Keya Sarkar: The mela that was

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Given that the West Bengal government considers Santiniketan one of its hot tourist destinations, it has done little to promote it. A tourist lodge is pretty much all that the tourism department can boast of.

Despite this indifference, however, Santiniketan gets an influx of tourists in December for the Paus Mela between the 23rd and the 25th. Started by Tagore, the mela was to be a celebration of crafts and folk culture. And so it remained for many years.

Over the years the mela became a time for all Bengali aristocrats to plan their visits to coincide with the fair, for old students of Viswa Bharati University to plan for their annual alumni, for stall owners to gear up for a spike in sales, for craftsmen to finish their harvesting work in time, and for folk singers and tribal dancers to congregate from all over the district.

And as one walked through the mela ground which spills on to the roads surrounding it, one could stumble upon decorative crafts but, more importantly, craft in everyday life.

Wooden trays and bowls, ironsmith wares, terracotta woks, painted tin trunks, terracotta and hide toys were all on display and in the air was the smell of jalebis, potato chops, egg parathas, sesame sweets and much more.

The fun of bargaining for a knife that one may never have occasion to use, to find the precious terracotta doll in pieces on arrival home, to ensure one has the jalebis on the first day before the oil became acrid, to shiver in the cold while returning home after the jatra show late at night are memories I treasure.

So when I shifted base to Santiniketan a year ago, I looked forward to the mela now as a local and not as a visitor. I tried to ensure that I was free to enjoy the mela for the three days. But I was in for a huge disappointment.

As I watched the stalls being constructed and the signs coming up, they were either government handloom organisations, or commercial banks or awareness building organisations.

The craft sellers of bronze, terracotta, folk paintings and tribal jewellery had been accommodated, if at all, in the corridors between the large stalls. As evening approached, their little candles looked even more pathetic compared to the fluorescent tubes of the large stalls.

The folk cultural programmes which were free flowing and easy earlier were now, thanks to the surge in the artist numbers, restricted to one song by the rude intervention of the organisers.

The Baul songs which could be heard over the loudspeakers were now replaced by the deafening hum of the motorcycle show. The little groups of ex-students of the university which gathered and broke into spontaneous Rabindra Sangeet were now no more.

I remember all my male friends thronging the tribal jewellery shops to ogle at all the attractive girls dressed in the signature Santiniketan style.

So difficult to define, yet so recognisable. I remember envying the local girls who could wear little flower buds as earrings or grass bangles which would over-shine all our gold and silver. Now all that the men encountered were hip-hugging jeans accessorised by mobile phones.

As I walked through the mela, I realised what was upsetting was the complete loss of the mela's unique character. Soon there will be little difference between the National Handloom Expo in Kolkata or the consumer exhibition in Mumbai and the Paus Mela in Santiniketan.

But Viswa Bharati University, which is the event manager, does not have the greatest credibility in safekeeping of treasures. And the uniqueness of the mela is too intangible a property for the University authorities to even consider safekeeping.