A Concrete Wasteland?

Naushad’s experience sums up the moot point: How sustainable are these ambitious institutes? To begin with, not many believe the system of giving land for such institutes, either free or subsidised, is completely fair. ‘‘In the field of culture, the word from day one has been private use of public funding,’’ points out Shanta Serbjeet Singh, Director, Asia-Pacific Performing Arts Network. Singh is scathing when she likens the present-day civil servants to the nawabs of yesteryears who would hand out jagirs to their favourite performers. Vocalist Parveen Sultana agrees, ‘‘The awards, the land, all of it goes to a handful of artists. Why can’t it be given without lobbying with bureaucrats, on the basis of merit?’’ she asks.

Others point out that most senior artists who set up such institutes are in their 80s and spend many months of the year abroad. ‘‘Do they have the energy and time to run such grand academies?’’ asks Mumbai-based music critic and convener of Kala Bharati, P G Burde, sceptically.

Pandit Ravi Shankar and Hari Prasad Chaurasia seem to think so. The sitar maestro recently inaugurated The Ravi Shankar Foundation in a small ceremony attended by close friends and disciples in Chanakyapuri, New Delhi. The 25,000 square feet building which will focus on archiving the works of Ravi Shankar, was bought from the government at a concessional rate five years ago. ‘‘Things have been difficult for us as we live abroad for a large part of the year. We have spent Rs 5.2 crore on raising the structure so far but Panditji has not taken a penny from the government,’’ his wife Sukanya is quick to point out.

Sceptics worry about its survival, considering Ravi Shankar’s track record of running institutions has not been all that good. Three of his earlier schools — Kinnari in Mumbai, Kinnari in Los Angeles and the Ravi Shankar Institute for Music and Performing Arts at Benaras — shut down soon after being set up.

Chaurasia’s Vrindavan Charitable Trust, meanwhile, is going to be inaugurated on August 30 this year. ‘‘He received this land on the Versova-Juhu Link road from Rajiv Gandhi,’’ says daughter-in-law Kasturi Chaurasia. ‘‘The institute is finally ready, in spite of all the obstacles ranging from marshy soil and lack of funds to opposition from the Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation, which objected to construction because of the plot’s proximity to the sea,’’ she sighs.

Mumbai-based Bharata Natyam exponent Guru Mani is as confident that his three-acre Chintamani Ashram, a dance, music and arts complex at Titwala, 65 kms from Mumbai, will flourish under his watchful eye. ‘‘We need another Rs 1.5 crore to complete the ashram. We have been asking various state governments for funding,’’ he says. While admitting that there have been questions on how he would sustain such a large campus, he says, ‘‘The institute is our passion and we will survive. My whole family will chip in.’’

However, there are artists who have nothing to show despite land being given to them decades ago. Ustad Amjad Ali Khan, Debu Choudhury and Sonal Mansingh have been sitting on barren sarkari plots for years. As an inside source in the music community reveals, sarod maestro Amjad Ali Khan has done nothing despite organising a series of concerts as early as the ‘70s, to raise funds for the new institute. Sitarist Debu Choudhury’s son Prateek admits his father’s land in Jasola, Delhi, given three years ago, still lies vacant. And Odissi dancer Sonal Mansingh even tried returning the 17,000 sq metres of land the government had given her in the early ’90s. ‘‘I couldn’t manage the maintenance. But the board wouldn’t let me return the land,’’ she says. She is now hopeful that the construction will begin in the next three-four months.

Meanwhile, classical dancer and actress Hema Malini has other problems to contend with. The 1,700 sq metres of land the state government gave her four years ago is actually Central Government property. ‘‘We haven’t been able to construct even a single pillar and are running everywhere trying to get permission to start the school that will teach all the major classical dances,’’ says her secretary Markhand A Mehta.

Those who deliberately chose not to take favours from the government have not had it easy either. Pandit Shiv Kumar Sharma was cheated by his real estate agent when he bought a huge piece of land in the outskirts of Mumbai. ‘‘It was a great loss for Sharmaji and he never gathered the courage to start such an institution again,’’ says his biographer Ina Puri.

And what has been the fate of the older institutes? Rukmini Arundale’s Kalakshetra, set up in 1936, no longer attracts great dancers as teachers and each year sees departments shrinking and fewer students enrolling into the school. The Gandharva Mahavidyalaya in Delhi, which began in the early ’70s, is collapsing under its own pressure. ‘‘It has not turned out a single performing artist,’’ asserts Burde. Madhup Mudgal, who took over the four-storeyed institute from his father Vinay Chandra Maudglaya in 1995, admits that running an institute is difficult. ‘‘I just can’t seem to recruit new teachers,’’ he says.

Unfazed by the problems his contemporaries face, Pandit Vishwa Mohan Bhatt however, continues to plan for his institute. Clutching on to a vague promise of land by the Rajasthan government, he hopes that it will become a reality soon. ‘‘I know that my sons Saurabh and Salil will be able to run it well. I will be travelling a lot but my absence won’t matter because they are there,’’ says.