Patterns of India's mosaic

The Crafts Fair at Surajkund showcases different aspects of our social and cultural heritage. It can, perhaps, be called an emotionally integrating fair.

THIS is sanity. A few hours ago we drove out of Delhi, raspy with petro-chemical fog, and yowling VIPs with their obtrusively blinking lights, into this quiet and manicured wilderness. Raja Suraj Pal, of the Tomar clan, came here in the 10th Century, bathed in the pool of the Sun, the suraj kund, and was cured of his skin disease. The poor man had, probably, broken out in an allergic rash due to the stress of kingship. In all likelihood, the serenity of this green place de-stressed him as much as his bath had.

It is certainly very peaceful here. All we can hear from our room in this landscaped tourist complex is faint and distant music as a giant Ferris Wheel turns at the far edge of the grounds of the Crafts Fair. We have not come here for the dizzying turns of the wheel. There are enough life-threatening challenges in our professional lives: we do not need to risk our necks for an adrenalin rush. We have come to the Crafts Mela to meet the artisans and holiday makers of our land in a safe, clean, festive environment.

It is 11 at night, a lapwing has just called from the edge of the lake, and the music and the Ferris Wheel have stopped. We are looking forward to tomorrow.

* * *

We are back and it has been as exhilarating day. One of the nice things about being a travel writer is that you can enjoy yourself and still feel you have put in a good day's work!

This year's theme State was Goa. We entered through their gate which captured the curling waves and sun and beaches of this joyful place. Under the thatched stalls, dotted in the thorn-tree grove, visitors shopped for Goan shell-craft, pottery and... theoretically, only theoretically... the heady spirit of Goa: feni. Sadly, all the bottles were empty. Nevertheless, it did bring home the message that there are as many acceptable lifestyles in our bright Indian mosaic as there are communities.

Goa, however, was only the theme State: many other States were represented. We browsed around the stalls of willow weavers from Kashmir, leather puppet makers from Andhra, stone carvers from Tamil Nadu, miniaturists from Rajasthan and lace crafters from at least three other States. As the day progressed, more and still more visitors filled the fair and there was even a contingent of red-suited earthquake rescuers from Switzerland. In spite of the swelling crowds, however, there was a remarkable absence of indiscipline and the sort of rowdiness often associated with such occasions, particularly in northern India.

The fair organisers had hired 110 personnel, from the reputed Hindustan Security, who came with their sniffer dogs. Hygiene, which was immaculate, had been entrusted to the specialists of Sulabh International. Fair officials were in constant touch with each other using 25 walkie-talkies hired for the occasion from Motorola. Clearly, Haryana Tourism had decided that if a fair was worth running it was worth hiring the best professionals in the business.

Though the stall-holders were largely, also handicraft artisans (many were award-winnners) there were many other professionals to keep visitors enthralled. Stilt walkers and horse-dancers entertained the crowd; a group of college girls from Delhi had their hands painted with intricate designs in henna; and both children and adults could not resist the trundled metal box of a peep-show.

Naturally, there was a profusion of snack stalls, and though most of them featured food from the northern States, we did taste some acceptable southern fare. All food sold in the fair was strictly vegetarian and though the gourmet would have balked at vegetarian mo-mos, we did have the choice of savouring authentic non-veg Goan food just outside the fair grounds.

It was an option, however, that we could not exercise: all the tables in the restaurant were occupied whenever we tried to find a place. Clearly Goan food was a hot favourite, quite literally, with the fair's visitors.

So, too, were the Goan dances performed both in the day in the simulated village square and on an illuminated state at night. A Sikh family sitting behind us remarked: "Arre! They look just like us; they even wear turbans, pyjamas and waistcoats. What a wonderful thing!"

This, of course, is the greatest virtue of the Crafts Mela: this realisation that, in the midst of our diversities, there are surprising similarities; as indeed, in our apparent similarities, there are amazing diversities. It would be wonderful if the fair lasted all through the year, showcasing different aspects of our social and cultural heritage every month. But though that would place Haryana permanently on the international tourist map, it would be far too expensive an undertaking for a cash-strapped State to undertake. It has, however, done the next best thing.

Walking around the fair, we paused frequently to admire the many permanent gates set up by the theme States of past fairs. There was the wooden Kashmiri gate built like a sufi mystic's tomb: so delicate that it had been fenced in. Gujarat had replicated the entrance to one of its community dwellings, the famed pols of Ahmedabad. West Bengal had built its gate in the style of its decorated terracotta monuments in Vishnupur. And there were so many others that we realised that the fair grounds had already become a wonderful open-air museum of the varied architectural idioms or the multicultural, multi-ethnic heritage of our land. Most importantly, it showed that those ancient skills had still been preserved.

The most impressive gate was the one build by the tribal artisans of Bastar. It showed their mother goddess, Dantishwari, riding a tiger and guarded by her retinue of buffalo-horned lesser gods and goddesses. It was 10 m high and made entirely of metal. Given the tools these artisans had, is this achievement any less than that of our IT whizzes?

In these painfully divisive times, every Indian needs such insights given by this emotionally integrating fair.

HUGH and COLLEEN GANTZER

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