Confluence

GALLERY 02 | WATER & CULTURE

EXHIBIT
02/03
01

Postcards to Water

Explore the sub exhibits

 
Photo Source: Pratik Chorge
1 2

Pani Se Pyaar

 
2 2

Pani Ka Paigham

EXHIBITOR'S NOTE

Pani Se Pyaar

Given an opportunity, what would communities in Mumbai say to water?

The livelihoods of many in the city are closely linked to water.

The Dhobis who stay immersed in water through a large part of the day, the Kolis who spend weeks at sea away from mainland, the Ice-golawalas who transform humble ice shavings into sweet, colourful treats, the Bhishtees or water carriers, a vanishing

community in the city or the Warlis who farm and live along the rivers in Mumbai. Their daily routines are perhaps more deeply interlaced with water than that of many others. Above all, water is integral to the sustenance of their livelihoods. We voice their relationships with water through a series of postcards named Paani Se Pyaar.

KEY CONTRIBUTORS

JINISHA LODAYA MINAZ ANSARI

TEAM MEMBERS

JOVEL SILVA MEHVISH SAYED

IMAGES SOURCED FROM

ASLAM SAYED MOHAMMED ESA SHAIKH SUNNY TANK VANESSA LOBO

पानी से प्यार

संधी मिळाली तर मुंबईतील हे समाज पाण्याशी काय बरं संवाद साधतील?

मुंबई शहरातील कित्येकांची उपजीविका पाण्यावर अवलंबून असते

उदाहरणार्थ, दिवसातील कित्येक तास पाण्यात उभे राहून काम करणारे धोबी, जमिनी पासून दूर खोल समुद्रात अनेक आठवडे मासेमारी करणारे कोळी, बर्फाच्या लादीचा चुरा करून रंगीबेरंगी, गोड चवीचे गोळे बनवून विकणारे गोळेवाले, पाणपोई चालविणारे तसेच पाणी वाहून नेणारे भिश्ती या लोप पावणाऱ्या लोकसंस्कृती, तसेच

मुंबईतील नदी किनाऱ्यांवर शेती करणारा वारली समुदाय. या सगळ्यांचा दिनक्रम पाण्याभोवती अधिकच घट्ट गुंफला गेला आहे. सर्वांत महत्त्वाचे म्हणजे पाणी हा त्यांच्या अस्तित्वाचा एक अविभाज्य भाग झाला आहे. त्यांच्या पाण्यासोबतच्या याच नात्याला आम्ही 'पानी से प्यार' या पोस्टकार्ड शृंखले मार्फत सादर करत आहोत.

योगदान

जिनीषा लोडाया मिनाझ अन्सारी

सह-योगदान

जोवेल सिल्वा मेहविश सय्यद

छायाचित्र

अस्लम सय्यद मोहम्मद इसा शेख सन्नी टंक वेनेस्सा लोबो

WARLI

DHOBI

KOLI

GOLAWALA

BHISTIS

WARLI

Text : Dear River,
I live in your embrace, unseen by the dazzle of the rest of Mumbai City. Your basin is my humble home which I share with caterpillars and

READ MORE
crabs, termites and snakes, deer and leopards. I grew up bathing, fishing, playing in your waters, diving down gushing waterfalls in the monsoons. I learnt how to make colours from the bright rocks in your bed and painted your stories on the walls of my home.

You are integral to my life. The vegetables I grow in my wadi, the fish I catch in your streams and the waters that I fill in shiny metal pots are all vital to my sustenance. I may not worship you through rituals and offerings but I treat you like a sacred entity by keeping you clean and preventing you from deterioration.

Your existence brought my ancestors into your fold centuries before Mumbai came into being. And yet, today, you and I are both invisible to the city. If at all, you are seen as a nala and me as an encroacher...

It's time someone heard our story - the story of a river that is home to many lives and a community that cradles along its banks.

Yours,
A Warli SEE LESS

DHOBI

My dear friend Water,
You and I are intertwined by the simple act of cleansing. For you, cleansing is an inherent quality; to me it is a means of livelihood and life.

READ MORE
I and thousands like me in the Dhobi Ghat wash scores of pieces of clothing and linen for hotels, hospitals and homes every single day.

Our relationship with each other is intimate. From the wee hours of the morning to late in the night, you are central to this ritual of cleansing as it continues with clockwork precision 365 days a year. I spend long hours immersed in soapy water, flogging, brushing and rinsing piles of garments in the largest open air laundromat in the world. And as I relax my tired limbs after a warm bath at the end of the day I often wonder what tomorrow brings.

Nestled in the central part of the city, our microcosm of work and stay is often eyed as a potential for development. Tempting though it sounds, I wonder how our livelihoods will survive without the centuries old washing pens, flogging stones and the places to dry and iron clothes.

Will this rapidly changing city remember the relationship between the dhobi and his washing cubicle? I often wonder...

Yours,
A Dhobi SEE LESS

KOLI

Dear Water,
My earliest childhood memory is of standing along your coast watching my father sail into your folds with fishing nets, baits, food and water

READ MORE
to last through the trip. How I yearned to go with him as I stood at the edge of the sea, waves lapping at my calves, the sand wriggling under my feet. I knew even then that I belonged not to the land but to the sea. My true home was in your embrace, Sailing into your depths, breathing in the sharp salty air, braving rain and sun alike, swaying to the rhythm of your movement. The land was merely a place to pause, to give back to others your abundant gifts of clams and shells, fish and other fruits of the sea.

The Coast and its civilizations brings with it its own complex mechanisms. Its only when I leave the shores behind to ride every wave you throw up, do I feel like I have found myself - me, the king of waters. To your kingdom I belong.

Yours,
A Koli SEE LESS

GOLAWALA

Dear Water,
We meet every day at my kiosk at the street corner; you, a block of ice and me the busy golawala. We are both loved by everyone. Hundreds hound

READ MORE
my stall, drooling at the enticing thought of a sweet syrupy icy treat quenching their thirst on a hot day.

A brazen riot of colours lines my counter as I create magic out of a simple block of ice as it is crushed and shaped around a stick and drenched in a medley of mouth-watering colourful sugary flavours. You are every child's fantasy and me, the conjurer of these fantasies into reality. You and I make a fine team indeed...

Why then, dear water, do you disappear from my life the moment I shut shop and return to my shanty after work? Why do I have to chase you at the common tap down the narrow lane outside my room where you appear in spurts at odd hours of the night? Why do I struggle every day for a few buckets of water that I need for my survival and daily needs?

Why then, dear water, do you disappear from my life the moment I shut shop and return to my shanty after work? Why do I have to chase you at the common tap down the narrow lane outside my room where you appear in spurts at odd hours of the night? Why do I struggle every day for a few buckets of water that I need for my survival and daily needs?

Yours,
An Ice golawala SEE LESS

BHISTIS

Dear Water,
It's a hot, sultry afternoon. You and I have been trudging up and down the bazaars and mohallas around Mohammad Ali Road all morning.

READ MORE
I stop to rest my feet outside the Minara Masjid. This heavy water- carrier, the mashaq which I have filled from the Kalbadevi Baoli, is gnawing away at my tired shoulder. Finally, a customer stops by and you quench his thirst, musky and sweetish in flavour, typical to that from a goatskin mashaq.

Not many remember the bhishtis anymore, we, who derive our name from the word bahisht or paradise. Even fewer know of the role we played as water-carriers in the British Raj, as we quenched the thirst of millions during wars, construction projects and in public spaces, without physical contact with the customers.

Today, our function has been taken over by water tanks, bottled water and other beverages. And our role in the city is disappearing as are our meagre earnings. We are probably the last generation of bhishtis but I wonder that with the growing water needs and depleting resources, will we re-emerge as a needed entity in the cities of the future?

Yours,
A Bhistee SEE LESS
DOWNLOAD FREE PRINT
  BACK
NEXT SUB EXHIBIT
02  
NEXT EXHIBIT
NEXT EXHIBIT
EXHIBIT
03/03

Water and Communities

GALLERY
02 - WATER AND CULTURE
EXPLORE

WATER AND FAITH

E/01G/02

GALLERY 01

WATER & BUILT HERITAGE

GALLERY 03

WATER & LIVELIHOODS