and much p

The real costs of land

My friend, who had been out of Santiniketan for sometime, texted me while still on her return journey by train. "Back in paradise," she wrote. If Santiniketan is paradise for us who stay here through the year, it becomes especially so in winter. The nip in the air, the flowers, the friends and family who visit around this time of the year  make every winter magical.For those of us for whom food is a big part of any magic, winter scores high on that count, too. Since we grow most winter vegetables in our gardens  peas, beans, tomatoes, palak and moolis  every meal is a feast. In fact, most friends who were wary of visiting us knowing our preference for vegetarian food, have changed their minds, at least for the time they have stayed with us. Of course, the vegetarian friends have loved the taste of vegetables grown organically, and conversations at the lunch table have often ended with them asking us to look for a plot in Santiniketan that they could buy. This desire to live in a small

Keya Sarkar: My chef's choice

Tagore's city gets an uninspiring 'brand' ambassadorThis offering is a welcome addition to books on â€œBrand Santiniketanâ€ that, despite the falling standards of Rabindranath Tagoreâ€™s Viswa Bharati University, continues to draw visitors not only from all over India but from across the globe.Samit Das, the author, was a student of Viswa Bharatiâ€™s art faculty Kala Bhavana and the few years that he spent as a student have enabled him to imbibe Tagoreâ€™s sense of space (ably illustrated by his own photographs) and how closely related it is to the everyday life of students and teachers. Das also elaborates well on how Tagoreâ€™s sense of space was deeply influenced by his own sense of aesthetics and which he had inherited as part of Jorasanko, his ancestral home.It is in the prefix to  Tagoreâ€™s Concept of Space  that Das overpromises. By including in the title of the book the words â€œArchitecture of Santiniketanâ€ Das lets down his reade

Santiniketan: The home and the world

There are two distinct parts to Santiniketan &mdash; one that houses the Visva Bharati University and the students and teachers who live around it, and another, where those who are not connected to the university live. Unfortunately, much of the area covered by the latter &ndash; and which is growing at a rapid rate &ndash; stays empty for most of the year. The elite from Kolkata, and increasingly the not-so-elite, are building their second homes in Santiniketan and come over only on weekends.

<B>Keya Sarkar:</B> Garbage in, more garbage in

Since Santiniketan is very close to the Jharkhand border (a two-hour drive), there is a sizeable population of migrants from the state, and from Chhattisgarh and Bihar. They are all referred to as &ldquo;Biharis&rdquo; by Bengalis. Since my childhood, it was a known fact that Biharis are much better at manual labour than Bengalis. So, when I first arrived in Santiniketan 10 years ago, I thought I must look for a Bihari lady to give me a daily massage.

Keya Sarkar