No dearth of talent, no place for art

If you thirst for good theatre, a painting exhibition, or classical music where’s the watering hole in Indirapuram? There’s none. And yet, this enclave has no dearth of fine singers, painters and actors.
Their talents are on display at Durga Puja soirees and at stray neighbourhood dos, many among those singing or giving a dance recital at a Puja venue aren’t from Bengal.It’s an eclectic mix, mostly company executives, mothers and students who rush to office or college in the mornings or, grimy-eyed, hustle their little ones to the society gate to catch the school bus. Having sampled such soirees, I can vouch that most among them are competent performers caught in the whirlpool of everyday life. They are private people who squeeze time from the daily grind to keep their passions alive. Wish they got a stage, an auditorium to showcase what they are genuinely good at.
I know of one homemaker who as a youngster in her hometown of Jamshedpur dreamt of blossoming as a Hindustani classical singer. Looking for a teacher who’d guide her on her way to becoming one, she fetched up in the nearest metropolis — Kolkata, where she found a master and mentor. Then marriage happened. Indirapuram happened. Two children happened.
Passion took a back seat. She got boxed into a sedate life where her interests got subsumed as she struggled and juggled with the needs of her demanding children and husband. Still, on lonely afternoons with children and husband away, she’d dust her tanpura, box its ears to tune and immerse in an afternoon raga. A soulful melody would fill the room and she’d lose track of time. Then the maid would sound a jarring note, ring the bell, stomp into the house and start doing the dishes, clanging, banging, raising a din in which the raga would get lost forever.
This continued for years, till she found a music school in the neighbourhood and joined. Today, her singing has improved many notches, but she yearns to test her skills on stage. Doing so in Delhi isn’t easy and she’d much rather have preferred a venue near home. But there isn’t any. Recently, she had to make do with performing at a programme her singing school hosted at a park. It was noisy, sweaty, the sound system was erratic. Halfway through a raga, musicians accompanying her realized their microphones had failed and she had to stop abruptly. It was embarrassing. She has sworn never to go on stage anywhere in Indirapuram again unless the town gets a proper auditorium.
She’s one type. This township has many others who find no sense in doing the round of malls every weekend. They find the sameness of the shops, the display windows, the décor, and even the people revolting. Foodies keep going back to the same restaurants, the same menu cards, the same buffets. One neighbour said he found the weekends a groan. “I walked into a cinema for a matinee show of a recent Hollywood Sci-fi and they told me they were screening the Hindi version.” Put off, he walked into a nearby idli-dosa joint, stuffed his face, drank a cup of sweet, black coffee, came home, downed two stiff pegs and hit the sack. “Next day at 8 I was behind the wheel, bag, laptop, water bottle and lunch box on the back seat, driving to work.”
Indirapuram isn’t a town of the brain dead. Many, many well-read, intelligent professionals have made this place their home. Living to them goes far beyond just eating, drinking and going to work. They need food for the soul, space to give their creativity vent. And, it isn’t always possible taking the metro to Delhi or driving to Kamani Auditorium or Habitat Centre, where the culture crowd normally mingles. We demand a place of our own. Will the Ghaziabad Development Authority give us one? Frankly, it’s hard to imagine them doing citizens this good turn. Let’s build ourselves one. How about the RWAs kicking in with their power to organize a citizens’ initiative?