A most unusual friendship

Posted on by bijalv

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Maya G. Leonard’s fictional tale of a boy and the world of beetles is written with humour, warmth and respect

http://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/mumbai/entertainment/a-most-unusual-friendship/article9022609.ece

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What happens when you’re terrified of insects? You write a book about them, of course. Or at least that’s what Maya G. Leonard did, and the result is the brilliant Beetle Boy (Scholastic), the first of a three-book series.

“I was writing a different story, about a villain who I imagined living in a place filled with insects, which I recognise now is a terrible cliché,” says Leonard, who lives in Brighton and works as a digital producer with the National Theatre in London. “Insects are often used to suggest a negative otherness,” she adds.

Fascinating insects

As Leonard began researching insects, she found herself fascinated by them. “I Googled different types of insects, to describe them accurately, and I was genuinely shocked when I learned about beetles and how adaptable, important and beautiful they are,” she says, in an email interview. “I don’t know if it was my own fear of insects, lack of education in the natural world or plain ignorance that meant I’d grown to adulthood without realising how wonderful these creatures are, but I was interested in that ignorance. I’m very ordinary, and I thought, if I didn’t know how essential beetles are to our ecosystem, then there is a good chance that most people don’t know. I decided to do something about my ignorance, something positive, and tell a story where the insects are the good guys.”

About a boy

The book, Beetle Boy, is the story of Darkus Cuttle, a 13-year-old boy whose father suddenly disappears from his workplace, the Natural History Museum. The mystery deepens when Baxter, a clever rhinoceros beetle befriends Darkus. So many questions: how does Baxter understand Darkus, are these mysterious events connected with the evil Lucretia Cutter who has built an empire of insect jewellery, and can Darkus count on his new friends, Virginia and Bertolt?

Of course, Beetle Boy is a triumph in that it underscores the value of unlikely friendships and makes for a thrilling read. “Children’s hearts and eyes are open to the wonder of the world and they are slow to judge,” says Leonard. “The story had to be about children discovering the wonderful world of beetles because adult’s opinions are often already formed and resistant to change. At the heart of this story is the powerful relationship between a boy and a beetle, and the friendships he makes in the face of adversity. It is those friendships that give him the courage to be heroic and find his father.”

But what also makes it an unusual story is the manner in which Leonard conjures up a sense of wonder about arthropods. You can’t help but marvel at her descriptions of the stag beetles with their “monstrous antler-like mandibles” or frog-legged beetles with their cherry-red exoskeleton that shimmers as it moves, or wonder at dung beetles and Hercules beetles. There’s awe, humour, warmth, and respect in Leonard’s portrayal of beetles. Suddenly, you want to be out there, peering at every blade of grass, observing these beautiful, wondrous creatures.

“I did all of the research for Beetle Boy by myself, over four years,” says Leonard. “I read everything I could, watched every video, looked at a billion images and filled my head with beetles. I care greatly that I do justice to the beetles, and in writing about entomologists, I wanted to show the importance of the science and the work they do.” When Leonard got a publishing deal with Chicken House, she decided to get an entomologist to look at the story. “I wouldn’t have let it be published without a scientist approving of the content,” she says. “That’s how I met Dr. Sarah Beynon, who is a specialist in dung beetles and runs The Bug Farm in Pembrokeshire. She was amazing, and edited the book for factual accuracy, pointing out my rookie errors. For example, I’d referred to a beetle’s exoskeleton as a shell, which I corrected.”

Cast of characters

Leonard also throws in a handful of unforgettable characters: human and insects, one of the most compelling being Lucretia Cutter. “I love a good villainess, because they shock or frighten a reader by violently bucking the gender stereotypes of women as fragile, maternal or compliant,” says the writer. “For me, a great villainess has to have intense desires, a searing intellect and an intriguing glamour or mesmerising repulsiveness.

I knew before I started writing Beetle Boy that my power-hungry scientist and super-villain would be a woman. I named her ‘Lucretia’ after the infamous Lucrezia Borgia who has inspired many villainous incarnations and ‘Cutter’ for the tailoring job it describes, as well as the literal meaning of the word. There is nothing soft about Lucretia Cutter, she’s all malicious intent and sharp edges. I can’t say much more about her without ruining the story, but she will horrify you.

Respecting nature

A recurrent theme in Beetle Boy is respect for nature: there’s sinister genetics engineering at play, and at the same time, you realise how unique the insects are, without being tampered with. “When I was researching for Beetle Boy I discovered that humans have already genetically engineered insects, fruit flies and mosquitoes,” says Leonard.

“The debate around the possible dangers of meddling with genetics and the impact on the ecosystem interested me,” she says.

“I wondered what might happen if you genetically engineered the most adaptable creature on the planet, which is of course the beetle. As far as I know, there has been no genetic engineering of beetles, which left me free to imagine. I love the Frankenstein story and am drawn to questions of this nature, because there is no right or wrong, just responsibility and consequence.”

The second book in the trilogy, Beetle Queen, is slated to be published in April 2017, with Leonard promising that the “adventure gets darker, funnier, and travels further than Beetle Boy”.

If we were beetles, our antennae would be quivering with anticipation.

Three things you must know about the author

Favourite beetle

“My favourite beetle changes every week because with over 3,50,000 known species to choose from, it’s impossible to pick one. I find the tiger beetle very funny. A tiger beetle runs so fast it can’t see, so sprints in short zig-zag bursts and has giant bulbous eyes to orientate it when it stops.”

Writing stories

“I’ve always been drawn towards performed stories, and have worked with a rich variety of artists in my professional life from The Royal Ballet to Shakespeare’s Globe. I struggled with words and grammar when I was at school, which was why dance was the initial area of the arts that interested me, but as I’ve grown and become more practised with language my desire to write my stories down has increased, and I don’t mind admitting I’m proud of Beetle Boy.”

Once-upon-a-time fear of insects

“My fear of insects is important because I have come to realise that fear stems from a lack of understanding. It was an interesting challenge to use positive language to describe the insects because my brain initially gave me words with negative associations. In striving to think of the beetles positively, describing them as friendly and wonderful, I have somehow reprogrammed my own brain.

“A spider can still startle me, but I keep a pair of rainbow stag beetles at home now, and I love them. Perhaps if this book had existed when I was young, I wouldn’t have spent 20 years frightened of mini-beasts. The imagination is a powerful thing.”

Bijal Vachharajani writes about education for sustainable development, conservation, and food security. She’s the former editor of Time Out Bengaluru

Creating a picture book challenge

Posted on by bijalv

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http://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/mumbai/creating-a-picture-book-challenge/article8972333.ece
The ‘ChallengeAccepted’ hashtag has been perplexing me for a while. I keep seeing people post the hashtag along with a photograph of them in black-and-white or some such confounding theme on social media. And honestly, I looked for a challenge, I solemnly swear I did. I looked high and low for one. I even googled it to understand better, but I just couldn’t find it. I mean, I have been in more challenging situations, including getting my 3G to work, on most days. And honestly, Barney Stinson would not be impressed.

Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t see the difficulty in putting up a black-and-white profile picture, and not only because we now have filters to do it in a few taps. It’s pretty, yes, but I think we can afford to have some actual challenging posts for a change.

Over the past few years, we have seen plenty of stuff go viral: from the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge, in all its incredulousness, spotlighted the disorder (not to mention spurring countless analyses of the social media phenomena), to book swaps to people showing off their beautiful handlooms on National Handloom Day and committing to the #100SareePact.

Given how much time we while away on social media, maybe as people who love children’s books — as parents, teachers, enthusiasts — we can put that to good use. Like setting our own #Challenge, both offline and online, about sharing stories and the joy of reading.

In less than a month, on September 8, we will be celebrating International Literacy Day.

According to a UNESCO report, India has a 76.43 per cent literacy rate. However, that doesn’t necessarily translate to actual learning. According to a story by IndiaSpend, “Only a fourth of all children in Standard (Std.) III can read a Std. II text fluently, a drop of more than five per cent over four years. With math, a quarter of children in Std. III could not recognise numbers between 10 and 99, a drop of 13 per cent over four years, according to the 2014 Annual Status Report on Education (ASER).”

These figures tell a bleak story about reading and learning.

Picture books are a great starting point for visual literacy. Many of us have a stack of them lying around, and when our kids grow older, we donate those books to libraries, schools, and NGOs, or pass them on to other young readers. Some people directly read to children, and others support charities that enable access to books. Donate-a-Book by Pratham Books is one such initiative. It aims “to help bridge the gap between those who want to help children read and those who need books for children.” Here, institutions such as schools and libraries put in book requests and people can donate money to help get books to them. According to their website, even Rs. 500 can translate to 15 books.

Apart from that, there’s the Pratham Books’ Champion campaign where volunteers can sign up to conduct storytelling sessions in their community. This year, they are celebrating One Day One Story, where the “idea is to encourage children to fall in love with reading. These sessions are conducted free of cost and mostly with children from under-served communities. We hope that these storytelling sessions will also bring to light the issues of joyful reading, access and multilingual publishing.”

Similarly, you can choose to support Room to Read, whose literacy programme “transforms primary schools into child-friendly learning environments that enable children to develop the skills and habit of reading throughout primary school and become life-long, independent readers.” Or volunteer with Akanksha Foundation that looks at providing “children from low-income communities with a high-quality education, enabling them to maximise their potential and transform their lives.”

And of course you can throw open the challenge on social media. Invite your virtual (and real) friends to commit to sharing at least five picture books with a child or a parent who doesn’t have easy access to books.

My go-to sites are Pratham Books, Eklavya, and Tulika Books. The books start from as little as Rs. 12, so they won’t burn a hole in your pocket. You can get bilingual and activity book sets at fabulous prices as well. May I suggest posts like this one: Calling out to who love stories. All you have to do is buy five picture books and share it with someone who has a child but doesn’t have easy access to books. It could be your auto rickshaw driver, your bhajiwallah , your fish lady (so on and so forth). Let’s share stories with children in the offline world. If you agree, copy and paste this post on your wall, starting with #ChallengeAccepted.

Alright, perhaps not. But you get the drift. What would be wonderful if you can, along with keys, cell phone chargers, and mints, pop in a few picture books in your bag. Share them with children you meet, or parents. Invite them into the magical world of stories, and with that literacy. So, challenge accepted?

Amplifying unheard voices

Posted on by bijalv

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Using illustrations and text, Shrujana Niranjani Shridhar’s book, Aamu’s Kawandi, tells a subtle story of the Siddis, the people of African origin in India

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http://www.thehindu.com/todays-paper/tp-features/tp-metroplus/amplifying-unheard-voices/article8965473.ece

In the year that President Barack Obama was re-elected, Shrujana Niranjani Shridhar came across a story in The Hindu (January 21, 2013) about the Siddis celebrating the victory. The Siddis are people of African origin who have been living in India for centuries. “That was really how I found out about the Siddis,” says the Mumbai-based artist.

As a student at the Srishti School of Art, Design, and Technology in Bengaluru, Shridhar got the opportunity to work on a picture book on the Siddis for her final diploma project in 2014. “We had a choice between many different communities and I went with the Siddis,” she says. “Indian society is very racist and casteist, and one can only imagine how marginalised an Indo-African tribe would then be. I thought it was important that the new generation have the chance to learn of India’s pluralism and all the different kinds of ‘Indians’ who struggle to survive.”

Patchwork stories

The result is Aamu’s Kawandi , written and illustrated by Shridhar and published by the Delhi-based Katha. The story is about a little Siddi girl, Aamu, who flits about the pages of the picture book, introducing the reader to her friends Chinni and Jojo, her family, and her community that lives in Mainalli in Karnataka.

Aamu’s mother makes beautiful patchwork quilts called kawandi , and so the little girl decides to make one as well, but out of paper. “Siddi women traditionally make one big quilt, or even a baby quilt, out of scraps from everyone’s clothes. Aamu’s mother also makes quilts, and like most little girls, she’s very proud of her mother and imitates her, which is why she also makes a kawandi ,” says Shridhar.

Her prose is exuberant, taking you on a whirlwind tour of Aamu’s life. Her illustrations are bright and happy, just like the colourful patchwork quilts, with myriad textures and hues popping up all across the book. At the same time, she manages to talk about some of the struggles the community faces. “It was difficult to introduce concepts of identity, poverty, pride etc. to children in a storybook,” she says. “We’re not used to reading about stories like these, so even as an author, one found it challenging to fit it into the framework of a storybook. Children are very intelligent and pick up on small subtle things.”

Shridhar says one of the aspects that she struggled with was explaining that most Siddis used to be bonded labour. “How do you explain that to a child?” she asks. “But I just had to subtly state that Aamu’s grandmother used to work on someone else’s land and that now her mother works for herself. A little boy who read the book identified that the grandmother might not have been treated very well, and was very curious about what ended up happening to her,” she recounts.

Grappling with complexities

Shridhar began her project by researching dthe Siddis. “At the start, I didn’t draw anything. Just read a lot,” she says. “I read works by sociologists on the African diaspora, I read some of Margret Mead’s work. I even read [Jyotirao] Phule’s Slavery (which he had dedicated to the African-American slaves); basically, everything to help me understand the general situation.”

When they went on their first recce, the book team met Obeng Pashington, a scholar in African diaspora studies who has worked with the Siddis for many years. It turned out to be an inspiring experience for Shridhar, but for her, most of the observations happened while sitting around sketching the village and its people casually, or through conversations with them.

Of course, it wasn’t easy to translate all that she observed into a picture book. “After a couple of us went on-field for the first time, I was totally devastated,” says Shridhar. “I couldn’t connect anything I had read to what I had seen. Every time I’d come back home from a visit to Mainalli, I would be in a daze. I wanted to explore some very complex subjects like the identity of politics or gender segregation that I didn’t have a total grasp on myself. But one day after I came back from a trip to Mainalli, I realised that if I had to present my culture to someone new, I’d do it from a place of pride, and that sense of pride set the tone for the story,” she adds.

Building character

One of wonderful things about Aamu’s Kawandi is Aamu. She’s boisterous, adorable, and a complete loveable child. “I loved designing Aamu’s character,” says Shridhar. “The children I’d spend time in Bangalore were obviously very different from the ones at Mainalli. The children at Mainalli were very active and physical children because they have that kind of physical space. For Aamu, I thought of everything from how her mother would tie her hair to what her favourite colour was. There were details about her character that obviously wouldn’t be part of the story but it helped in forming it. In fact, once I had Aamu down, the story just fell in to place.”

Since her graduation, Shridhar has been trying to merge her art with activism, to amplify unheard voices. Aamu is just the start. “I believe firstly, as humans we don’t exist in isolation and so naturally nor does an artist,” she says. Adding that, “All our ideas that we attribute to being our own come from the world around us and that’s why my work is a reflection of it. I believe in standing by people because that’s where you come from, I mean we have only one home (for now at least) and we only have each other. Art is just a medium for me.”

The author writes on education for sustainable development, conservation and food security. She’s the former editor of Time Out Bengaluru

The story is about Aamu, who introduces the reader to her friends Chinni and Jojo, her family, and her community

Before they grow up

Posted on by bijalv

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As the sole maasi to a nine-year-old nephew, I am afforded certain privileges that few in the family are privy to. The nephew would call me in urgent tones from his Dubai home to discuss a paragraph in the sixth Harry Potter book, or to ask when I think he will get his Hogwarts letter. His mother would shake her head in exasperation at the long distance call, as he whispered confidences about his classmates and discussed the latest books and games with me. I only see him a few times a year, and sometimes I get the feeling that he’s growing up like a weed, too fast for me to catch up.

It’s not only that every time I see him he’s about a head taller. He now inhabits a world that I am not always familiar with: the video games he plays, the YouTube channels he follows, and even the fact that he’s moved on to Alex Rider from Harry Potter! It was easier talking about The Gruffalo and the lives of adventurers, rather than the merits (what demerits?) of Minecraft. Suddenly, I was worried that maybe I was slipping from cool aunt position: at one point he thought I was a witch who went to Hogwarts and an explorer, rolled into one.

Since his nose is often buried in an iPad or another screen, I had a full-scale plan drawn up for when he visited Mumbai this year for his annual holiday: ‘Mission Explore Mumbai and Think Maasi is Cool Once Again’. From a leisurely hike in Sanjay Gandhi National Park to a museum day and taking a walk around Bandra marvelling at street art, I was ready with an itinerary.

Of course, I didn’t factor in on our city’s torrential monsoon; we spent most of those days cooped up at home playing Battleship and Jenga Quake. Much to my dismay, we ticked off something like one-and-a-half things from my itinerary. We managed to reach Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Vastu Sangrahalaya (CSMVS) from Andheri, but first made a beeline for lunch, because it took so long to get there. After being fortified by Suzette’s hot chocolate and crepes, we spent an afternoon muddling around the museum. The nephew tried on different turbans, made himself several block-printed cards, a roller press print, and a Lung-ta prayer flag, was equally fascinated and repelled by the bone jewellery in the Himalayan Art Gallery, and giggled at the size of some of the Mughal costumes.

That day, it took us four-and-a-half hours to get back home. To my surprise, he didn’t fret for a tablet (‘no screens’ was my one condition of taking him out). Instead, he spent the hours experimenting with some coffee beans he had taken from Starbucks and a bottle of water. He sniffed at the decoction he had created and made observations. I answered questions about Mumbai’s history and the sights we passed. The nephew drew a poop family tree in my notebook, while I met a friend for a quick cup of coffee, and then judiciously explained each family member to us. When I picked up my phone to message my sister, with a slight air of superiority, about the screen-free day and the value of boredom, the nephew pointed out that I was using my phone too much. I couldn’t help but make a comment about smart alecks, as I dropped my phone back into my purse.

Another day, we visited Trilogy by the Eternal Library, and I lost him to the world of books for some time.

One evening, we walked down to say hello to a friend’s dog. My sister is terrified of dogs, and the nephew hasn’t met too many in Dubai. But Dane is the gentlest dog I have met; he let himself be pet, and didn’t jump at the nephew, who is still a bit skittish around animals. He came back home announcing, “Dane is the best dog ever”, going on to give an embellished account of the play time to his nani.

We watched Howl’s Moving Castle and agreed that the hopping scarecrow was creepy enough to keep the lights on a bit longer that night.

On the penultimate day, my father had an appointment in Santa Cruz, so despite the crazy rain, we crammed into the car. My parents did their visiting, while my nephew asked if he could wait outside and look at the rain. Armed with a pair of umbrellas, he and I watched the rain fall all around us, pointing out the patterns that rivulets made on leaves and the way everything looked scrubbed clean. We made pretend-rain measurement tools with twigs to guess how much rain had fallen so far. He put out his hand and squealed with delight as the rain fell on his outstretched palm. We tore out pages from my notebook to make paper boats.

As we carefully set the first one in a puddle, I asked him if he’s ever sailed a paper boat. He thought carefully, and said no. We watched our paper boats wend their way through precarious roots, whirlpools, and bob across pebbles and leaves. A blue plastic wire became the Bermuda Triangle that the boats needed to avoid, while the nephew took on the role of on-shore captain. As the tiniest boat started to sink, the nephew let go of my hand, to raise his wrist to his mouth, as if talking into an imaginary gadget. He reported that the boat has been torpedoed by the enemy pirates.

For now, he wasn’t growing up too fast, for me.

http://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/mumbai/before-they-grow-up/article8842436.ece

On loving and hating Mumbai

Posted on by bijalv

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http://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/mumbai/entertainment/on-loving-and-hating-mumbai/article8786404.ece

There’s plenty to love about growing up in the madness of Mumbai, but lots to despise as well. I asked a few parents to share what they love and what they hate about bringing up their children in the city.

Rajesh Tahil works in the media and has three children aged 6, 11, and 15

What I love about bringing up my child in Mumbai

It’s home. They are growing up in a neighbourhood that we have lived in for decades. They are close to family, it’s great to see them grow up with aunts and uncles, and their dogs and cats (and fish).

It is a ‘big city’, so they have rich experiences, like visiting museums, music events and food festivals etc. And while these may not be of the best standards, they are certainly not dissimilar to what one would experience in any other ‘big city’.

What I hate about bringing up my child in Mumbai

The lack of open spaces, lack of clean air, too much noise. People generally drive like idiots, a basic lack of civic sense. And because of that, almost invariably “doing stuff”, which equals to spending money i.e. going for a movie or out for lunch rather than just walking or going to a park.

P.S. Also, no beef burgers and mediocre pizza.

Anita Vachharajani is a writer and has an 11-year-old child

What I love about bringing up my child in Mumbai

Growing up in Mumbai, as a single parent who worked two jobs, I never felt restricted in any way. I hope that sense of safety and freedom continues to stay around longer, so that my child can grow up feeling like her city is a safe one.

I enjoy the limited glimpses of nature that this city still offers. Like the squirrels and the birds that visit our balcony, the trees and the mangroves we get to see.

I like that Mumbai exposes my child to diverse people. There is no one language we all speak, no one food we eat, and no one set of gods we pray to. I feel that simply because Mumbai has, in a sense, fewer pretensions, it teaches you basic humility.

What I hate about bringing up my child in Mumbai

Mumbai doesn’t offer some things that I want for my child: like more open spaces, more access to nature, and stricter traffic rules and road safety. I think children need to play more, and it saddens me that in poorer neighbourhoods and ghettos, children have even fewer spaces to play in. But what I resent most is the diminishing greenery in the city. Everyone mourns the lack of trees, but no one objects to individual trees / groups of trees being cut, and that indifference is also peculiar to Mumbai.

Varsha Pawar works as a domestic help and has a 17-year-old child

What I love about bringing up my child in Mumbai

I love that Mumbai has plenty of opportunities, when it comes to colleges and job options, for my son. There’s so much that he can do here.

What I hate about bringing up my child in Mumbai

I live with my brother. Affordable housing is really difficult to find. If that was sorted, it would be a good place to live in.

Brian Rodrigues works in an IT company and has a 3-year-old child

What I love about bringing up my child in Mumbai

Being in one of the biggest metropolitan cities in the world, Mumbai offers you a plethora of options across all fields and avenues. Infrastructure is at an advanced stage in Mumbai.

You can find loads of institutions, be it for elementary or vocational education.

What I hate about bringing up my child in Mumbai

As we go ahead, bringing up a child becomes very competitive in nature. It almost gets them into rivalry mode at school or day care.

Vankshu Shah is an equity investor and has a three-year-old child

What I love about bringing up my child in Mumbai

It is a multi-cultural environment with a very active social and family life with wide exposure to languages and people.

What I hate about bringing up my child in Mumbai

It’s not a child-friendly city, it’s not easy bringing up a child amidst terrible pollution, and one of the biggest worries is safety. A lack of parks and good beaches are some of the other natural activities that a child misses out on. There is a terrible and expensive rat race when it comes to schooling and a very hectic study culture, denying a child the joy of childhood.

Shinibali Mitra Saigal curates children’s festivals. She has two girls, aged 10 and 4

What I love about bringing up my child in Mumbai

I love Bombay as a city because it lets you be. This is applicable not just to adults but children as well. This sense of freedom is a great thing to equip a child with. It’s also a city where a child can grow up without fear.

What I hate about bringing up my child in Mumbai

Alas, there really isn’t a lot for children to do. It’s not a children’s city. We have green spaces but we don’t do enough to lure children there.

We push indoor play areas but not Rani Bagh and Sanjay Gandhi National Park as zones for children to breathe and play in. In terms of just doing nothing yet having fun, Bombay isn’t your city. Here, it’s all about structure and that kind of breaks my heart

Reading urban dystopia

Posted on by bijalv

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http://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/mumbai/entertainment/reading-urban-dystopia-with-lawrence-liang/article8767905.ece

Explore city architecture as seen in comics and graphic novels with lawyer and writer Lawrence Liang

 

One of the most iconic images that even non-comic aficionados are familiar with, is that of Batman perched on a gargoyle, looking down at Gotham City. “It’s a bird’s eye… a god’s eye view of the city,” says lawyer and writer Lawrence Liang. “But it’s also how a city planner would look at the city.” It’s a very different perspective than the one in The Walking Man by Jirō Taniguchi, pointed out Liang, in which the Manga comic’s protagonist takes a walk around his city. “He takes the time to look around,” he adds. “You experience temporality through that. It’s a contrasting view from the one Batman has of Gotham City – there’s a distinction in seeing a city from the top and walking it.” These are just some of the discussions that participants can look forward to at “Comics and the Urban Imagination”, a four-day course that explores the representation of cities in comics and graphic novels.

Liang will be in Mumbai to teach the course as part of ‘Scaffolds, Layouts and Palimpsests’ at the School of Environment and Architecture (SEA). Participants will be introduced to a slew of international and Indian comics via the tropes of architecture, dystopia and labyrinths. Apart from offering an understanding of comics and graphic novels, the course aims to explore the role of the image and the imagination in shaping urban form. The course, according to SEA website, will examine the intersection of comics and the imagination of the city, in terms of representation and how architectural concepts may offer a new way of understanding the formal properties of comics.

Although Liang is best known for his work at the Alternative Law Forum in Bengaluru, of which he is the co-founder, he is also a film and media scholar. “I have been reading comics seriously for quite some time now,” he says. “I have always had an interest in visual culture.” According to Liang, when it comes to the visual archives of the city, both photography and cinema have been extensively mined for their ability to capture an experience. “As archives of the city, they are both intentional and unintentional,” he says. “If you look at cinema, you are often shooting on location. You capture more than what you intend to – the ambience and the archive of the city at a particular time.” Further, today’s selfie-happy culture, people are constantly taking photographs. “Rather than seeing better, there is a visual blindness,” he adds.

Which is one of the reasons that Liang is drawn to comics – while a photograph is taken, a drawing is made, creating a representation of the urban space. “What you leave or include becomes more acute in a drawing,” he says.

While landscapes are intrinsic to comic books, cityscapes are predominant in many of the narratives. No matter what their origin, superheroes have made mega cities – real and fiction – their homes and the base to fight crimes from. Phantom may feel left out, but urban landscapes are pretty much inherent to the aesthetics of comic books now. The form also gives the space to create allegorical cities, and to reinterpret the future of the cities, in all their utopian and dystopian possibilities. “The history of the city is essential to the narrative imagination of a comic,” explians Liang. “Like Batman and Gotham City. It creates a perceptual archive.”

Liang adds that there has always been a strong linkage between architecture and comics. Graphic novels and comics give free reign to the architectural imagination, making urban centres the protagonist of the narrative at times. Chris Ware’s Building Stories is one such book about the people who live in a three-level building in Chicago. It comes as a box containing 14 little books, some made from cloth, some paper. “Chris Ware slows down the action,” says Liang. “Very little happens, but there are so many images. It slows you down, to take in the minute and intricate detailing. In Building Stories, the protagonist is the building.” Then there’s Les Cités Obscures by Belgian comics’ artist François Schuiten and writer Benoît Peeters. Schuiten studied architecture and his education serves as a firm foundation for the surreal, metaphysical landscapes he conjures up here.

Liang points out the different approaches that comic book artists and writers can take while reinterpreting the city within their panels. For instance, in the Tintin books, he explains the landscape is elaborately researched. “The designs of the beams and the chairs, [Hergé] used archival material, a historical approach,” he elaborates. Science-fiction comics use the future approach, the narratives reflecting the anxieties and hopes of a city as a shared living experience.

As urbanscapes take over our literary, cinematic, and every day imagination, the phenomenon is also symptomatic to our idea of progress and development – vertical, shiny, and sleek like the cities in the pages of these graphic novels. In sharp contrast is the idea of wilderness, rural landscapes, and other unfamiliar spaces. This is an idea cleverly encompassed in The Gigantic Beard That Was Evil by Stephen Collins. The monochromatic graphic novel tells the story of Dave, who lives in an island called Here, where everything is perfect. Liang says that in Here, the city is imagined as a seamless space – a perfect realisation of modern planning. In contrast is the mayhem of There, a place of supposed chaos and fear. “It’s a space full of incredible anxiety and fear,” says Liang. “The contrast plays out interestingly, when aspects of There start emerging Here.” The Gigantic Beard may be fiction, but it the neurotic fear and anxiety it depicts, is familiar and eerily real.

Alphabet Soup

Posted on by bijalv

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http://www.thehindu.com/todays-paper/tp-national/tp-mumbai/alphabet-soup/article8730537.ece

Ever asked a toddler to recite the alphabet, or for that matter even an adult? Chances are they will rattle it back to you in a breathless singsong manner, while bouncing on the balls of their feet. Learning the alphabet is usually presented to children in a simple manner, where A is for apple with an illustration of a glossy red apple, B is for ball, Z is for Zebra and so on. For toddlers, books are designed to teach them the letters: the phonetics, their shapes, and basic word associations.

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One of the most iconic alphabet books was Rabindranath Tagore’s Sahaj Path , which introduced toddlers to Bengali as a beautiful picture book way back in 1930. The two-part series was accompanied by lino-cut illustrations by Nandalal Bose. The first part centered around the structure of the Bengali alphabet and its pronunciation, and the second used them in sentences and couplets. Then there’s the exquisitely created ABC: Touch and See (Karadi Tales) by Shobha Vishwanath, which is part of their Dreaming Fingers series. The handcrafted pictures are created with a collage of materials and textures, and the printed text goes along side Braille letters to make a tactile book. But ABC books are not just meant for toddlers. Alphabet books for older children, and even adults, are a great starting point to introduce novel ideas and concepts, and they also make for fun reading.

Prabha Mallya’s The Alphabet of Animals and Birds (Red Turtle) is a lovely way of getting children to learn about the collective nouns for animal and birds. The gorgeous illustrations show groups of animals with their collective names: A is for a shrewdness of apes, who are poring over a swarm of ants, while F is for a stand of flamingos, as they, well, stand among a skulk of foxes.

More recently, Duckbill published legendary naturalist, wildlife photographer and writer, M. Krishnan’s Book of Beasts: An A to Z Rhyming Bestiary . The alphabets lead the readers on a global jungle safari where they can meet some unusual animals. B, for instance, is for binturong, which the writer fears “may not be there for very long.” With its cat-like face, long body and prehensile tail, the curious looking animal, the reader finds out, “is very wild and very strong”. M. Krishnan wrote some of these animal verses for his granddaughter Asha Harikrishnan’s birthday, gifting the first set to her in 1990. The quirky poetry and facts are a lesson in conservation, at the same time, they point out the adverse impacts humans have on the natural world.

Alphabet books can be enchanting, irreverent or fabulously dark. Neil Gaiman and Gris Grimly’s The Dangerous Alphabet (Harper) is a subversive “piratical ghost story” where two children embark on a journey in a B for boat which pushes off in the dark in a R which is a river “that flows like a dream”, where E is for the “evil that lures and entices”. Ominous and riveting. Written by Jerry Pinto and illustrated by Sayan Mukherjee, Hey! That’s an A! (Tulika Books) is a delightful romp where the letters race around the page, accompanied by clever puns and verse.

Oliver Jeffers’ Once Upon an Alphabet goes beyond the alphabet. Each letter has its own story, rendered imaginatively, in the characteristic lucid yet dreamy form of Jeffers’ illustrations. And in his classic way, he explores themes in a few words – his verses are tinged with whimsy, fear, sadness, cleverness, and friendship.

Adults will love ABC3D (Tara Books) by French artist Marion Bataille, a book that takes the concept of pop-ups to another dimension, integrating design, architecture and movement. As you open the book, the letter C folds over to form a D, while the lower bar of the letter E retracts to become an F, and the letter V’s reflection becomes a W. The letters, which are rendered in black, white and red, move three-dimensionally across time and space, making the book a delight.

One of the most unlikely alphabet books was recommended to me by an American friend who works in sustainable fashion. He said both his daughter and he love A is for Activist (Triangle Square) by Innosanto Nagara. The board book teaches words that are important, but are not often found in picture books. ““A is for activist. Advocate. Abolitionist. Ally. Actively answering a call to action. Are you an activist?” writes Nagara. His warm and vivid illustrations are the perfect backdrop for his equally bold text. “Equal rights,” he writes, “black, brown, or white. Clean and healthy is a right. Every place we live and play environmental justice is the way!” Feminist, indigenous, immigrant, justice, LGBTQ, are not just words here. Nagara gives them meaning.

Insta-bytes of knowledge

Posted on by bijalv

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http://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/mumbai/entertainment/instabites-of-knowledge/article8675766.ece

Guess what this is?” asked wildlife photographer and filmmaker Kalyan Varma on his Instagram feed (@kalyanvarma). At first glance, the image looked like a radiating collage of Chiclets, the white chewing gum we were all addicted to as kids. Teeth, I wondered, looking at the hashtags #texture and #wildlife for clues. Finally, Varma answered, “It’s the underside of a Croc called Gharial.” This question was part of a short quiz series where Varma put up close-up shots of animals. What a wonderful idea!

Lately, I have been finding that Instagram can be a wonderful educational tool for children. There are environmental groups talking about the impact of climate change, forums to explore space, art and science, and ideas for the next dreaded craft project. Varma, for instance, posts about his travels in forests in India and different parts of the globe. His photographs inspire awe for the natural world: a shy baby stump-tailed macaque glances at his camera; a plump rare bird, resplendent in sunset colours, from the eastern Himalayas looks askance ‘ a spider hides between spores of a fern in the Western Ghats.

For teens looking for more such information, National Geographic (@natgeo) and Discovery (@discoverychannel) are packed with stunning photographs of the natural world: animals, strange flora, and remote worlds.

The magazine Time for Kids also has its @timeforkidsmagazine handle and it’s full of fascinating trivia. From learning what is lightning to why is Friday the 13th considered unlucky and interviews with filmmakers to sports, it’s all in there. Right now, there’s a call out for their Kids Reporter programme, which sounds very exciting.

Then there’s NASA’s Instagram account (@nasa), which is a wonderful way to “explore the universe and discover our home planet.” Kids can learn about the Hubble Space Telescope, the moons of different planets, and discover geography through satellite images. The photographs are stunning. Mars, for instance, looks like a covetable shiny marble, with its frosty polar caps shining bright among its “rust-coloured landscape.”

In another post, the Nili Fossae region of Mars is similar to a rugged denim-covered outcrop. There are videos of solar flares, images of aurora from space, and solar eclipses. It’s quite a journey into the universe, one told by the experts.

Art projects can do with some inspiration. Get ready to be awestruck by Colossal (@colossal). The six-year-old award-winning blog explores art and visual culture. Photography, animation, installations, drawings, street art are just some of the gorgeous stuff on their feed. As the website says, “Colossal is also a great place to learn about the intersection of art and science as well as the beauty of the natural world.” Then check out Kids Crafts (@produmamka) and Craft Ideas Magazine (@craftideasmag) for more practical inspiration: reusing plastic glasses for art work, making your own paper and creating mini cacti pincushions. Then there’s Emma Mitchell (@silverpebble2), a writer, designer and naturalist. Her Instagram feed is full of beautiful flowers, some fresh and others flattened as part of sketchbooks. It’s a wonderful way to get acquainted with diverse flora. Don’t be surprised if your child’s interest in craft projects suddenly goes up.

Techno-savvy children can check out littleBits (@littlebits), who say they are on a “mission to unleash creativity by empowering everyone to create inventions, large & small, with out platform of electronic building blocks.” On April Fool’s Day, they put up a video of a motion-triggered confetti machine, which looks like the ultimate prank. Then there’s a DIY grand piano for young engineers as well as animatronic animals and characters. Their Instagram handle is only a showcase place: you have to visit the website to understand how to create projects.

For those looking for real time updates, Everyday Climate Change (@everyday climatechange) brings together a group of photographers from five continents who document climate change. Their feed shows how the changing climate is impacting people and landscapes across the world. Don’t miss photographer and writer Arati Kumar-Rao’s (@aratikumarrao) images on Bangladesh and India on the feed.

So, tap away. But cyber safety, of course, is important; note that children below the age of 13 are not allowed to have accounts. Having a private account is also a good idea, so you can control who views the photos.

Once upon a summer’s day

Posted on by bijalv

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A round-up of the coolest books to keep your kids occupied during these infernal summer holidays

http://www.thehindu.com/books/lose-yourself-in-these-pages/article8649561.ece

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Summer vacation means the kids get to curl up with a book, a plate of sliced mangoes, and drift off to Storyville. There’s plenty of exciting stuff happening in the world of books this summer. The new Rick Riordan is just out – The Hidden Oracle: The Trials of Apollo I, and then in July, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child – The Rehearsal Edition will be published in the muggle world. Here’s a list of books to add to the reading list this summer.

For Young Adults

Asmara’s Summer by Andaleeb Wajid: A spunky story about Asmara, a hip and popular teen who finds herself relegated to her grandparents’ decidedly not-so-posh place on Tannery Road in Bangalore for the summer. Asmara’s shorts are the cause of horror to her Nani, there’s that stuffy neighbor aunty to contend with, and worse, there’s no Wi-Fi! Asmara decides not to tell her friends about this one-month interlude in her life, so she’s pretty much friendless in the area, apart from Rukhsana who’s about her age. Things start looking up when Asmara discovers that Rukhsana has a gorgeous brother. While Asmara entertains herself by starting an Instagram account to poke fun at the fashion disaster of a neighbourhood, she also discovers that there’s more to life than the way people dress and talk. A breezy read, Asmara’s Summer is also warm and has moments that are wonderfully poignant.

Hedon by Priyanka Mookerjee: Hedon is the story of the millenials. Tara Mullick meets Jay Dhillon at a wedding when she’s a teenager. An awkward, plump teen, that too. Soon she heads off to the USA to study, but she keeps in touch with Jay over texts and quick phone calls. Priyanka Mookerjee writes the story of the privileged – Tara goes to a posh school in Kolkata and then to a US college. She’s surrounded by money and yet it all feels pointless to her. Hedon is a story of debauchery, of existential questions, and of pop-culture. But it also talks about that feeling of alienation, the lusciousness of poetry, and just life as it unravels.

Tanya Tania by Antara Ganguly: An epistolary novel by Antara Ganguly, parts of Tanya Tania are set in the early ’90s. Letters fly between Tanya in Pakistan and Tania in Bombay, talking about their lives, school, home, friends and boyfriends. In many ways, the two pen-friends are self-involved, writing more to share, rather than listen. But ultimately, finding comfort in words. And slowly, the letters begin to reflect the political and social tensions in both countries. A coming-of-age book, Tanya Tania is about aspirations, sexuality, class differences, political ideologies and how they impact everyday people, gender differences, and of course, friendships. A heart-wrenching read, Tanya Tania is also a reminder of how two decades on, very little has really changed.

For Tweens

The Boy Who Swallowed a Nail and Other Stories by Lalita Iyer: A fresh voice in kid lit, journalist Lalita Iyer’s memoir is reminiscent of the simplicity and innocence of childhood. Children will fall in love with her quirky family, where one day Appa is pondering about buying a buffalo much to the horror of the children, and on another, Ammini is telling an impressive story about a fart. It’s the little things that count – such as Amma’s habit of washing clothes in every hotel they stayed in during holidays or the description of foods such as aloo parathas with dollops of white butter and dahi. There’s even a recipe for this tomato jaggery chutney by Paatumami. Shamika Kocharekar’s illustrations are as happy as the stories. The tales are almost like sitting at your grandmother’s knees, listening to one anecdote, after another.

Monkey Trouble and Other Grandfather Stories by Ruskin Bond, illustrated by Priya Kurian: There’s always a steady stream of old and new Ruskin Bond stories jostling for space on bookshelves. But now some of these stories have a new avatar with Priya Kurian’s splendid illustrations in the comic book, Monkey Trouble and Other Grandfather Stories. Kurian takes three of Bond’s stories – “Monkey Trouble”, “Eye of the Eagle”, and a “A Special Tree” and renders them in delightful colours. The most memorable one is “A Special Tree”, where a Ruskin Bond like grandpa encourages his grandson to sow a cherry tree seed and together they marvel at its growth through different seasons.

Simply Nanju by Zainab Sulaiman: Life isn’t easy for Nanju – he was born with a spinal problem and is often bullied at school. To make matters worse, Appa is threatening to send Nanju away if his marks don’t improve and someone’s flicking the topper’s notebooks in class, and Nanju is a key suspect. But the boy finds solace in his very smart best friend and plants. Zainab Sulaiman sets her story in a school for the differently-abled, writing about it with sensitivity and masterfully. Simply Nanju is about inclusion, but it’s also about class structures, bullying, and just navigating the bumpy path of school life.

For the younger ones

A Helping Hand by Payal Dhar and illustrated by Vartika Sharma (available on StoryWeaver.org.in): Miss has told “me”, the protagonist of the story, to be the mentor to the new girl in class and show her around. In a series of letters that are never meant to be read, the girl pours her heart out – about her reluctance to befriend the new girl because she’s different. At one point, she writes about a conversation with her older sister. “I told her, ‘There’s a girl in my class and she has a fake hand,’ and she said that the term is ‘prosthetic hand’.” Payal Dhar writes convincingly from the point of view of a child and has shades of empathy, bullying, discrimination, and inclusion. Vartika Sharma’s illustrations are hauntingly beautiful and stark, making the story a memorable one.

Kasturba by Tanaya Vyas: The young Nina is quite an actor. She’s played all sorts of strong female protagonists – from Sita to Razia. But for her next play, Nina’s got the role of Kasturba. She can’t help but wonder about the role, after all she asks herself, Kasturba was only Gandhiji’s wife, wasn’t she? But when Nina starts preparing for the role, she finds out there was more to her than just being a wife.

Thatha at School by Richa Jha and illustrated by Gautam Benegal: Delhi-based Oviyam may just be in second standard but she has a looming black cloud above her head. The school is celebrating their annual Grandparents Day and all grandpas and grandmas are invited. Oviyam’s embarrassed to bring her lungi-clad Thatha, but he’s ever-so excited about it. Richa Jha writes a wonderful, nuanced tale about a child’s relationship with her cherished, if sometimes embarrassing Thatha. Gautam Benegal’s illustrations are spirited and reflect Oviyam’s constantly changing moods perfectly.

The author writes about education for sustainable development, conservation, and food security. She’s the former editor of Time Out Bengaluru

What’s your sustainability quotient?

Posted on by bijalv

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http://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/mumbai/whats-your-sustainability-quotient/article8613855.ece

Last week, an adorable cat meme popped up on my social media timeline. Yes, just one of many adorable memes, gifs, videos that inhabit the Internet. In this one, a mommy cat was cleaning her face with meticulous care, and in the background, her kitten was trying hard to copy her actions, albeit a little clumsily. The meme went on to impart the gyaan that children learn from their parent’s actions. Didn’t really need a copycat to remind us that children — especially babies and toddlers — learn by copying adult behaviour.

But now is a good time to consider our actions as grown-ups, and for some, privileged grown-ups. India is going through a mega water crisis, which as journalist P. Sainath reminds us, is a drought that is not just the product of the failure of monsoon. Our landfills are smoke-belching, bloated trash monsters. According to India Together , the country is chucking out some 36.5 million tonnes of municipal solid waste every year. Temperatures are soaring while the air quality is plummeting, we may as well log onto eBay and start buying bottles of fresh air, along with the cartloads of stuff we are constantly ordering. All swathed in layers of unnecessary plastic and thermocol. We have also earned the dubious distinction of being number 12 in the top 20 countries to dump heaps of plastic into the ocean, according to a study published in the journal Science.

Let’s leave aside what sort of a planet the kids are going to inherit. Instead, think about how our unsustainable (or sustainable) traits can easily pass on to children, along with beaky noses, eye colour and chin clefts. At “The contribution of early childhood education to a sustainable society,” a UNESCO workshop held in 2008, there was “a strong consensus that educating for sustainability should begin very early in life. It is in the early childhood period that children develop their basic values, attitudes, skills, behaviours and habits, which may be long lasting.” The report further elaborated that at a younger age, children pick up “cultural messages about wealth and inequality” and that’s the time to foster values that support sustainable development “e.g. wise use of resources, cultural diversity, gender equality and democracy.”

Take for instance, water. It’s easy enough to get the society secretary to order water tankers when your building is facing water cuts. We pay so little for water that it’s equally convenient to forget that our reckless water consumption in cities adversely impacts people in remote regions and those living around us. When disasters such as droughts occur, children are the most vulnerable to the crisis.

Here’s a quick water audit. When you travel on holidays or even around the city, do you carry refillable bottles of water, or just buy packaged water? Studies have shown that packaged water is often adulterated or misbranded, and there are valid environmental concerns about the procurement of the water. The bottle is just one more bit of plastic to end up in a landfill and the ocean. It’s suddenly a less gargantuan task to carry a bottle of water from home.

The last time I was at a meeting, I was horrified by the number of bottled water that cluttered the conference table, along with laptops, pens, and fresh notepads, that would also be chucked after a doodle, a note or two. We could take a cue from the Nephelai — Greek nymphs who poured water from pitchers to make it rain — and pour ourselves a glass of water from a jug kept on the table.

Perhaps someone in the house leaves the water running in the bathroom or kitchen and then you lecture the kids about saving water? In Sophie Kinsella’s young adult book Finding Audrey , she makes a clever point about the use of technology. While the parents yell at their son for being addicted to a video game, they can’t do without their phones. No surprise then if lectures fall on deaf ears.

Of course, it’s not easy. Sometimes there is no option but to buy bottled water. Never mind that access to clean drinking water is a right, and should not be a commodity. At other times, you’re compelled to; like in theatres that don’t allow you to carry water bottles inside the cinema hall. How do you wash down the over-priced popcorn during the interval? You buy packaged water or a glass of flavoured sugar water. Maybe float yet another petition, this time to the theatres to allow water bottles in, instead of forcing us to buy packaged water?

So then how do we, as grown-ups, step out of our cosseted liminal world clasping our children’s hands? Talk to children about wasteful practices. You will be astounded at how much they already know. Could we perhaps buy less packaged water? Reuse leftover food — wasting food equals wasting water. Car pool instead of taking a massive SUV to drop just one child to school. Hit pause on the endless obsolesce of gadgets and buying shiny new ones, even if the old phone/ tablet/ indoor entertainment gadget is working perfectly fine?

At the same time, instead of playing football on a virtual field, perhaps step out to a park, if you can find one that is. Start a balcony garden? Even our matchbox houses can sustain a window sill one. Grow easy plants such as tomato and herbs that are hard for even the brownest of thumbs and greyest of smogs to kill off. The other day, someone called me and asked, “What is vermicomposting? My child has a project in class.” Possibly a good place to start is by reading up and becoming a “know-it-some” at least. Children have a natural affinity for the environment, but watching grown-ups being callous often transfers the indifferent behaviour onwards.

All this is intuitive and stuff of common sense. You don’t need to read an article to tell you this. But to use a cliché, let’s lead by example. Because even if children’s heads are eclipsed by a screen or they are breathlessly running from one class to another, they are picking up cues from adults. It’s not just Big Brother who is watching us all the time.

The author writes about education for sustainable development, conservation, and food security. She’s the former editor of Time Out Bengaluru