In some or the other way, aren’t we all on present continuous voyages of discovery, which in retrospect are like passages of ones’ life? One of the most wonderful passages of my life is the present continuous ever since my five-year-old niece Harika came to live with me over two years ago. My household and I, all revolve around her little finger rather unabashedly. Let me start from the beginning. Ever since I saw her on day one lying patiently by herself in the incubator in a neo-natal ICU in Dubai, as she was a premature baby, I was besotted. Initial fears and prayers for her survival were paramount, and literally not a single day has passed of all her five years that I have not spoken to her no matter which part of the globe she happened to be in, even when she could only gurgle as I talked to her!
Needless to say, I qualify for the favourite aunt status and I even have a mug trophy to prove it! And also needless to say, I am a huge one to give into her demands, much to the chagrin of her mother! This little bundle of joy has taught me so much about myself that I’ll ever be grateful to her. Yet having said this, I still feel that motherhood per se is a highly over-rated and unenviable experience requiring oodles of patience and a martyr complex in today’s lifestyle. But of that another time.
Back to the light of my life: Ever since Harika came into my life, understandably toys are a huge pre-occupation with me and I am appalled by the over-priced and ridiculously bad quality of toys of Chinese origin that have flooded the Indian market. Wonderfully packaged in beautifully printed cardboard boxed sealed in cellophanes are the worst rip-offs. Invariably most of them have virtually nothing in them save a dice or two and some more not-so-well printed bakwas cards. And even in a gentle, civilized baby like Harika’s hands, these toys usually don’t last beyond a couple of days.
In the absence of strict laws governing child safety these toxic, very easily breakable and unsafe toys have inundated the Indian market. If I were part of even the Chinese government, I would ban the manufacture of such toys and certainly their export. It brings the Chinese a bad name and even their high-end brands suffer thanks to this. And the less said about the greed of Indian importers who bring this absolute tripe into the country the better. The easiest would be to stop the entry of such consignments from China into India. They do nothing but generate vast amounts of unrecyclable plastic and cardboard and exceedingly short lived pleasure.
These glittery toys have effectively elbowed out indigenous toys that could be handed down even to the next generation seem out of museum almost in this day and age. Many artists have been inspired into creating toys that have captured the imagination for these were created by unconventional thinkers. Even our very own M.F. Husain indulged in creating toys that recently went up for auction in London.
In this context, when I received an invitation to Priyendra Shukla’s exhibition Toy Shop, I was most enthused. Off went Harika and yours truly to the show with vast amounts of excitement and anticipation. For I had promised to bribe her with a toy from the show assuming that there toys to be found in the toy shop! But much to Harika’s disappointment, these were paintings inspired by toys that Priyendra must have seen his children play with. But of course, I had to make good my promise to her by acquiring more Chinese nonsense. How she related to the works was another experience all together.
For his part, Priyendra relates the experience of seeing his eight-month-old son focused on a toyshop “where his whole world converges on that object of desire…but at another level, isn’t his innocent craving summing up our lives? Aren’t our lives a never-ending succession of wanting this or that? And then quickly coming to terms with our gain and wanting something else or sulking when we do not get our toy? This series is about the toyshop that is life. For sometimes, it can be unnerving to realise that while I am bust putting my life together, someone looks on in amusement...” It is this bemusement that Priyendra shares with us. This series takes his Godhuli style a step forward where all extraneous lines fall away and only the still core remains. Not often is the growth in artists palpable for many are getting ensnared by their own “ism” or genre.
It is my conviction that the average English reader in India usually doesn’t read Hindi, including yours truly. So when Neha Bakshi chose to write Aarambh ki Gyanran Kahaniyan in Hindi, it didn’t enthuse me particularly. But her stories recount the tale of Indian women in a charming manner and impel you to read further. And I am glad I did.

Dr Alka Raghuvanshi is an art writer, curator and artist and can be contacted on alkaraghuvanshi@yahoo.com