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They say; ‘great minds think alike.’ Recently, this became obvious, while I was reading a comparative study about famed artists Henri Matisse and Pablo Picasso’s paintings and sculptures, which were created in 1906.

Matisse and Picasso had many common elements. Both artists were like opposites in every possible way, yet, they bonded with their artistic sensibilities, which was a mixture of friendship and competition. According to their patrons Leo and Gertrude Stein, together they blazed a trail leading towards modern art, while breaking down boundaries between sculpture, painting, drawings, graphic arts and leading, the arts towards total artistic freedom.

Their work shows many common themes which run in parallels. Both artists are known to have been deeply involved with cubism and fauvism. Their styles and colours come through in their work with tremendous variations, connected somewhere or other with a surprising common link. There may be some differences here and there, yet the strain is the same in colour application and the use of volume in their forms. For example, if one sees Picasso’s fascination for the guitar, Matisse painted the violin. If Matisse was photographed with a dove on his shoulder, Picasso had an owl perched on his arm. Matisse can be identified by bright pinks, while Picasso is known for his blues. The human figure is a common thread between their works, as it can be seen as a tree or a cathedral. The sitting woman with hands raised and the reclining figure or the Odalisque appears repeatedly in the works of both artists. Often, the human figures moves with a certain serpentine grace, even if a slight difference is seen in Picasso’s human figures, as he was impressed by African masks. Picasso painted the human face like a mask or slashed the human figure with brutal angular brush strokes. But, in Matisse’s work, there was more detail and loving colour application, yet the portrait as a cube, appears with variations in the works of both artists.

When one looks at the paintings of Matisse, we tend to focus on his bright colours and floral-Persian-carpet backgrounds.

Fauvism was a word coined by an art critic for Matisse, who attacked the artist, saying that the bright colours used by him and other artists were wild, meaning ‘fauve’ in French.

Today there are no such reservations in the arts, thanks to Matisse and Picasso, as the wilder the better.

In the same context, the cube as a geometric volume appears often in the sculptures of Matisse.

In the history of sculpture, his work is of great importance, as Matisse stands apart with his sculpture of a woman’s back, which resembles a tree trunk. Together, when one views the sculptures of Matisse and Picasso, surprisingly, one cannot tell Matisse apart. He sculpts his heads by cutting them into leaf like cubes; an extraordinary exercise in cubism, the difference between the two appears to be subtle, because Picasso’s heads have a heavier organic quality.  But, both artists use the human figure like a cut-out, almost like a strong silhouette emerging from a wall. The sculpted limbs, stretch, move, turn inwards, reach the sky, dance or turn somersaults.

While, the dancers painted by Matisse move in entwined circles, while Picasso’s dancers have an edgy upwards movement. Even in matters of materials, Matisse preferred collages and Picasso painted or twisted paper or metal sheets  into dancers, creating his famous Minotaur’s’ or half human-half animal forms.

Both artists explored various themes with the utmost simplicity, like the reclining figure, the standing figure, bathers on a seashore or melancholic dreamers.

They look like forms, as seen from a distance, composed within interiors with floral background, which have paintings, collages, sculptures; all created with a brilliant use fauvism and cubism. 

To study these great artists was an exciting journey into the language of the human figure, as revealed by Matisse and Picasso, because; ‘great minds think alike.’

During these difficult times during Covid-19  and the ensuing total lock-down in India, while staying at home, bird watching was not on my my list, to go through the day. But, since the lock-down, my mornings have changed, as I hear bird songs, which gives a good start to the day. Suddenly, with the absence of human beings and rumble of vehicles, if one can turn a deaf ear to the barking of stay dogs and see the birds around you, it will bring you closer to nature. These birds around your homes or housing societies are becoming daring and unafraid of coming closer to us. If you look  carefully and listen to their calls, you will see that they are all over the place. Even, as squirrels are boldly running around and giving final touches to their nests in secret corners; which are woven with spun strings, shredded textiles, pieces of cotton, moss, dry grass and fibrous strings.   

The other day, a Sun Bird flew into my ground floor apartment as the door was open, then feeling rather confused, it made an U-turn and flew away. The other day, a friend told me, that Babblers are out-numbering Pigeons around her housing society. Crows, Pigeons, Swallows are also seen, as Babblers fly around in groups or have a leisurely sand-bath in a children’s play ground. And, when she is in the kitchen; making her first cup of coffee, a pair of Swallows fearlessly sits on the rim of her kitchen-window-sill or knock on the window panes with their beaks and make her smile. While, behind her apartment building, there is an unused green zone, which gives a pleasant view from her balcony, as a flock of Black Ibis roost there on a tree. From here, she watches the Ibis and many other birds flying amidst the foliage or nesting in the trees. The closeness between wild life and us humans; is increasing. 

To continue the bird story, last week, a young friend living in a tenement; opened her front door and saw a sparrow. Excitedly, she called; ‘I just saw a sparrow,’ as she believes, sparrows are an endangered species. She quickly closed the door, so as not to frighten the bird, as it was perched on a branch of the mogra creeper; she had planted next to the main door. Since then, every morning, she leaves bowls of grains and water for the sparrow, so that it continues to visit her and eventually feels inspired to make a nest in the foliage of the fragrant mogra creeper. 

I spend my mornings watching the aerial gliding of Sun-birds, along with Bulbuls, Robins, Mynahs, Babblers, Flower-peckers and if you are lucky, you could also see a stray Egret or Starling. Since the Lock-Down, in this still-silence around me, I can hear the distant cries of a Kingfisher, Coppersmith, Koel and Peafowl, as Kites and Falcons patrol the skies, while looking for a prey, down below on earth. 

Every morning, I study a flowering bush, close to my bedroom window, as I disturb a few butterflies, flitting over the flower-beds. As, they disappear, I look for the nest, a pair of Tailor-Birds are making in one of the broad leafed plants, stitching the leaves into a cozy nest for their brood. And, to add colour to our surroundings, during the sleepy mid-afternoon hours, a flock of wild Indian Parrots arrive to perch on a young Neem tree, chattering away, maybe about the sudden silence zone, which has descended upon a world, predominantly inhabited by human beings. I try to decipher the hidden meaning of these bird songs, as we have a lot to learn from nature…because as they say ‘Nature is a great educator…’   

If you try gardening, you will notice that nature has her own method of functioning. Try as you may, you cannot dictate terms to her and she will grow exactly as she wants to. With every passing day, one can learn something new from nature. As we experienced, some lessons are learnt the hard way. For example, one should never cut down a tree or plant and expect another to grow in the same place all over again. This is exactly what happened to our curry-patta plant. 

After we cut down the first one for unknown reasons, year after year we tried planting some more saplings in the same place. Like a curse, this patch of earth became barren, while the mogra nearby had a luxuriant growth. 

After many useless efforts, we abandoned this patch as a possible location for the new currypatta tree. We planted a young sapling in another place. To our relief it started growing faster than we expected. When the tree reached our shoulders, we plucked its leaves with a sense of achievement. But, there was something lacking. It lacked that special tadka-fragrance. The mali from the nursery was sent for to confirm whether it was a curry-patta tree or some other plant. He crushed a leaf and breathing deep into it proclaimed that it was an original. Nevertheless, he was surprised that the leaves did not have the fragrance of curries. 

The following monsoon we bought another curry-patta with a guaranty. We planted it next to the one without fragrance, assuming the land was fertile there. The new curry-patta also shot up in a year. We were tense and afraid to pluck the leaves. What, if this one also did not have a fragrance? Luckily this one had a strong curry flavour. 

The mali informed us that it was a female tree, because she had flowers. He insisted that the one without fragrance was a male. 

To grow, apparently they needed each other. When planted together, they had struck the perfect balance. If marriages are made in heaven, this was it. 

We also had a similar experience with the Champa. An ancient tree suffocating under a canopy of trees refused to bloom. But, a Champa which peeped over our garden wall was always laden with fragrant white flowers. Every morning this tree sprinkled her flowers on our lawn. These were collected and arranged around the house in bowls of water. 

During monsoon we repeated the curry-patta experiment. We planted a young champa close to the wall. The method worked. In a few months, we noticed the young Champa had grown and blossomed. By next year this plant should be standing shoulder to shoulder with the Champa next door. Here, the plot thickens, as it is hard to figure out the male from the female as both have a luxuriant growth. 

If you are interested in gardening, you must have noticed many such miracles of nature. The effect of the sun, moon, seasons, hours of the day, growing, fading, falling, flowering and growth, everything in nature is connected to each other in some way or other.

Can music empower women, heal them and awaken them?

Yes.

These were my first thoughts, as I watched the Gujarati film ‘Hellaro’ by Abhishek Shah and his team. Truthfully, the poster attracted me and I went to see the garba sequences. As, I watched the film, I got trapped into the waft and weave of womens empowerment; with the resounding rhythm of the dhol, which awaken an entire community of suppressed women. The beats of the dhol also tell us the untold story of the agonized drummer. The film, based on folklore, begins with the symbolic use of a sword-dance is performed only by men; as the women stay indoors. The sword becomes a metaphor of a patriarchal society, which is a way of life in a far away village of Kutch. Late at night, the men perform the vigorous sword-dance to evoke the Mother Goddess, as rains have eluded this region for the past three years. The women stay indoors, suffocating under rules and regulations; laid down by men. These men worship the Mother Goddess-who also happens to be a woman, but they treat their own women as objects of lust and violence in a decadent society. The situation changes with the arrival of the new bride Manjhrii. Slowly, the women are empowered, as the wave of change comes in the most unexpected manner. The only respite these women have from their dark world is when every morning, they carry headloads of brass pots to fill water from a lake; farway from their village. At the lake, they breathe; the air of freedom, even if it is for a short time. On one such day, they see a man, sprawled in the desert, dying of thirst. Manjhri breaks all rules, offers him water and revives him. He is carrying a dhol, as he is a drummer and as a gesture of gratitude, respectfully; stands with his back to them; playing the dhol for them and the women cannot control their desire to dance. Suddenly with beats of the dhol; they feel unshackled and their garba becomes a spontaneous act of freedom. Walking long distances in the desert to get water is no longer an ardous task. As, every day, when the women leave the village to fill watter, they look forward to the moment, when they can smile, laugh, chat, sing and dance with gay abandon, enjoying a short but precious moment of happiness. These are some metaphors, which become symbolic of freedom. This is also the beginning of protest against a male dominated society. The reverberating beats of the dhol inspires the women. It also inspires young women viewers like my niece Dhara, who said, ‘Actually, the real protagonist of this film is the garba.’ With the mere act of dancing, the women cross swords with a male dominated society, which has so far suppressed their voice, their expression and their very existence. It infuses in them; a desire to break all barriers under Manjhri’s leadership. Her eyes speak volumes about womens lives and their need to express themselves through garba. If the men perform an aggressive sword-dance; late at night, in contrast the women dance under the scorching sun, in the stark desert-land of Kutch. Dressed in colourful clothes and swirling gracefully, they remain untouched by the blistering hot sands of the desert. They bond into a chain, which eventually leads them into a direct confrontation with the men. The only man, who wordlessly supports them, according to Manjhri, is a man with the soul of a woman, which is the Mukhi’s son. I was mesmerized, as there was nothing artificial in the film, be it the set, the bhunga, the village, costumes, embroidery, interiors, jewelry and the women themselves. I felt, I was in a real village of Kutch with real people and I was part of their lives….

Come, what may; when they dance; the earth, trembles with their united power and strength, as they are determined to break all shackles. They are no longer birds with clipped wings, as their colourful saris grow wings and they are about to fly away… 

( article appeared in Times of India, Kochi edition 31^st August 2019)

On Friday, before Sara Cohen could light the shabath candles; and before Monday, when the call of Selihot, for festivities of the Jewish festivities begin on Monday, Sara; one of the last few Pardesi Jews of Kochi, closed her eyes and left for her heavenly abode at 96. She will be laid to rest at the cemetery near the synagogue at Mattancherry.

Sara was married to Jacob Cohen and became synomimus with Cochin Jews, as Sara was a living legend. Prof. Shalva Weil, senior researcher, RIFIE, Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Israel; who has extensively researched Indian Jews, writes – “Sad. I knew her for 40 years. Everyone loved her. She was dearly looked after by Muslim caretaker for many years now. He expanded her embroidery cottage industry. There is no visitor to Cochin who didn’t pop in to buy a challah-cover (shababth-bread cover) or a kippa (yarmulke).”

A year back, when I was in Kochi, at Jew Town, Synagogue Street, Kochi, amidst spice shops, antique warehouses, old Jewish homes with railings and grilled windows with the Star of David, I saw Sara Cohen, one of the oldest Jews of this small community of Cochin Jews; sitting at the window of her home, watching tourists, as her craftsperson Celine embroidered ceremonial hamotsi covers, kippas, Jewish sacred textiles trimmed with lace borders and other ritualistic objects, which were on display in the foyer. Thaha, Sara’s caretaker and Man Friday was looking after Sara’s Embroidery shop in the hall of her house. He became part of her life, like a family member as outside her window with the grill of the Star of David, his uncle sold post cards.

He started helping her and set up the sales-center, which resembles a museum. It preserves the rich heritage and essence of a Jewish home, as it gives a rare insight into Jewish life, with Sara’s artifacts and a few black and white photographs of her family. Sitting at the window, as Sarah chants Hebrew prayers and keeps a watch on her kitchen, as her cook makes traditional Jewish dishes, which she had taught her, when she was in good health. Earlier, I had met Thoufeek Zakariya from Kochi, a chef by profession, who is also known for Hebrew calligraphy, which he learnt, as he often visited Sara Cohen, because, he lived in Jew Street at Fort Kochi, near the Pardesi Synagogue. Thoufeek had shown me the recipe of ‘pastel,’ shot on his cell-phone in Sara Cohen’s kitchen as he had grown up near her house. It is said; she also relished Kerala dishes, dhosa, idli, the Jewish chalalh bread and other dishes made by Cochin Jews.

Sara’s endeavour in the area of ceremonial Jewish embroidery began in 1984, when she started making kippas in satin and embroidering them, along with other textiles used for Jewish festivals. She also made runners for dining tables, handkerchiefs, asked some crafts-people to make coconut shell goblets, cups, hannukah candle stands, menorah-stands, mini-wood-toys of animals, as her multi-coloured kippas in shimmering satin or velvet, were displayed beautifully on a tree-shaped-stand. The kippas were known as “Souvenirs of the Past.” It was a favourite shopping destination for most tourists. She was inclusive of everybody she met; and this is seen in her embroidery of the map of India.   

Sara preferred hand embroidered textiles. I noticed her craftsperson Celine embroidering these textiles, as Sara sat nearby; looking out of the window. In this room, there was a bedstead with a portrait of Sara wearing her late husband’s bright pink kippa, along with a poster of Prophet Moses with the plaque of the Ten Commandements.

As I think of Sara, I feel, it is the end of an era, which was a part of the history of India.

Respected Gandhiji, I am writing this letter to you with great sorrow, as the other day, I was passing by Gandhi Bridge, where your statue has been standing since 1969. It was made by famed sculptor late Kanti Patel, who is known for his expertise at making your statues. His studio in Ahmedabad hidden in a chikoo-wadi with flocks of Peacocks, has innumerable plaster casts and moulds in all sizes. There is one particular sculpture was done; with a live sitting given by  Mahatma Gandhi to Kantibhai. 

And, as I said, when I was on Ashram road, I could not see your statue, immediately. Of course, I have been reading in the newspapers about the dilemma of the civic authorities, as they do not know which would be the perfect place to relocate you. Anyway, as my auto-rickshaw stopped to turn towards Gujarat Vidyapeeth, I saw your statue. I could see that the Ashram Road flyover was flying over you. Actually, very close to your head. Maybe, it could hurt you. Till the time, a decision is taken, as you stand there, your thoughts about peace, will be disturbed by the incessant rumble of vehicles. 

I started wondering; are people aware that this particular statue is yours? Or do they assume, you are one of those many unnamed national leaders, who have been standing there, for ages or do they know who you are – The Father of the nation or The Father of the freedom movement.

Today, we have so much freedom that we may have forgotten you and do not know what to do with you.

I am writing this, as I have doubts, if people recognize Indulal Yagnik’s statue, standing on a rock on the eastern side of Nehru Bridge is also sculpted by Kanti Patel.

Public art has always been a major issue in Ahmedabad. At, most crossroads of the city, we have either national leaders or sculptures, which are sponsored by well known companies or there are forms, like a kettle or a kumbh or a flame.  These are not works of great art; the sponsors grow a lot of green around the traffic circle, even if the sculpted-form are not visually appealing.

I feel, in the case of national leaders, some artists need to study anatomy, before making statues for public places. And, there should be a committee of aesthetic consultants, to decide about form, subject, size, material and colour. If not, these forms give a wrong message about art to the general public.

At the end, I feel, if this how, they are going to leave you or shift you to Vadaj crossroads or no-where, I have come to the conclusion that, we have forgotten you. With my heartfelt respects, yours truly…

(P.S. Maybe, you will be happier, if they give you a place, where you belong – Gandhi Ashram) 

Come winter and Ahmedabad comes alive with myriad cultural activities. Interestingly, come sun or rain, the city is quite abuzz with art fairs and exhibitions, film festivals, and more. Author and artist Esther David says, “Till the ’80s, Ahmedabad had a very small cultural scene limited to old-timers and a few families, but today, there is a new Ahmedabad, along with new arrivals to the city, who have made it their home. These groups are often conditioned to the arts, folk arts, crafts, and fashion. Additionally, women are at the forefront of many cultural activities, as they travel and collect information. Often, they are students of our well-known design or management educational institutes, have studied abroad, or have returned to live in the city, giving form to their knowledge. They are well-dressed, professional, articulate, and clear about their aims for future events. This new vision and desire to give a new platform to the arts has overtaken the cultural fabric of the city and created a magnificent tapestry, which shows the path towards a rich cultural heritage for future generations. Ahmedabad has become a ‘Sanskar Nagari’ of sorts; earlier, Vadodara was known as the center of art and culture in the state. Ahmedabadis have also become globe-trotters, affecting the city’s cultural scene positively.”

How has this turned out for stakeholders?

David replies, “It is very helpful to artists of all disciplines as they are in demand and can make a living as freelancers. Earlier it was impossible to get an audience for an exhibition or event, to even invite a corporate buyer, or to convince someone to sponsor an art event. But today, at some institutes, studios are available for artists or there is space for budding poets and young writers to exchange notes about their latest work. A number of galleries and auditoriums have emerged in the city, where large audiences spend pleasant evenings discovering new idioms of artistic expression. And most are paid shows; earlier, people asked each other for free passes!”

With the opportunities for artists to reach out to a greater audience, many of whom might not be fully conditioned to the arts, David feels, “Over-exposure can give way to mediocrity, which is why art pieces should be chosen with care and full understanding of the subjects projected for audiences.” She adds, “In the desire to usher in a new wave in art and culture, often there is a confusion and mix-up of genres for the discerning viewer. As such, it is important for artists and curators to be open to critical appreciation or discussion if a knowledgeable person points out some aspects about the creative process and the final creation. Yes, finding a market is definitely important, but so is the creative language of the artist, so that a particular work of art survives time.”

(This article appeared in Femina Gujarat for their Anniversary Issue – Big Story- April 2019)

I read about the fire at the cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris with a feeling of personal loss. Long back, in the early nineties, I had seen it for the first time, almost every day, as the bus I took, went past a bridge on the River Seine. I always chose a seat from where I could see the Notre Dame. Its architecture is such that, it appears to stand on a triangular island, with its spire, the flying buttresses and the stained glass windows. From a distance, it feels familiar, like the images described in the English translations of the novel by Alexander Dumas – ‘The Hunchback of Notre Dame.’ In my teens, the film based on the book scared me; with its images of Chimeras, Strix and Gargoyles looking down from the parapets, corridors and water-sprouts; sculpted on the upper sections of the cathedral, seemed to come alive.

So, when I saw the fires of Notre Dame, reducing it to mere armature, I was aghast, thinking of the transient nature of life. It takes years to build a cathedral like Notre Dame and a just a few hours to reduce it to dust.

A large plaza faces the cathedral, as devotees enter, holding candles with piety; amidst the crowds of tourists.

When, I entered the arched doorway, which has relief sculptures of “The Last Judgment,” along with the story of the Genesis, with tall elongated figures of the apostles, fully draped, over-looking the river and in complete harmony with the cathedral. These figures are sculpted taller than the normal length of a human body, as according to sculptural techniques, human figures appear to have a normal size, when seen from a distance. To add, the cathedral has very few nude figures, except for Adam and Eve, which are covered with creepers, like Adam has a fig-leaf and Eve is draped in her own long hair.

Having seen the Notre Dame, at day or night; was an over-powering experience with its impressive architecture. It looked different from the outside; while inside the cathedral, there was a different atmosphere, which was charged with beauty and spirituality.

It was fascinating that the outside did not give away; the inner beauty, which was in total contrast to the façade and other sides, with their flying buttresses and ribbed vaults, which gave height to the cathedral. This was to become the signature style of Gothic architecture, along with; its elongated sculptures and stained glass windows. All these elements along with the spire appeared to touch the sky and infinity.

Today, after the fire, it somehow; gives hope; that one day, Notre Dame will stand all over again.

At Notre Dame, both worshippers and tourists enter another world as they feel enveloped in an ethereal light. For those, who have experienced this light, it never leaves their aesthetic sensibilities, as light fills the entire space of the cathedral.

And, about light…I saw the Notre Dame in the early nineties. Till then, I had been teaching History of Art at design schools of Ahmedabad; India, and often showed slides of stained glass windows of Notre Dame. But, while teaching art in India, the stained glass windows looked like bright circles of colour in slides and art-films.

Everything changed, when I entered the Notre Dame de Paris, I was engulfed in its spiritual glow.

Rose windows are very much part of Christian art, which started as a small rose, which first appeared in Romanesque art, embedded with  coloured glass and then became an enormous rose, which filled the walls of Gothic cathedrals with colour and light. Stained glass is a typical artistic genre of Gothic cathedrals of France and other European countries, as coloured glass pieces are held in place with metal armatures. The colour, compositions and figures are decided in advance, through a series of working drawings and sketches, which I had seen in a workshop near the cathedral of Chartres, near Paris.

After which, they are affixed on the inner walls of the cathedral and since these survived the fire, they are sturdy and will survive – Time.

The rose petals have innumerable figurative narratives, like the apostles and the center, almost always depicts an important incident from the life of Jesus Christ, like the nativity, relevant happenings and miracles.

The central rectangular space, facing the altar is made in painted wood in muted colours, embellished with gold, which resemble Russian Iconic art, as it unfolds the story of the birth of Jesus Christ.

Near the altar, there is a sculpture of Mother Mary wearing a crown of jewels. And, at the altar, there is a Cross is set against the background of a rose window and another magnificent sculpture by Nicholas Coustou. It shows Mother Mary looking down upon Jesus Christ wearing a crown of thorns and has just been brought down from the cross and placed on her lap, as great sorrow is writ large upon her delicate features. This marble sculpture has a certain resemblance to Michelangelo’s ‘Pieta,’ as it looks more delicate and fragile.

The anterooms of the cathedral have exhibition areas, where one can see the magnificent robes worn by priests, bishops, kings, displayed along with glass cases of gems, jeweled crowns, the crown of thorns and the Bible in various sizes from small to big, embellished with jewels and intricate artistic calligraphy. These illuminated Manuscripts of the Bible were decorated by the greatest artisans of the 12^th Century; when Notre Dame was constructed. On the sides there are elevators, which take visitors to the top parapets to have a grand-stand view of the city of Paris.

The light within the Notre Dame had fascinated me; with its unforgettable aura, Besides, that, the inner spaces of the cathedral are enveloped in a meditative silence, which were sometimes broken; when the bells toll or you hear the midnight mass at the end of the year.

Otherwise, worshippers are seen in the inner sanctum-sanctorum, whispering prayes, lighting tall candles, as slowly the clouds disperse and a ray of sunlight changes direction. A thousand candles glow inside the cathedral, as the ray of light enters from one of the petals of the rose-shaped stained glass windows and the sun, softly enters the cathedral of Notre Dame, flooding it with light, that there are no words to describe its beauty, as it transformed it; with a heavenly divine glow.

It was in Imphal, Manipur that I discovered Mother-Market or Ema-Market, which is run by women. There are two main markets opposite each other in huge sprawling buildings, which also have places of worship, like a clay-plastered temples of Radha-Krishna and some other gods of the Hindu pantheon. Here, the women-vendors sit in rows with their ware, like food, bamboo and textiles. Everywhere, there were flower sellers, selling mounds of exotic flowers of all colours; along with orchids and purple lotus flowers. While banana-leaves cut into squares or rectangles, were placed next to all types of fruit, vegetables, mostly leafy or with roots, along with eggs, next to a fish market.

Hindu traders were seen with caste-marks, like thin lines in black or vermillion colours, which were painted from the tip of their nose to their forehead. Most women were dressed in their traditional dresses of the sarong-like mekhla worn with a blouse and a shawl or in saris, often with embroidered borders, similar to those worn by Manipuri dancers. They also keep cash or valuables in small embroidered hand bags shaped like a Manipuri dancers dome shaped skirt. They were also seen in transparent pastel coloured saris, embellished with subtle woven flowers, typical of Manipur. The men were dressed in trousers, shirts or dhotis worn with kurtas, while most men were seen in trousers, jeans, T-shirts, sports caps and wearing sport-shoes. Some women were also seen in jeans, kurtis and scarves and riding scooters, complete with helmet. The textile market, also run by women, was very popular; with its variety of colourful fabrics.

Besides cars, buses, taxis, auto-rickshaws, cycle-rickshaws are also used as a popular form of transport in Imphal.

The food markets of Ema-Market are very popular, arranged with benches, where; both men and women were seen eating food in steel plates or banana leaves. The food was cooked right there; in vessels simmering over coal stoves, as their plates were filled with rice, dal or fish-curry with pakode or fritters, fermented fish, dried strips of meat, cooked soya-soup served in paper-cups, along with black-rice kheer. While packaged food like shrimp-paste and pickled apple jam were also available in the market.

Some stalls had fabric dolls dressed in the Manipuri dance attire with male drum-players dressed in dhotis and turbans. Some corners of the bazaar were stacked with bamboo artifacts, knives, spears. Then, there were ritualistic objects made with puffed rice cooked in jaggery; shaped like pyramids or roasted rice flour; ground with sugar, shaped like boxes or made into laddoos.

Most Manipuris love paan, which are available everywhere, so paan, beetle-leaf and chopped beetle nut are supposed to be the perfect ending to all meals. These markets were efficiently run and a perfect example of Women-Power.