Difference between revisions of "1886"

From PhalkeFactory
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Sadashiv was enraged, he was waving the paper out into the air, but every wave would bring some of the nude female form back to his eyes, he would push it away, again.
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Dhundi stood watching, in a tense silence. Kamala was at the doorway, just behind the curtain. The curtain would blow and hide her face and then suddenly reveal it again.
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"It is art, father", Dhundhi said.
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Sadashiv looked like he was going to tear the paper and fell silent instead, overpowered by the rubbish of that remark.
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"Dhundhi, son, this city has corrupted your young mind, I should have never brought you here. Anyway, it is not late yet. Pack your bags, we are all returning to Trymbak. Tell Kamala she can meet her aunt next time she is here.I don't want any delay"
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"I am not coming, baba, I still have to finish my course. If you want, I will tear this" and Dhundhi did exactly that to the printed piece of pornography that had been found on his shelf. " You will not believe me when I say that to make art, you have to study the human nude, its shape, its proportion, how light falls on it. In our own temples.."
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"You are not coming to Trymbak?"
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Dhundhi shook his head, his father walked out of the room. Dhundhi saw Kamala's shadow make a startled movement behind the curtain as she made way for her angry father-in-law
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Revision as of 12:22, 20 May 2009

While in Bombay, staying with his uncle, Bhalachandra, a railway employee, Dada passes from J.J.School of Arts, marries Maharashtrian girl, Kamala.

Bird vase.jpg

Their classroom is a large stone box, with light sliding in at the windows. He slips onto one of the wooden benches and sits stiff and straight, his back scruplously far from the wooden backrest. Then the white man enters and after a quick smile and some words, begins to teach them. Dhundiraj's feet have already slipped out of their slippers, unaccustomed as he is to wearing them indoors. His big toe brushes against the next ones for reassurance. He cannot understand a thing of what the Englishman is saying. He sees one boy- Parsee, or is he Christian, he is in western clothes- he sees him lean back indolently on that backrest, slide comfortably down on his seat.

White papers are handed to them and they make their first drawing. To Dhundiraj's stupefication, a white object is put against an almost as white background. The Englishman keeps brushing one side of the cone with his woman's hands and saying something. Dhundiraj feels helpless, he cannot a word, he keeps watching the white man's energetic eyes. The teacher then holds up a drawing of the same object with a strange dark patch coloured onto one part of it. Dhundiraj's looks back at the object, but cannot find that shade.

Much later, he will laugh with Kamala about that first day " He wanted us to make him a shadow, and we could not understand! There was so much paper around, that was the first thing I noticed. Much more paper than I had ever seen in my whole life."

But he knew Kamala always wanted to hear another part of the story. She would try and keep her expression unchanging but her eye would brighten as soon as he repeated-

There is a large hall as you enter, and large white marble statues of nude English women with no arms, standing carelessly all around . Just a thin loin cloth on their lower bodies, nothing else. You have to wend your way between those nudes as soon as you come in. You(Kamala) would faint if you had to walk past them, They were beautiful, mind you, they were art. All those English women with no clothes" Kamala would always giggle by the end of his simple pornography.

Dada took a tram every morning, all the way to his art school. The journey was made sweeter since his marriage, everything he saw and did, he recorded and reported every night. The moment he climbed the footboard of the tram and it started wending its way along the roads, he would feel his listener's eyes watching him, he knew she would be waiting to hear what he had to tell. Once he entered gallery of plaster nudes at the art school, and walked past them to his classroom, he would forget all about Kamala.


AphroditeMelos03-l.jpg


Aphrodite.jpg

Mr. Griffith, (the Englishman) was in charge of work of making copies ofAjanta. When the students of J.J. School of Arts went to stay at Ajanta Pithalko had a tradition of art and craft which had flourished since the days of the Shatvahans and was destroyed only in the 13th century.

Phalke's father resigns from his post at Wilson, Elphinstone College, as a protest against teaching Sanskrit to non- Hindus.


... if Mr.Griffith had succeeded in removing the plaster and painting on the walls of Ajanta caves...

In architecture and sculpture, Mr.Griffith had six scholars and five workmen. The details in the new station at B. railway had been entrusted to the students of J.J.School of Arts. "For the new Telegraph Office in Bombay, we have made new designs. Mr. reported that he had succeeded in making glazed pottery which could hold liquids without oozing.


Dhundhi had made friends with Dhurinder, a senior student who often came visiting. With him, he visited the studio of Raja Ravi Varma in . He saw those magnificent pictures which were becoming talk of the town- an Indian who could paint just as well as the white man, with all the white man's rules already in place. With no formal art education. It was incredible. Dhundhi was mesmerised by ( name one painting)

And the milk skinned Maharashtrian girl who was all of them, she was Sita, she was Damayanti, she was..Kamala? Kamala wanted to know more about her. Where did she live? How could he paint a- bad woman. How could he even think of having a relationship with her? Dhundi looked at her affectionately and tried to explain what it meant to have a muse. What it meant to make art. Kamala was angry with how much Dhundi had observed of the quality of that cheap girls' skin.

Sadashiv was enraged, he was waving the paper out into the air, but every wave would bring some of the nude female form back to his eyes, he would push it away, again. Dhundi stood watching, in a tense silence. Kamala was at the doorway, just behind the curtain. The curtain would blow and hide her face and then suddenly reveal it again. "It is art, father", Dhundhi said.

Sadashiv looked like he was going to tear the paper and fell silent instead, overpowered by the rubbish of that remark. "Dhundhi, son, this city has corrupted your young mind, I should have never brought you here. Anyway, it is not late yet. Pack your bags, we are all returning to Trymbak. Tell Kamala she can meet her aunt next time she is here.I don't want any delay"

"I am not coming, baba, I still have to finish my course. If you want, I will tear this" and Dhundhi did exactly that to the printed piece of pornography that had been found on his shelf. " You will not believe me when I say that to make art, you have to study the human nude, its shape, its proportion, how light falls on it. In our own temples.."

"You are not coming to Trymbak?"

Dhundhi shook his head, his father walked out of the room. Dhundhi saw Kamala's shadow make a startled movement behind the curtain as she made way for her angry father-in-law


File:18 February 1882.pdf advertisement The tropical cabriolet, the perfect carriage for hot climates, suspended on Cee Springs, Back of Hood to open for Ventilation. Price complete from 60 gaineas(sic). Rumble seat, fitted if required. Particulars post from the Office of this Paper, or this Manufacturers,67, George Street, London. 18 September, 1886

Indian National Congress, comes into being in Bombay. Dadabhai Naroji elected its first President.


Template:Yearbox Template:C19YearInTopic 1886 (MDCCCLXXXVI) is a common year starting on Friday (click on link to calendar)

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