Redesigning The Caravan Magazine (Vol. 1): A Graduation Project Documentation by Pupul Bisht

GRADUATION project Redesigning The Caravan Magazine Sponsor : The Caravan

Volume : 1 of 3 student : PUPUL BISHT programme : Bachelor of Design

guide : Tarun DEEP GIRDHER

2015 COMMUNICATION DESIGN faculty (GRAPHIC DESIGN)

National Institute of Design Ahmedabad

The Evaluation Jury recommends PUPUL BISHT for the

Bachelor of Design of the National Institute of Design IN COMMUNICATION DESIGN (GRAPHIC DESIGN)

herewith, for the project titled "REDESIGNING THE CARAVAN MAGAZINE" on fulfilling the further requirements by

Chairman Members :

*Subsequent remarks regarding fulfilling the requirements :

Registrar(Academics)

ORIGINALITY STATEMENT I hereby declare that this submission is my own work and it contains no full or substantial copy of previously published material, or it does not even contain substantial proportions of material which have been accepted for the award of any other degree or diploma of any other educational institution, except where due acknowledgement is made in this graduation project. Moreover I also declare that none of the concepts are borrowed or copied without due acknowledgement. I further declare that the intellectual content of this Graduation Project is the product of my own work, except to the extent that assistance from others in the projectâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s design and conception or in style, presentation and linguistic expression is acknowledged. This graduation project (or part of it) was not and will not be submitted as assessed work in any other academic course. Student Name in Full: PUPUL BISHT Signature: Date:

COPYRIGHT STATEMENT I hereby grant the National Institute of Design the right to archive and to make available my graduation project/thesis/dissertation in whole or in part in the Instituteâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Knowledge Management Center in all forms of media, now or hereafter known, subject to the provisions of the Copyright Act. I have either used no substantial portions of copyright material in my document or I have obtained permission to use copyright material. Student Name in Full: PUPUL BISHT Signature: Date:

Copyright ÂŠ 2015 Student document publication, meant for Private Circulation only. All rights reserved. Bachelor of Design, Graphic Design, 2011 - 2015, National Institute of Design, Ahmedabad, India. No part of this document will be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronically or mechanically, including photocopying, xerography and videography recording without written permission from the publisher, Pupul Bisht and National Institute of Design, India. Trademark names are used throughout this document. Rather than putting a trademark symbol in every occurrence of a trademark name, it is stated that the names are used only in an editorial manner and to the benefit of the trademark holder with no infringement of the trademark. Few photographs used in this document are sourced from the web and are used for representational purposes only. All illustrations and photographs in this document are Copyright ÂŠ 2013 - 2015 by respective people / organizations. PLEASE NOTE: The colours shown throughout this document may not be the correct colour due to difference in printing process and pigments used for producing this document. Designed by: Pupul Bisht Edited by: Tarun Deep Girdher and Pupul Bisht E-mail: pupulbisht@gmail.com Processed at Sonal Xerox, Navrangpura, Ahmedabad-380002, Gujarat, India www.nid.edu Printed digitally in Ahmedabad, India. September 2015

This document was printed by Sonal Xerox, Ahmedabad on Ricoh Pro C651EX machine using VCSEL laser technology, pressing CMYK ink onto 130gsm matt art paper and 100gsm buff paper, set in Gotham family designed by Tobias Frere- Jones.

#printisntdead

Pupul Bisht 路 UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

contributors THE LEDE

8 10 12 14 16

Swati Sanyal Tarafdar is a freelance writer based in Vijayawada, Andhra Pradesh. Her work has appeared in publications including The Statesman, The Hindu, Women’s International Perspective and Women’s eNews. Debarshi Dasgupta is a Delhi-based writer, and has worked for Outlook and the Hindustan Times. He is on Twitter as @sanitydurast. Omkar Khandekar is a freelance journalist and writer. He has worked for two Mumbaibased newspapers, and has been published in two short-story anthologies. Joe Freeman is a Yangon-based journalist whose work has appeared in the Nikkei Asian Review, the Washington Post, Global Post and Foreign Policy. He co-edits the hyper-local website Coconuts Yangon. Sowmiya Ashok is currently pursuing a graduate degree in journalism at Columbia University. She is a former political reporter for The Hindu, and has also reported for Mint. The reporting for her piece in this issue was facilitated by UNICEF Kenya.

PERSPECTIVES

22 Vaasanthi is a bilingual author and freelance journalist who writes in Tamil and English. She was the editor of the Tamil edition of India Today for nine years, and is the author of Cut-outs, Caste and Cine Stars: The World of Tamil Politics, published by Penguin. She lives and works in Bangalore. 25 Krishn Kaushik is a staff writer at The Caravan. 28 Vidya Krishnan is a Delhi-based journalist. She writes on public health policies and does research for the Public Health Foundation of India. 31 Shubhankar Dam is an associate professor of law at the City University of Hong Kong, and the author of Presidential Legislation in India: The Law and Practice of Ordinances (Cambridge, 2014).

REPORTAGE AND ESSAYS

34 Neha Dixit is an independent journalist who writes on politics and social justice in South Asia. 54 Rucha Karkarey and Shreya Yadav are marine biologists working in the Lakshadweep archipelago with the Nature Conservation Foundation. Their work on corals and groupers contributes towards understanding how climate-related disturbances are affecting the ecological functions of coral reefs.

PHOTO ESSAY

64 Alberto Maserin is a co-founder of the Belfast Photo Factory, a non-profit collective. His work has appeared in Source, Time, and the Irish Arts Review. He lives in Belfast, and works between Northern Ireland and Italy.

BOOKS

84 Mantra Mukim is a postgraduate student of English literature at Delhi University.

COVER

Design: FN

Photo: information.up.nic.in

our new look With this issue, The Caravan introduces a redesigned layout. The redesign was led by Pupul Bisht, a student at the National Institute of Design, Ahmedabad, with support from Girish Arora, our chief designer, and Parasuram Kokiri and Paramjeet Singh, our graphic designers. For more details on the process and our new look, please visit www.caravanmagazine.in/redesign2015.

subscribe subscription@delhipress.in

edited, printed & published by Paresh Nath on behalf of Delhi Press Patra Prakashan Pvt. Ltd. E-3 Jhandewalan Estate, New Delhi - 110055 and printed at Delhi Press Samachar Patra Pvt. Ltd. A- 36 Sahibabad, Ghaziabad & Delhi Press E-3, Jhandewalan Estate, New Delhi - 110055 and published at Delhi Press Patra Prakashan Pvt. Ltd. E-3 Jhandewalan Estate, New Delhi - 110055 editorial, advertisement & publication office E-3, Jhandewalan Estate, Rani Jhansi Marg, New Delhi - 110055, Phone: 41398888, 23529557 email: advertising@delhipressgroup.com Other Offices ahmedabad: 503, Narayan Chambers, Ashram Road, Ahmedabad-380009 Phone: 26577845 bangalore: G-3, HVS Court, 21, Cunningham Road, Bangalore - 560052 Phone: 22267233

editor Anant Nath executive editor Vinod K Jose political editor Hartosh Singh Bal associate editors Supriya Nair, Sonal Shah and Ajay Krishnan books editor Anjum Hasan fiction and poetry editor Chandrahas Choudhury copy editor Roman Gautam web editor Nikita Saxena contributing editors Deborah Baker, Fatima Bhutto, Siddhartha Deb, Sadanand Dhume, Siddharth Dube, Christophe Jaffrelot, Mira Kamdar, Miranda Kennedy, Amitava Kumar, Basharat Peer, Samanth Subramanian and Salil Tripathi staff writers Praveen Donthi and Krishn Kaushik web reporters Atul Dev and Ishan Marvel editorial manager Anoop Sreenivas fact checker Kaushal Shroff photo editor Srinivas Kuruganti assistant photo editor Sukruti Anah Staneley design FN graphic designers Parasuram Kokiri and Paramjeet Singh intern Gayas Eapen editorial management intern Benjamin Moe design intern Pupul Bisht photo intern Koyna Tomar

website www.caravanmagazine.in

mumbai: A 4, Shriram Industrial Estate, Wadala, Mumbai - 400031 Phone: 65766302, 65766303 kolkata: Poddar Point, 3rd Floor, 113, Park Street, Kolkata - 700016 Phone: 22298981 kochi: G-7, Pioneer Towers, 1, Marine Drive, Kochi - 682031, Phone: 2371537 lucknow: B-G/3, 4, Sapru Marg, Lucknow - 226001, Phone: 2618856 chennai: 14, First Floor, Cison’s Complex, Montieth Road, Chennai - 600008 Phone: 28554448 patna: 111, Ashiana Towers, Exhibition Road, Patna - 800001, Phone: 2685286 secunderabad: 122, Chenoy Trade Centre, 116, Park Lane, Secunderabad - 500003 Phone: 27841596 jaipur: Geetanjali Tower, Shop No 114 Opp. Vyas Hospital, Ajmer Road, Jaipur - 302006, Phone: 3296580 bhopal: B-31, Vardhaman Green Park Colony, 80 Fit Road, Bhopal - 462023 Phone 2573057

Title The Caravan is registered with Govt. of India as trade mark. ISSN 0971-0639 Rates inland One copy R75, Discounted price one/two years, R675/1260 respectively. 75 p. per copy air surcharge in following areas: Silchar, Dibrugarh, Agartala, Tezpur, Imphal, Akaras and Nepal. international subscription airmail US $ 53 (12 Issues) express delivery saarc countries US $ 126 (12 Issues) express delivery europe & south america US $ 215 (12 Issues) express delivery rest of the world US $ 143 (12 Issues) subscription should be remitted through money orders, cheques/ bank drafts drawn in favour of Delhi Prakashan Vitran Pte. Ltd., at E-3, Jhandewalan Estate, New Delhi - 110055

THE CARAVAN

editor.thecaravan@delhipress.in

facebook.com/TheCaravanMagazine

@thecaravanindia

Copyright notice © Delhi Press Patra Prakashan Pte Ltd., New Delhi - 110055. INDIA. All materials published in this magazine (including, but not limited to articles, quotations, extracts, or any parts of the article, photographs, images, illustrations also known as the “Content”) are protected by copyright, and owned by delhi press patra prakashan pte ltd. You may not modify, publish, transmit, participate in the transfer or sale of, reproduce create new works from, distribute, perform, display, or in any way exploit, any of the Content in whole or in part. This copy is sold on the condition that the jurisdiction for all disputes concerning sale, subscription and published matter will be settled in courts/forums/tribunals at Delhi.

For a great man, my mama, Sudhir Tailang, who has the purest heart. All that I know about being creative and being genuine is from you. Thank you for a childhood filled with imagination and adventure. For Babuji and his treasure-trove of stories on Indian typography and printing. Your unparalleled passion inspires me. You are an ocean of wisdom and every conversation with you is a life lesson.

My thanks are due to The Caravan magazine and Girish Arora, for giving me this once in a life time opportunity and for having faith and conviction in my capabilities as a designer even more than I did, myself. Special thanks to managing editor, Anant Nath for his wholehearted and passionate involvement in the project; to Vinod Jose and Hartosh Singh Bal for their intelligent feedback and for sharing indispensable insights on the world of magazines. Thank you Anoop, Param, Parasu, Sukruti, Srini and Roman for lending all possible support and help to this project and me whenever it was needed. Thank you to the printers at Delhi Press whose hardwork was instrumental in bringing our design vision to life. The most sincere and heartfelt thank you to my guide Tarun Deep Girdher, whose passion for his job and what he teaches is contagious. Thank you for working so hard on shaping me into the designer I am today and for teaching me lessons that I will carry throughout my lifeâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s journey. This project and I owe a lot to your guidance, support and willingness to share your knowledge with the world. I would like to thank Immanuel Suresh for the magical conversations in his office that have always left me feeling inspired. Thank you for teaching me how to to overcome self-doubt. Thank you Anil, Rupesh and Tridha for

spending your valuable time teaching us. Thank you Chakradhar for inspiring me right at the beginning of this journey and for always keeping in touch. I extend my gratitude to all the other faculty members at NID who have contributed to my education in direct and indirect ways. I would like to thank the entire team of NID PrintLabs for always lending an encouraging support system to students who are passionate about print design and for setting such a high standard of quality in production. A big thanks to all my juniors, seniors and super seniors at NID for making my time here worthwhile and for always inspiring me to be a better version of myself. I consider it a priveledge to have learnt and lived with some of the most creative and extraordinary minds of this country. To all my graphic design batchmates, thank you all for the honest feedbacks and for being a constant source of motivation. Thank you Ishita, Noopur, Noosheen, Naomi and Stuthi for always inspiring me to push my limits and for adding life to exceptionally dull days. Thank you Upamanyu for the refreshing kitchen conversations and for the surprise cupcakes. Thank you Ishita and Kratu for being my go-to people whenever I was stressed out. Thank you Saumya and Aman for all the typefaces.

Thank you Noosheen for helping out with the photographs; what would I do without you! Thank you Kalp for feeding me through the allnighters with your cupboard full of farsaan. A special thanks to Ninaad Kulkarni for always believing in me. Thank you for being such a great example of extraordinary conviction and hardwork. I learn so much from you everyday. Thank you for taking beautiful photographs for the section openers. Thank you Naomi Kundu, for being next to me throughout this documentation, for helping me write, think and survive it. Thank you for being a friend, a roommate and a mother to me when I most needed it. Thank you Gowri, Geetika and Arjun for the being friends that I can always count on. Thank you Deshna for encouraging me to dig deeper. Thank you Alpana Aunty for the invaluable feedback. I express heartfelt gratitude to my entire family for always encouraging me to pursue my dreams. Thank you Mummy and Papa for all the love, support, strength, guidance and freedom. I could not have done it without you. Lastly I would like to thank the printers at Sonal Xerox for bringing this document to life.

Caravan - | karÄ&#x2014;van | noun A group of travellers, as merchants or pilgrims, journeying a long distance together In the spring-summer of 2015, between the months of February and June, I undertook one of the most challenging and extensive journeys of my life as a design student, yet. This document is a reflective articulation of the same. It explores the creative process that went into re-designing The Caravan magazine, an English monthly journal of politics and culture, published by The Delhi Press. As per NIDâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s curriculum, all final semester students are required to undertake a degree project with a client organization. This comprises of a comprehensive project based on a predetermined design brief. Students are encouraged and expected to select projects closely allied to their area of interest and discipline of study. This final project is an opportunity for students to demonstrate their expertise as independent practitioners

of design. For the same, I worked on a five month long re-design project with The Caravan magazine in New Delhi. The Caravan was first launched in 1940 and was discontinued in 1988. Since its relaunch in 2010, the magazine has stuck true to its commitment to narrative journalism with an aesthetically pleasing yet understated demeanor. With the startling increase of web media in the field of journalism and due to the evolution and diversification of the contents of the magazine, the management felt a need for a facelift; a sort of an image makeover. This gave way to a re-design exercise aimed at visually redefining the magazine. This document aims to provide a comprehensive and reflective study of the process of context-deconstruction, concept-building, visualization and execution aspects of a magazine design project. With detailed records of thoughts, ideas, decisions and discoveries, the document intends to serve as a reference

for a magazine/publication design project of a similar nature. The document is divided in three parts. Volume one covers the earlier stages of the design process from information collection to design iterations. Volume two focuses more on final design decisions and discuss in detail the intentions behind them. Volume three contains the two issues of the redesigned magazine. Sincere effort has been made to edit and present the five month long design process and experience in an honest and rational fashion. Staying true to the nature of the project and the experience of the student, the document has been written in a personal and expressionist voice. I hope that the reader will be able to appreciate and engage with the journey, analyze the process and understand the motivations behind the design.

IMAGE COURTESY OF NAOMI KUNDU

Institute: National Institute of Design

STUTHI VASUDEVAN

The National Institute of Design (NID) is internationally acclaimed as one of the foremost multi-disciplinary institutions in the field of design education and research. The Business Week, USA has listed NID as one of the top 25 European & Asian programmes in the world. Established in 1961 under the Ministry of Industry and Commerce, NID has produced several leading personalities in the industry, as well as great design educators and thinkers. The institute today, functions as an autonomous body under the department of Industrial Policy & Promotion, Ministry of Commerce & Industry, Government of India. NID has been declared â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Institution of National Importanceâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; by the Act of Parliament, by virtue of the National Institute of Design Act 2014. The mandate for NID is to offer world-class design education and to promote design

awareness and application towards raising the quality of life. NID has taken five decades of pioneering hard work by the academic community at the institute to develop a system of education which lays more emphasis on learning than on mere instruction. Over a span of the last 50 years, the institution has made it a point to lay emphasis on learning and to pursue innovation led designs through the development of the mind and skills of designers. This technique has motivated students to perform better and has given them an edge over other design professionals. NID offers a wide spectrum of design domains while encouraging trans-disciplinary design projects. NID is a unique institution with many problem-solving capabilities, depths of intellect and a time-tested creative educational culture in promoting design competencies and setting standards of design education.

Bachelor of Design

Graphic Design

NID offers a four year Bachelor of Design programme in 8 design disciplines. The first year of the Bachelors Programme at NID is the Foundation Programme. This rigorous programme ensures students are wellversed with all aspects of design, and their understanding of design basics is thorough.

Graphic Design, is one of the 8 disciplines that an under graduate student at NID may choose to specialise in. Graphic design plays many roles, as effective information-dispenser, communicator and persuader. Technology and mediums are rapidly changing the way the graphic designer works, but basic principles of good design hold strong. Besides aesthetic considerations, graphic design encompasses contemporary culture, media, research, analysis, and critical judgment. Development of conceptual thinking as well as traditional design skills are given equal emphasis during the course. Graphic design offers different areas of study as such typography, illustration, publication design, identity design, branding, and information design. It covers a range of work, from signage systems to medical leaflets, and educational tools to logos.

The Foundation Programme includes courses such as Colour, Form, Geometry, Design Concepts and Concerns, Environmental Perception, and many more inputs including field trips. It is geared to assist in developing values, attitudes, sensorial skills and aesthetic sensitivity necessary for specialisation in design and orients students to thinking of design as a creative problem solving process. After the Foundation Programme students join different disciplines based on their choice, aptitude, and Grade Point Average.

Pupul Bisht Âˇ UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

Guide: Tarun Deep Girdher

MANI MARAN

Tarun Deep Girdher has been teaching at NID for more than 16 years. Currently a senior faculty in Graphic Design, Tarun also coordinated the Foundation Programme at NID from 2003–2005 and Graphic Design discipline from 2008–2011. At present Tarun also hold the positions of Head, PrintLabs and Head, Publications at NID. He is also the chairperson of NID’s Admissions Cell. He teaches courses such as Typography, Visual Narratives, Introduction to Printing Technology, Introduction to Specialisation, Open Electives, Communication Skills, Letter Design, Publication Design, and Introduction to Illustration, Environmental Perception. A keen observer of social behaviour, Tarun also has a passion for hand lettering, hand book binding and designing visually clever calendars. Being a firm believer in striking a balance between theory and practice, he often engages

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

his students in hands on work outside of the computer. He has a special inclination and years of invaluable expertise in design interventions in the socially relevant areas of education, health care, gender studies, accessibility and disaster awareness. He has created visual identity and logos for various agencies, including Right to Information, Central Pulp and Paper Research Institute, Institute of Company Secretaries of India, National Institute of Naturopathy. He recently designed the logo for ‘None Of The Above’ (NOTA) option for the Election Commission of India. He has been a part of the jury at Design for Change School Challenge 2011, Poster for Tomorrow 2010, 2012 and 2014, Department of Architecture, University of Moratuwa, Sri Lanka, CEPT University, and NIFT Gandhinagar. He was also the international mentor for

Creatives Waves Omnium Project— an online collaborative design workshop for visual design and photomedia for international design students in 2005. His work and musings on the world of design and beyond can be viewed on: www.tarunonlife.wordpress.com www.issuu.com/tarundg www.behance.net/tarundeep His handle on Instagram is tarundg

Client/ Sponsor: The Caravan

NAOMI KUNDU

The Caravan is an English monthly magazine published by The Delhi Press, New Delhi. Delhi Press was established in 1939 by late Mr. Vishva Nath, a visionary and freedom fighter. The Caravan was launched in the following year and became an immediate success, enjoying wide readership in the country. Currently, The Delhi Press is one of the leading magazine publishers of India. With 36 magazines in 10 languages, including some of the biggest names in the country like Grihshobha, Woman’s Era, Sarita, Saras Salil and Champak. Delhi Press reaches out to more than 35 million readers. Most of the magazines published by the group are leaders in their respective genres. The Caravan was published for 48 years until, in 1988, Delhi Press decided to discontinue the magazine to start a current affairs magazine, while the group was still demonstrating consistent growth in all its other titles. Then

in 2010, The Caravan was relaunched as India’s first narrative journalism magazine. Focused on politics and culture, this monthly publication also offers nips of fiction, poetry and travelogues.

In essence, The Caravan remains true to its name. It chugs along slowly, soaking in the political and cultural landscape. Along the way it offers an insightful journey into the world in which we live.

The magazine’s richness and texture come, too, from its ability to contextualize current affairs. The reportage is as sharp and insightful as the commentary and reviews that dominate the magazine.

MY MENTOR AT THE MAGAZINE:

The unique selling point of this magazine could be its distinctly international flavor, peppered with globe-trotting contributing editors. The first couple of sections feature on-ground reports that illuminate oft-ignored global stories, as well as quirky tidbits of news from foreign shores. The Caravan thereby appeals to the cosmopolitan reader based in Manhattan as much as the Indian attending a literary festival in Jaipur.

At The Caravan magazine, the consultant art director, Girish Arora was the mentor of this redesign project. Girish has been leading the design team at the magazine right from the time of its relaunch in 2010. He strongly believes that good design must always be consistent with a magazine’s vision and must reinforce the importance of content without being a distraction.

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

Student: A Personal Introduction

NAOMI KUNDU

Sunday, 26 January 1992 witnessed an exceptionally rainy morning going by the standards of the infamous Delhi winters. While the rest of my city watched the live telecast of the Republic Day Parade, I cried my way out into this world. My name is Pupul Bisht and I had never planned to be a designer. Growing up in the capital city of Delhi, amidst a multitude of cultures, languages and problems, was a rather enriching experience. The concepts of ‘diversity’ and ‘co-existence’ featured quite early on in my life and it is fascinating to see them resurface today, every time I sit down to design. But, like I mentioned above, being a designer was never a goal . I always found myself driven to Anthropology, Diplomatic Studies or even Journalism. I am glad, life had other plans.

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

In school, I spent most of my years as an active entity on the ‘extra-curricular’ radar. I am a dancer and I also shamelessly tried my hand at music, art and drama. Never sports. But the one skill that eventually became my identity was public speaking. Being a debater, taught me the art of articulation and that of analytically deconstructing statements and scenarios. It also taught me that the only thing more important than knowing what you stand for, is knowing what you do not stand for. The practice of speaking extempore, exposed me to the beauty and power of the spontaneous thought. Today, these skills and epiphanies serve as a point of departure for my design thinking. My arrival in the world of design was a result of elimination rather than choice. I graduated from school in 2010 and at that time I wanted to run away from everything I had been doing thus

far. I did not want to pursue disciplines that I was confident I would be able to shine in. I felt the need to challenge myself, to throw myself completely out of my comfort zone. Of course, I was being crazy. And what better place to be crazy than in a design school.

path. But it was too early to give up on my design dream. Besides, NIFT being the premiere institute of fashion in the country, I knew I could only expect quality learning. And that was the beginning of my one year stint as a fashion design student.

Being a Design Student: Part I National Institute of Fashion Technology

I had never formally been an art student, so it was at NIFT that I forged my friendship with paper and pencil for the first time. It was an exciting new world, I was learning how to draw, mould metal, weave yarn, model clay, carve wood, fold paper into platonic solids, make repeat patterns and pronounce ‘haute couture’, all at once. Fashion school helped me develop an eye for visually and aesthetically pleasing things. It made me an observer. And above all, it taught me that beauty lies in the details. I definitely owe it to my time at NIFT to introduce me to the world of design.

In the first half of 2010, I sat for a couple of design entrance exams. I cleared the first round of the NID entrance test but didn’t make the cut in the second round. I blamed lack of preparation. Around that time I got accepted into the Knitwear Design program at National Institute of Fashion Technology, Delhi. As a consumer/ audience, I found fashion pleasurable, however, I hadn’t thought of it as a prospective career

Being a Design Student: Part II

NAOMI KUNDU

I joined National Institute of Design in the summer of 2011. Highly aware of the glorious legacy of the institute, I entered with unparalleled enthusiasm and willingness to learn. My foundation year at NID was by far the most learning-intensive year of my life yet. We were taught not just to be good designers but to be better people. It was at this time that I truly began to look at design thinking as a way of life. Being in a class of a hundred students coming from the most diverse backgrounds from across the country broadened my perspective. Although, at the time of entering the school I had wanted to pursue Industrial Design, the one year of foundation studies really shifted things around. I realised that even as a designer

my true strength was in articulation and communication of my concept. I knew then, that the discipline of Visual Communication would be the right choice for me. The first year in the Graphic Design department is relatively skill oriented. With intensive courses in drawing & illustration, typography, image making, photography etc. the focus is on equipping the students with fundamental skills and techniques required to become successful graphic designers. What made this ‘foundation’ year in graphic design crucial for me was the fact that we were slowly learning to make connections between concept and output. Each semester thereafter, typically concluded with a 6-10 week long design project. Luckily for us, our department never imposed any ‘theme’ or ‘output’ on our design projects and students were encourage to respond to

personal callings and draw from their own experiences while choosing and defining project briefs. Around this time I began questioning my intention as a designer. Projects or issues with a strong social or cultural context started appealing to me. In the course of four classroom projects, I worked on subjects as diverse as oral folk literature, disaster awareness & mitigation, certificate design and social behaviour & team building. Each project brought with itself, a new set of learnings and epiphanies. Towards the end of third year, I took up an internship in an independent graphic design studio based out of Delhi called Dev Kabir Malik Design. The team at the studio was small, three designers and three interns. The two months at DKM were intense and tiring but also refreshing in a way. It was here, that I experienced the thrill of working on real time briefs and

facing actual deadlines, for the first time. The internship served as a great opportunity to brush up my tangible skills and become more aware of my expression as a graphic designer. During the internship, among other things, I got the chance to work on a couple of publication design projects. I worked on photo-essays, page layouts, logo design and editorial illustrations for The Sunday Guardian newspaper and The Outdoor Journal magazine. Besides the joy of seeing my work getting published, I began enjoying the challenges of content driven design that is characteristic of publications. Editorial design had caught my fancy for all the right reasons and I was already looking forward to exploring it further in the coming months.

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

CONTENTS

THE PROJECT

HOPPING ON THE CARAVAN

24 Why did I choose magazine design?

30 The Caravan: Magazine

26 Project Brief & Timeline

34 The Caravan: Masthead

Acknowledgments Preface Institute Guide

36 Flow of Work at a Magazine

Sponsor/ Client

38 Behind the Scenes at the Printing Press

Student

48 Vision Document

STEPPING INTO THE READERâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;S SHOES

THE PROCESS

TAKING A STEP BACK

54 The Caravan Story

86 Waterfall vs Agile Method

56 The Contemporaries

88 Magazine Redesign 101

66 The Caravan: Design Audit

88 Learning by Example: Case Studies

82 Observations and Inferences

96 What Really Happened: My 22 Weeks 98 Warming Up: Explorations

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

12 Glossary

REALIGN, REPURPOSE — RESTART

FROM HEAD TO TOE

DECISION TIME

10 Consistency vs Modulation

46 Final Design Selection

The Caravan, September 2015 issue

12 Design Approach #1

56 Concept Highlights

The Caravan, October 2015 issue

18 Design Approach #2

62 Revision of Structure

24 Design Approach #3

64 Colour Palette

30 Design Approach #4

66 Iconography

36 Design Approach #5

68 Grid & Style Sheets

Bibliography

OUT ON STANDS!

Colophon

42 Reaching a Consensus

THE NEW CARAVAN

CONCLUSION

LEARNING AND REFLECTIONS

96 Promotion & Advertisement

116 Looking Back & Moving Forward

126 About Designing a Magazine

98 The Magazine

128 About Working on my own 130 Invaluable Finds & Resources

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

01 THE PROJECT

My little experience in the world of design has taught me that no two designers will ever take up the same project with an identical set of motivations and aspirations. Unlike other disciplines, design doesn’t have a ‘syllabus’ set in stone. To that effect, each designer has his/ her own principles and preferences that drive them toward (or away) from a certain brief. More often than not, these personal aspirations guide the course of the design process and eventually the project outcome. This is probably the reason why, no two designers would ever produce the same design result (of course I am taking originality as a given).

The thought of the commuter on the metro, the student in the library and the person enjoying his morning cup of tea, flipping through the pages of something that I have made was probably the most exciting and compelling part of the selection process. The project began in February 2015. Initially slated to be completed in 4 months, in real time it was extended to a total period of 5 months, from context understanding to final design approval. Given the fact that the magazine already had an in-house graphic design team, my role was restricted to visualizing and executing the redesigned version.

It helped me to be aware of the reasons that motivated me to choose this project. During the course of the project in the subsequent months, every time I was confused, it was helpful to remind myself why I started in the first place. While all graphic designers fundamentally work with word and image to produce an aesthetically pleasing and coherent design, the ones who decide to devout themselves to publication design take this a notch higher. Throughout my time as a student at NID, I have chosen projects where the subject matter appealed to me. In case of The Caravan, it wasn’t any different. The process of making something that has dimension and weight satisfies my tactile soul. I believe that in today’s digital age it is a rare blessing to be able to physically interact with your design and hold it with your own two hands.

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

#publicationdesign

WHY DID I CHOOSE MAGAZINE DESIGN? 1

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t already daydreaming about maddening deadlines, chaotic flat plans, extensive content structuring and high voltage newsroom action followed by the rewarding feeling of seeing the issue on the news rack.

The months leading up to your final semester are always filled with anticipation. Committing six months of your academic life to a single project is a big deal. And in the case of a discipline like graphic design, where the options are infinite, the process of narrowing down on a specific project brief can be overwhelming. Hence, taking an overview of one’s motivations and intentions as a designer/student always helps to arrive at a few objectives that one would want the final project to fulfill. In my case, the inclination toward doing a project that would give me a fair chance to engage in content generation, was quite strong. As I mentioned earlier, from the time of internship (which happened roughly six months prior to the time of project selection) I had developed a particular liking for graphic design projects of editorial nature. In addition to this, during my time at NID, I had fallen in love with the medium of print. For my last classroom project, I had gotten the opportunity to design the certificates awarded by NID to its graduating students during the convocation ceremony. What made this project special was the fact, that for the first time

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

The Project

in its history, the institute awarded degrees of Bachelor and Master of Design instead of diplomas to its students. A lot of effort was put into designing the certificates so that they serve as a befitting memento of such a glorious day in the history of NID. The certificates, very consciously, exploited the in-house strengths of NID in the production process. During this time, I got a chance to get my hands dirty in various print techniques like paper dying, offset printing, letterpress printing, screen printing etc. Being able to get off the computer for a while and the satisfaction of physically interacting with your design was incomparable. It was the beginning of a very promising love affair with print design. Taking editorial and print design as my two main cues, I began looking for project opportunities. In the course of two weeks, I wrote to approximately 30 different studios, publishing houses and independent professionals, in India and abroad, seeking an internship. Among a bunch of user-interface, branding, packaging and website design projects, the one brief that immediately caught my eye was that of a redesign opportunity with The Caravan magazine. I knew almost

instantly that a magazine design project would be a perfect choice for my purpose. Sure a magazine arguably is one of the more complex design environments to handle but that complexity is what drew me the most toward this project. Interestingly, about half a decade ago, I had watched the American documentary film, The September Issue which is about the behind-the-scenes drama that follows editorin-chief Anna Wintour and her staff during the production of the September 2007 issue of American Vogue magazine. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t already daydreaming about maddening deadlines, chaotic flat plans, extensive content structuring and high voltage newsroom action followed by the rewarding feeling of seeing the issue on the news rack. It isn’t every day that an undergraduate student gets the opportunity to almost single handedly redesign a prominent national magazine. It was going to be an unprecedented experience for me. So I hopped on board. The next few months were a whirlwind of experimentation, trial, failure, epiphanies and valuable learning. Continue on for an introspective process recap; I hope you enjoy taking a look as much as I enjoyed working on it.

1 Editorial Illustration I did this illustration during my internship at Dev Kabir Malik Design, for a cover story titled ‘ Myth and the Art of Bit-coin Maintenance’ that ran in the Sunday Guardian newspaper in April 2014. To see my work published and being sold on newsstands was a novel thrill.

3 Degree Certificates for NID The graduation certificates awarded by NID on the 37th Convocation, that I designed as a classroom project under the guidance of Tarun Deep Girdher. This was my first project which saw actual production. I was intrigued by people’s reaction to my design and was completely mesmerized by the beauty of tactile graphic design.

2 Welcome to Graphic Design Designed as a part of my Typography Course, the brief was to design a welcome booklet for new students joining the discipline of Graphic Design. This project made me realize that I had a special interest and knack for publication design.

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

#projectplanning

PROJECT BRIEF & TIMELINE 4

To undertake a redesign exercise for a politicalcultural journal titled â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;The Caravanâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;. To understand different structures involved in magazine design. To add to the visual and functional layers of the publication through this redesign.

Five years down since its relaunch, the team at The Caravan, felt a strong need for a revamp. At the time when I wrote to the editor seeking an opportunity, the redesign project had already begun. Even though they had spent roughly four months towards attempting a redesign, not much had been achieved since the in-house design team was caught up with the monthly issues. After a discussion with the management, the Consulting Art Director of the magazine, Girish Arora, wrote back to me proposing a four month long redesign exercise for the entire magazine. A four month deadline, even though extremely tight for a full redesign, was decided upon given the fact that they had already invested some time in the process. In order to facilitate a speedy workflow, my mentor Girish restricted my involvement in the ongoing monthly issues. He believed this would give me the space and time to provide undivided attention to the redesign only. When I entered the project, most of the content structuring had already been decided upon. This became a point of departure for my

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

The Project

project. The project objective was very clear. I was to work on the redesign at a macro level, thereby setting up the underlying visual structure in the first month and then fleshing it out over the next month, post which, I would work on two issues in real time to see the application of my research and explorations done over the first half of the project. Like most project timelines, in this case too, the initial timeline was altered a lot while working real-time. After the first month, we began responding to the needs and challenges as and when they presented themselves. Besides this, a lot of other factors affected the pattern and speed of work in real-time. I will be talking about the modified (or actual) timeline of the project in detail in the upcoming chapters.

January 18, 2015

ACTUAL TIME-LINE

FEB

MAR

APR

MAY

JUN

CONTEXT BUILDING Understanding expectations and concerns, familiarizing with the magazine, debriefing

DESIGN AUDIT Studying the competition and contemporary visual styles, analyzing the current structure, case studies

VISUAL EXPLORATION Sketches/thumbnails of ideas, layout iterations, masthead iterations, moodboards, visual language iterations

DESIGN DEVELOPMENT Visual language selection, layout refinement, final concept building, final design decision

4 Acceptance Letter I was invited on board this project by the consultant art director of The Caravan, Girish Arora, who also mentored me during the project. Due to the constraints of time he dictated the nature of tasks and exercises for the majority of the first half of the project.

5 Project Proposal This is the final draft of the project proposal that was submitted to NID at the time of registration. This proposal clearly states the brief, methodology , scope of work and initial timeline. However, in real time the timeline was significantly altered.

EXECUTION & PROMOTION Final design dummy, communication collaterals for marketing, conceptualizing and visualizing ads for launch

PROJECT DOCUMENTATION

Pupul Bisht 路 UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

02 HOPPING ON THE CARAVAN

I believe, most design processes start with a host of questions. The most significant of these questions is; Is my design going to be mindful or mindless? While both can be beautiful and attractive, only mindful design can truly stay relevant to its cause. To begin by understanding where the project is coming from and where is it going, is important. Speaking strictly in terms of publication design, you need to approach the project holistically because you are going to be dealing with several complex problems of hierarchy within one issue. This section explores the various angles in which I approached the process of understanding the magazine and the project. Given the importance laid on understanding the context at NID, I recognized the need of building a solid foundation of meticulous information gathering and analysis for this project as well.

New Delhi, the office with its slick modern air was quite a contrast to the old world charm of the rest of the press. My conversation with Anant helped me understand the aspirations and expectations of the management and editorial team better. It also defined the constraints within which I was required to work. With a thorough understanding of the motivation behind the redesign, I decided to dig deeper into the work dynamics at the magazine office. I split my study into three parts; first, understanding the magazine and its people; second, understanding the preproduction workflow; and third, understanding the production process involved.

I began the project by looking at what the magazine is about, what the content is, who is the reader and what else do they read, what is the tone of voice, what is the agenda. Bit by bit, I began building a contextual story around the magazine which would later help me validate my design decisions. What helped in this direction in a big way was my first formal meeting with Managing Editor of The Caravan, Anant Nath. It was my first visit to The Caravan office. Sitting on the third floor of The Delhi Press building in Jhandewalan in

Pupul Bisht 路 UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

#thecaravanmagazine

The Caravan fills a niche in the Indian media that has remained vacant for far too long, one for the intellectually curious and aesthetically refined reader, who seeks a magazine of exceptional quality rather than the proliferating quantity of publications now crowding newsstands.

THE CARAVAN: MAGAZINE The country’s first and only publication devoted to narrative journalism, The Caravan occupies a singular position among Indian magazines. Their stories present a unique mix of detailed reporting, lively and vivid writing, and a commitment to the art of storytelling whether the subject is politics, culture, travel or art. Far from publishing the typical sort of pieces that fill the pages of daily newspapers and weekly magazines rushing to chase yesterday’s headlines, The Caravan showcases artfully constructed stories whose subjects go far beyond the chatter of daily television news. Based on months of reporting and research, the stories are crafted into dramatic narratives that employ pace, colour, character and style to keep the reader hooked from start to finish— combining the excitement and immediacy of great literature with real characters, real plots and real consequences. Drawing on the tradition established by international magazines like The New Yorker and Granta, The Caravan presents a rich and nuanced picture of contemporary India in all its complexity. Since its relaunch in January 2010, the magazine has earned a reputation

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

Hopping on The Caravan

as one of the country’s most sophisticated publications: a showcase for the region’s finest writers and a distinctive blend of masterful reporting, incisive criticism and commentary, stunning photo essays, and gripping new fiction and poetry. The Caravan fills a niche in the Indian media that has remained vacant for far too long, one for the intellectually curious and aesthetically refined reader, who seeks a magazine of exceptional quality rather than the proliferating quantity of publications now crowding newsstands. It is a new kind of magazine for a new kind of reader, one who demands both style and substance.

AWARDS AND RECOGNITION The Caravan is one of the most critically acclaimed magazines of the country. Being the first and the only Indian magazine dedicated solely to long-form journalism, The Caravan enjoys an exclusive status and has a very faithful niche readership. Since its relaunch in 2010, the magazine and its writing has been recognized as one of the best in India and it has received several prestigious awards for the same.

2010

2011

2012

2013

2014

For her article ‘The Treasure of Trash’ (February 2010), Mridu Khullar was named Development Journalist of the Year at the Asian Development Bank Institute’s Developing Asia Journalism Awards, 2010, in Tokyo.

Samanth Subramanian’s ‘The Confidence Man’ (March 2011), a profile of Lalit Modi, listed in Longform.org’s Best of 2011 compilation in the sports reportage category.

Rohini Mohan's ‘The Defeated’ (February 2012) recognized as the best print media article on humanitarian issues by the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) in collaboration with the Press Institute of India.

Prayaag Akbar’s ‘The Growing Tuberculosis Threat’ (October 2012) conferred an award for effective reporting on Tuberculosis by REACH/ Lilly MDR-TB Partnership.

Krishn Kaushik's profile of former Attorney General Goolam Vahanvati, 'Inside Man' (May 2013), awarded Best Political Feature of 2013 by the Mumbai Press Club.

Vinod K Jose’s ‘Falling Man’ (October 2011) included in the centennial compilation of 100 Great Stories covered by Columbia School journalists.

Mehboob Jeelani's profile of Ponty Chadha, 'Under the Influence' (November 2013), awarded the runner-up position for Best Business Feature of 2013 by the Mumbai Press Club.

Vinod K Jose’s ‘The Emperor Uncrowned: The Rise of Narendra Modi’ (March 2012) and ‘On the Success of Ethics’ (December 2012) cited for reporting excellence by the jury for the Osborne Elliott Prize for Excellence in Journalism on Asia.

Akshay Manwani's story on the making of BR Chopra's Mahabharat, 'The Show of Shows' (April 2013), awarded Best Entertainment & Lifestyle Story of 2013 by the Mumbai Press Club.

Vinod K Jose's 'River Deep Mountain High', on a bungled Indo-US espionage mission in the Himalayas, and 'The Last Lear', a profile of M Karunanidhi, received an honourable mention in the 2011 Kurt Schork Awards in International Journalism.

Samanth Subramanian’s profile of Subramanian Swamy, ‘The Outlier’ (May 2012) awarded Best Political Story of 2012, and his profile of Samir Jain, ‘Supreme Being’ (December 2012) awarded Best Entertainment / Media Story of 2012 by the Mumbai Press Club. 23 July Mehboob Jeelani's profile of Syed Ali Geelani, 'The Man Who Says No To New Delhi' (September 2010) awarded the Ramnath Goenka award for Reporting from J&K and the Northeast (Print).

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Trisha Gupta's essay on the films depicting working-class lives, 'Difficult Loves' (November 2013), awarded the runner-up position for Best Entertainment & Lifestyle Story of 2013 by the Mumbai Press Club. Virat Markandeya's story on the quest for natural quasicrystals, 'Forbidden Symmetry' (November 2013) awarded Best Science & Innovation Story of 2013 by the Mumbai Press Club.

Graduation Project 2015

6 Cover Page This is one of the older covers of The Caravan from before the relaunch. At the time of the relaunch they redesigned the older version and also changed the masthead which has been in use ever since.

7 Magazine Interiors Interior pages of one of the oldest issues of The Caravan, dating back to 1960’s. The typography was simple yet bold. The publication was designed more like a literary journal than a magazine.

Indian journalism and decided to fulfill that niche. This made it a first of its kind in India. In this way, The Caravan is very different from the news weekly which curate the top stories of the week, where in, The Caravan focuses on the evergreen, meatier stories and subject matters. On one end it is thorough reporting that can boast on solid facts and on the other end it is craftier writing. At its inception, The Caravan did not aspire to only be a political magazine. In the earlier issues, the team made extra effort to touch on a variety of topics such as politics, business, pop-culture. While the essence and intention of the magazine still remains, most of the newer issues have been politically inclined.

The essence of Caravan is steep in the fact people love to hear stories. It blends the best of two world, the best of reportage and the best of story telling. The founders of the magazine felt that this was a space that was missing in

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

Hopping on The Caravan

The Caravan was the first magazine of Delhi Press which was launched in 1940 by late Shri Vishwa Nath. It was the first Indian magazine in English that was started by an Indian. It then went on to define English journalism in India right through the 1950’s and 1960’s. Since it was unprecedented in its genre and was meant to pave way for English literary journalism in India, Vishwa Nath decided to call it “Caravan’. The team at Caravan is very selective about

the stories that they pursue. When they do something, they only like to do it once but with perfection and in great detail.. Over the years, The Caravan has defined certain parameters for content selection. As opposed to most magazines in the country, The Caravan focuses more on the people and events behind 7

a particular incident rather than simply talking about ‘what’ happened. This has eventually become a USP that sets the writing apart in a market full of competition. By the virtue of a sensitive detailed study of stories at a micro level and presenting it in a compelling narrative framework, the magazine has managed to garner a loyal readership and an enviable

8 Imagery The initial issues of The Caravan, before the relaunch reflect the printing technology of the time. A lot of the imagery in the magazine was hand-painted illustrations.

9 Famous Title The Delhi Press boasts of publishing as many as 36 titles in 10 Indian languages. Some of the popular ones amongst these are Champak, Woman’s Era, Grah Shobha, The Caravan, Mukta and Sarita.

sensational tone of voice. Instead of taking a ‘breaking-news’ stand point on important issues, it allows its readers to really feel the pulse of what is happening around them. In that sense The Caravan is very different in comparison to the other titles in the kitty of The Delhi Press. From language of writing

to the subjects covered, no other magazine published by The Delhi Press comes close to Caravan’s genre. Ultimately, what makes it possible for The Caravan to sustain such levels of quality and consistency is the undying passion and conviction of the people behind the magazine.

reputation internationally. Despite meticulous reporting, linguistically The Caravan carries a style that is easy to read. Besides, The Caravan is a journal that cuts across a wide variety of topics and doesn’t particularly side with a specific ideology.

Maintaining this neutral standpoint through all these years, despite the rigorous reporting, has probably been one of the most crucial achievements of The Caravan as a brand. But through all this, the one principle that The Caravan holds tight to its core is a non-

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

#teamcaravan

New Journalism writings and investigations were new to India and they did not have a readily available pool of talented writerjournalists who could contribute regularly.

THE CARAVAN: MASTHEAD At the time when The Caravan reinvented, it was trying to achieve something very ambitious — doing journalism in a new tradition. New Journalism writings and investigations were new to India and they did not have a readily available pool of talented writer-journalists who could contribute regularly. The challenge was to identify and train young graduates who could then become the first generation New Journalists of India. However, they realized that doing so would take a couple of years of real hard work and it may further take five to ten years for the country to sit-up and recognize The Caravan. This would mean a long haul editorially. To overcome this tricky situation, the editors decided to take an unusual approach. Initially, they began by making an extensive list of accomplished non-fiction authors in South Asia. They decided to call them the ‘contributing editors’ of the magazine. These contributing editors went on to become the first generation writers of The Caravan. This also helped them demonstrate what direction they were looking at in terms of writing and reporting and gain from the reputation of these writers.

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

Hopping on The Caravan

The next step towards team building was ‘The Caravan Paid-Internship Program’ which was launched with the intention to identify, train and recruit young talented reporters who could be groomed into reporting the way they wanted them to. They take at least four trainee reporters on board at a given time. This approach proved to financially cost-effective and editorially-flexible way of finding talent to do New Journalism in India. In that sense The Caravan can boast of a mix of both worlds — solid experience and bubbling new energy. Even today, the backbone of the magazine is undoubtedly its passionate and committed team of very talented writers.

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF, PRINTER & PUBLISHER Paresh Nath

MANAGING EDITOR Anant Nath

EXECUTIVE EDITOR Vinod K Jose

POLITICAL EDITOR Hartosh Singh Bal

ASSOCIATE EDITOR Supriya Nair

ASSOCIATE EDITOR Ajay Krishnan

COPY EDITOR Roman Gautam

BOOK EDITOR Anjum Hasan

FICTION & POETRY EDITOR Chandrahas Chowdhary

ASSISTANT WEB EDITOR Nikita Saxena

ASSISTANT WEB EDITOR Serena Peck

EDITORIAL MANAGER Anoop Sreenivas

PHOTO EDITOR Srinivas Kuruganti

ASSISTANT PHOTO EDITOR Sukruti Anah Staneley

ART DIRECTOR Girish Arora

GRAPHIC DESIGNER Parasuram Kokiri

GRAPHIC DESIGNER Paramjeet Singh

All images on this spread courtsey of www.caravanmagazine.in

Pupul Bisht 路 UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

#workpipeline

Especially in the case of a magazine/ newspaper where working quickly is a necessity, only a design that facilitates the speed of working rather than hampering it, can be called successful.

FLOW OF WORK AT A MAGAZINE In addition to understanding the content and the market position of the publication, I recognized the need to understand a typical monthly work cycle at the magazine office. Especially in the case of a magazine/ newspaper where working quickly is a necessity, only a design that facilitates the speed of working rather than hampering it, can be called successful. While the primacy of content over design is a given, it was crucial to verify the hierarchy of editorial preferences in order to define the limits within which the design team operates. The deadlines often decide how much time and effort goes into a piece and hence it was important to understand what comes in when. As shown in the flow chart in the facing page, each month at the magazine office sees a very typical production timeline. Taking an average month of 30 days as an example, the work on the next issue usually starts around the second week of each month. The period between the 7th to the 22nd of each month is known as the ‘production week’ (even though its is technically a fortnight).

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

Hopping on The Caravan

In the first week of every month, before the production starts, the designers are usually handling outside jobs such as designing selfads, posters for events jointly organized by The Caravan and its sponsors etc. The magazine is divided in three broad sections namely the Front of the Book (FoB), Well and Back of the Book (BoB). While both FoB and BoB contain smaller and lighter articles, the well of the magazine is the most content intensive part and carries the cover story and the reportage pieces. From the second week onwards, the first drafts for the articles start flowing in. The first ones to come-in are usually shorter pieces for the FoB and BoB sections of the magazine as well as commissioned pieces such as the photo essay, book reviews etc. The position and selection of ads is also decided at this point. The Well of the magazine, which is the most meaty section of the magazine usually comes in at the end. One of the main reasons for this is the nature of reportage pieces. In case of The Caravan, most of the well pieces are political

profiles, which need to be edited carefully due to the sensitivity of the issues written about. Sometimes, while running the profiles of influential people who are currently in power, it takes the editors very long to get a legal clean chit. This is essential to safeguard the freedom of speech of the press.

the final edited copy, popularly known as the ‘good-to-go’ or ‘GTG’ version at The Caravan.

The copy editors first hand over a rough draft of the story to the designers. In the meanwhile, the editors also sit with the photo editors to select the photographs for the story. Once the designers have received both the draft and photographs for a particular story, they start laying out the content in the design. At this point the designer only places pull-quotes with dummy text. A PDF of this is sent back to the editor for revision. Technical issues such as widows, orphans, word-count etc are ironed out during this stage. However, sometimes based on urgency sometimes the editors takes a call to ignore these issue and not alter the text.

The editorial team, along with the writer of the cover story, the photo editor and the art director, deliberate on the content of the cover page. Based on the cover story as well as the quality of all the related images available, they conceptualize and visualize the cover. At The Caravan, it is usually the art director who takes care of the final execution of the cover-page. Quite often the cover imagery is illustrated. In addition to this, the final design files are passed through the art director for a final look.

The editor/ writer then replaces the dummy text from the pull-quotes and photo captions and sends the PDF back to the designers. Along with this they also send a text file of

With these the designers then prepare the final design files that can be sent for pre-press. All page elements are placed and frozen at this stage and are not subject to further change.

The last week of the month is spent at the printing press. Here the magazines are fleshed out and the freshly printed magazines are delivered in time to the various news stands in time for the next month.

PRODUCTION WEEK

7 Work on non-magazine jobs (ads, events etc)

How Work Moves Around

Smaller pieces come in (FoB, BoB, Photo Essay)

21 The well comes in (Cover story, Reportage)

SECTION EDITORS/ WRITERS

28 Printing and Distribution

PDF of the article layout with images in place and placeholder pull-quotes

DESIGN TEAM

in a Magazine Office Discussion on finding contextappropriate imagery for articles

EDITORS/ WRITERS

First draft of the story (pre proof reading stage)

SECTION EDITOR

PHOTO EDITORS The selected images for the story

Discussion and planning for the cover page design

ART DIRECTOR

DESIGN TEAM

The final cover page design

Pre-press PDF file of the entire coverto-cover issue

The section editor inspects the PDF sent by the designer

The GTG* version of the main story body copy

A PDF of the text file mentioning all pull-quotes in the final order

*GTG or ‘good-to-go’ version refers to the final, proof read text of a story

PRINTING PRESS

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

#printproduction

BEHIND THE SCENES AT THE PRINTING PRESS 10

Given the fact that the Delhi Press publishes as many as 36 magazines in 10 languages, the printing press is always busy with running one production cycle after another.

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

The second step of context building was understanding the production of the magazine. Chronologically, my visit to the printing press happened in the last week of the project. I have chosen, however, to discuss the production relatively earlier on in this document because I feel that a reader who may not have a general understanding of a typical production cycle would benefit from the discussion at this point. Being one of the oldest and largest publishing houses of the country, the Delhi Press also owns its own printing units. These two printing press units, both in the outskirts of Delhi (one in Sahibabad and the other in Badarpur Industrial Area), together print more than 4 million copies every month, which is in addition to books and outside printing jobs. There is a third printing press as well, which occupies the lower floors of the companyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s head corporate office in Jhandewalan in Central Delhi. This unit usually takes care of outside printing jobs and books that are produced under other labels of the company.

Hopping on The Caravan

My quest to catch the behind-the-scenes action of the production of The Caravan and its kin, lead me to make a trip to the dusty, barren lanes of Badarpur Industrial Area in Delhi. One hour and three metro rides later, I was exhausted and uninspired. All through my NID life, I have looked at the printing department in a rather romantic light. There was nothing romantic, however, about an urban industrial suburb. At this point, all I wanted was to reach the press safe and sound. But the first sight of the Delhi Press building turned my afternoon around. Standing tall and proud in all its sandstone glory, the press was in stark contrast to its concrete neighbours. After thorough inspection, I was escorted to the office of the managing head of the press. The thing about printing presses of a journalistic nature is that the security is very tight. This is mainly due to the nature of the publications that they print. The manager, Mr. Gulia, was kind enough to discuss the production process with me. The use of a camera was however, strictly

10 The Delhi Press Tucked away in the dusty lanes of the industrial suburban town of Badarpur in New Delhi, The Delhi Press is a testament of the glorious legacy of the publishing group.

11 Jhandewala Press The press on the basement and groundfloor of the Delhi Press head office in Jhandewala is mainly used to print outside and commissioned jobs on books and other printed material.

prohibited. All the photographs that you will see in the subsequent page of this section, were taken by Srinivas Kuruganti, photo-editor of The Caravan on one of his earlier trips. He was generous to share them with me for the purpose of my documentation. Given the fact that the Delhi Press publishes as many as 36 magazines in 10 languages, the printing press is always busy with running one production cycle after another. The covers of most magazines are printed separately in the Sahibabad unit, the printing of the inside pages, fabrication of the publications as well as packaging is all done in the Badarpur unit. At a given point of the month, one can expect three production cycles to be going on in the press simultaneously. While one publication gets printed on the machine, the other gets fabricated in the binding & packaging floor of the press. The third one, in the mean while, gets ready at C2P plate-developing room on the same floor.

All the magazines are printed on 4 colour web duplex machine. This is a web-fed unit, where rolls of paper (or web) are supplied to the machine instead of sheets. Offset web printing is generally used for runs in excess of five or ten thousand impressions. The particular UniTech press used in the Delhi Press is coldset (or non-heatset). Cold web offset printing dries through absorption into the paper. In addition to the benefits of speed and quick completion, these web presses have the inline ability to cut, perforate, and fold.

The Delhi Press commands the most highly integrated distribution network in India amongst magazine publishers. The group maintains contact with more than 3000 distributors and agents. There are 12 distribution offices in various state capitals. To maintain the strength of its channel, Delhi Press engages in outreach programs with partners at each level of the chain right till the morning hawkers.

The folded forms (16 pages per form, in the case of The Caravan) are then taken to the binding machine. This was the most fascinating multi-tasking machine of the press. A semimanual operated machine, it gathers, cuts, glues, saddle-stitches and attaches the cover all in one cycle. The ready magazines are then stacked and sent off to the packaging unit. Over here, these are packed in zone-wise bundles and transported out of the press.

Pupul Bisht 路 UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

12 40

12 Ink Mixers The ink mixers at the press are automated. The four colours C, M , Y and K are mixed separately in large metal cans as seen in the photo. This is done to remove air bubbles from the pigment 13 K, C, M, Y In the digital offset press, the first plate that presses an impression on the feed is ‘K’ or black followed by ‘C’ cyan, ‘M’ magenta and ‘Y’ yellow respectively. 14 Ink Mixer Close-up of the automated ink mixing unit.

All images on this spread courtsey of Srinivas Kuruganti

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

Hopping on The Caravan

15 Rollers The magenta rollers and plates on the press. The feed here is printed back-to-back at once. For this purpose, it passes sandwiched-through two plates as seen in the image.

16 Cleaning Act Each plate and roller on the press must be cleaned before it is ready for another run. A press worker is seen here cleaning the cyan ink off the press.

Pupul Bisht 路 UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

All images on this spread courtsey of Srinivas Kuruganti

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

Hopping on The Caravan

17 Stock The basement of the press where all the stock paper rolls are kept. The yellow crane is used to transport the huge reels from one place to another within the press 18 Loading The roll fitted on to a metal contraption before it can be loaded on to the press

19 Final Touches A worker fixes the loaded paper to get rid of the creases before the paper runs through the press 20 Mounted Roll A roll of stock mounted on the press, ready to run a new cycle 21 The Run The taut web of stock running through the plates

Pupul Bisht 路 UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

44 22

22 Creasing At the end of a complete cycle through all the four plates, before coming out of the press, the web-fed stock gets automatically creased and cut into forms. 23 Form A worker inspecting a freshly delivered form for registration and uniform impression.

All images on this spread courtsey of Srinivas Kuruganti

Redesigning The Caravan The Redesign Caravan Magazine

Hopping on The Caravan

45 24

26.1

24 Control Room Inside of the control-room of the press. This is where the ink supply to the plates is digitally regulated. 25 Calibration The operator at his control panel calibrating the ink flow and registration

26 Ink Flow The operator manipulates the ink flow on paper by regulating channels on the console. The forms in production are taped onto the dashboard for visual reference

27 Loupe The fold-able magnification glass is used in order to carefully analyze how ink lies on paper. Pressmen use them to check registration of colors, estimate dot-gain, and diagnose issues with roller pressure and chemistry based on the shape of individual dots and rosettes

Pupul Bisht 路 UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

My visit to the printing press apart from being informative and educative, was a revelation. The quality of output depends more (if not equally) on the quality of printing rather than that of design.

Working with a good printer is important for the overall health of your publication. While a good printer gives invaluable advice to the designer for the betterment of output, a bad printer may end up wasting all the time that went into designing the publication. I consider The Caravan to be lucky to have the privileged of having an in-house printing press. One would expect the standard of production of a publication with such facilities to be of superior quality. However, since I first joined this project, I had inspected the various copies of the magazine that I read and in each issue there were several cases of inconsistencies. Some of the most striking issues that surface in

28 Saddle-up! The gathered forms being saddle-stitched/ center stapled on the binding and gathering unit 29 Packaging The finished magazines are stacked and packed manually by the workers at the press. They are packed into bundles of fixed number of units to be dispatched

All images on this spread courtsey of Srinivas Kuruganti

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

Hopping on The Caravan

almost every production cycle of The Caravan are; poor registration, imprecise and inaccurate finishing (cutting) and weak binding. During the first two weeks of the project itself, I had made a note of these issues as I had noticed how they were really effecting the design of the magazine in a negative way. While problems of registration brought down the quality of images and made it almost impossible to use color in type, the imprecise finishing affected the alignment of elements. Besides, poor binding resulted in pages of the magazine falling out within a few reads. This is probably the most noticeable production blunder as it directly influences the reading experience of the consumer.

Determined to find the root of these issues, I had brought them up during several formal/ informal discussions with the editorial as well as the design team. Everyone however gave me a very standard response and blamed it on the standard of printing that was provided at The Delhi Press. Yet nobody seemed bothered enough to look into the matter or do anything about it. All the missing pieces of my quest fell into place when I personally visited the press. Upon interacting with the manager of the press as well as the workers of the different units, I realized that there are some attitudinal patterns that are inherent in the working of a family owned in-house printing unit.

authority over the printing process irrespective of their job/ position. Due to this they have a dismissive attitude towards any suggestion or concern that is brought up by the designers. Secondly, the final call on the material (paper) selection also rests with the manager and is customarily approved by the owner of the press. The manager takes these decisions based on his limited understanding of the nature of the magazine and its market position. This is a particular area of production in which I most felt the need of involvement of the art director and designers. In the dearth of this involvement the printing facility ends up limiting the quality of output and design rather than aiding and enhancing it.

Given the age of the printing press, most of the people working there have been the employees of The Delhi Press for several decades now. Therefore, they seem to assume a certain

30 Finishing The gathered and bound magazine are mechanically trimmed on three sides to detach the forms in order to facilitate the flipping of pages. This is the last step before packaging 31 Dispatching The freshly prepared bundles are then stacked and dispatched using an mechanical transportation system of the press. These yellow conveyor belts then deliver the bundles to the dispatching unit of the press

Pupul Bisht 路 UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

#visiondoc

Another great advantage of the vision document was that it helped me anchor my design concepts and align them with the expectations and vision of those who were responsible for its creation.

THE CARAVAN VISION DOCUMENT What is the Caravan? What is New Journalism? What is its business space? The information collection stage of any design process is of utmost importance. This is where the designer becomes familiar with the problem/ situation at hand. Academically, we spend a huge chunk of our timelines understanding the brand and its context. But in the industry things are different and almost everyone is short on time. This fact was an uncomfortable one to come to terms with, not like I had another option. Like I mentioned earlier, the real process of redesign had started almost four months prior to the commencement of my project. Since a lot of time was already lost, I was expected to wrap up the earlier phase of my process as soon as possible. This left me with only two solid weeks for information collection and analysis. At such a time crunch, what proved to be a lifesaver was ‘The Caravan- A Vision Document’. Dating back to late 2009- early 2010, this document was prepared by the then Senior Associate Editor of The Caravan, Vinod Jose. Vinod is now the Executive Editor of the magazine. This 15 page long draft, carefully

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

Hopping on The Caravan

outlines the vision and goals for The Caravan, at the time of its relaunch around 5 years back. Needless to say, this text came in handy for the purpose of familiarizing myself better with The Caravan. Some of the topics pertaining most to my need were the understanding of the personality of The Caravan, the nature of its journalism and the target group that it aims to cater to. In addition to this, the section ‘The Challenges, part (iii) Design and Magazine Layout’, articulates in fair detail, the quality of design that would be the most befitting to the case of the magazine.

It was interesting to notice how the editors who had once brainstormed together to come up with this ambitious vision of The Caravan, seemed to have lost sight of their initial dream for the publication. In all fairness, that also had a lot to do with changing market scenarios and a boon in technological development that they had probably not discounted for five years ago. As a designer as well as an outsider, I found tremendous merit in the initial vision of The Caravan in comparison to the vision at present. Therefore, directly and/or indirectly, throughout the design process I tried to uphold the principles defined in the vision document.

The Vision document was without doubt the most crucial key element in the earlier stages of my project. It helped plug the gaps in my understanding of The Caravan. It also gave me important leads on how to take the project ahead.

The main reason behind this intention was that I felt that those principles had taken birth from a more genuine and original streak of thought and hence provided the magazine a better chance towards developing a USP in a market that is crowded with information.

Another great advantage of the vision document was that it helped me anchor my design concepts and align them with the expectations and vision of those who were responsible for its creation.

Secondly, I realized that even though the reading habits of people may have seen a big shift towards the digital media in the past five years, the place for quality writing in Indian Journalism was still largely uncrowded.

Pupul Pupul Bisht Bisht路 UG 路 UG Graphic Graphic Design Design

Graduation Graduation Project Project 2015 2015

Redesigning The Caravan The Redesign Caravan Magazine

Hopping on The Caravan

Pupul Pupul Bisht Bisht路 UG 路 UG Graphic Graphic Design Design

Graduation Graduation Project Project 2015 2015

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

03 STEPPING INTO THE READER’S SHOES

After my first meeting with the managing editor of The Caravan, it was pretty clear that the-one-most-important-goal of this redesign was to broaden the readership and hence expand sales. Since The Caravan, like most other mainstream magazines in our country, is bought off the traditional news-stands, I decided to focus a little bit on what is it that the mainstream reader (consumer) is willing to pick-up. In order to understand the needs and preferences of the reader better, I carried a detailed examination of the visual styles and textual content that is made available to the urban reader through the various magazines. This was done in two phases; design audit followed by study of content structure and flow. To test the relevance and prominence of The Caravan in comparison to its competitors, it was necessary to analyze both sides in detail.

stand out the most from the crowd is visual novelty. Analyzing The Caravan and its prominent contemporaries helped me establish an overall understanding of the current magazine market in urban India. This in turn, proved extremely beneficial in the later stages of design explorations. A magazine ultimately is a conversation between the audience and the writers. In order for the design to add value to this conversation, it must respond to the taste of its audience as well as the intention of its authors.

A design audit helps a designer by providing an exhaustive visual library of styles that are already in practice. Besides reflecting trends, this helps one objectively understand how and where graphic design can be applied to enhance the effectiveness of content. It also helps in establishing which ideas and treatments are currently in use and shall not be repeated in order to make sure that your design doesn’t appear to be a copy or extension of something that is already in circulation. Like most other industries, what helps a publication

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

#ireadthecaravanbecause

The Caravan Story is a short video that traces the journey of The Caravan magazineWith snippets of interviews of the founders, editors, writers as well as the readers, this film is the perfect crash course in ‘introduction to The Caravan’.

THE CARAVAN STORY

“When it was (re) launched in 2010, The Caravan was something of an experiment. The Indian magazine market was already crowded with weeklies battling each other to stay on top of every new story. The Caravan entered this world but chose a different focus—deeply detailed reportage, quality long-form writing and great storytelling, published monthly.” The Caravan Story is a short video that traces the journey of The Caravan magazine. Made and released at the time of the re-launch of the magazine back in 2010, this eleven and a half minutes films beautifully encapsulates the essence of The Caravan experience. With snippets of interviews of the founders, editors, writers as well as the readers, this film is the perfect crash course in ‘introduction to The Caravan’.

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

Stepping into the Readers’ Shoes

Since the time-line of my project did not allow for a very detailed field study and formal interaction with the reader, this film gave me a good starting point for my analysis. Following this, I dug up the archived fulllength interviews of the eminent readers of The Caravan that were part of this film which became an important resource for me. In addition to this I also spoke to several loyal as well as casual readers of The Caravan, informally, to get their perspective.

I read the caravan because...

“... I am an admirer of it for three reasons. Firstly, I think it has in-depth, analytical articles which give a fairly full-picture understanding of the subject. Second, it is extremely well-written. Linguistically, its style is easy to read and that I applaud. And thirdly, its a journal that evokes a wide cross-section and doesn’t have a particular stand point except perhaps the quest of truth.” — Karan Thapar

“...its well written, well edited and thoughtful. Getting into the depths of people, understanding them, their circumstances, their challenges, can be particularly rewarding to read and digest” — Shashi Tharoor “…it is the smartest and the best written magazine of long-form journalism in the country. It has given voice to a whole new generation of bright new writers of India especially in the non-fiction space. Non-fiction is booming and one of the reasons its booming in the country is because of The Caravan.” — Chiki Sarkar “...for starters it is intelligent. The work is nuanced, in a country where nuance is dead.” — Rahul Bose

“... it makes me think..” — Suhasini Haider

“…what I like about The Caravan is that it is very conversational and covers a large variety” — Vikram Sakhuja

“... its production values are so superior to those of any of its rivals. The presentation is attractive, the quality of the photographs is superb, quality of the writing is consistently good.” — Mani Shankar Aiyar

“...slowly it is gaining confidence and getting better. The Caravan is creating a literary shellburst, everybody is tweeting about it and that is the sign of a magazine doing the right stuff” — William Dalrymple

“…its the only one of its kind.” — Jaideep Sahni

“...it is non-sensational” — Ravi Rao

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

#magazineculture

The triumph of the design, really, is in communicating the right personality to a potential reader at first sight.

THE CONTEMPORARIES

On my trip to the local newsstand, I stood staring at the 50 odd publications stacked neatly one behind the other in claustrophobic rows. Some of them were strategically placed in more visible slots owing to their popularity and/or eye-catchy and attention-worthy covers. Every magazine with its distinct nameplate and cover graphic had its own personality; loud, gaudy, sophisticated, elitist, literary, sporty etc.

significant examples of the same. The study of these magazines can be divided into three clear categories; the ones I studied for their visual design, the ones I studied for the similarity of their content with that of The Caravan and lastly the ones that are the contemporaries of The Caravan in Indian political journalism. The facing page discusses the prominent titles of these three categories more clearly.

All these magazines standing one behind the other in tight rows, with mostly just their (mast) heads smiling at the viewer, reminded me of a typical year-end class photograph taken in school. The publications were like enthusiastic students, standing in a large, crowded group which looks homogeneous from a distance but on close inspection it is easy to notice the unique personality and charm that each individual is bringing to the table. The triumph of the design, really, is in communicating the right personality to a potential reader at first sight.

Further in the following pages, I have discussed a more elaborate content and visual analysis of 4 of the most significant contemporaries of The Caravan. These 4 magazines were shortlisted keeping in mind their relevance to the immediate market of The Caravan. Similarity of content, structure, format, common-readership etc were some of the criteria for the selection.

Even though I studied around 20 national and international contemporary magazines and journals in great detail, for the sake of clarity, in this document I have included only the most

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

Stepping into the Readersâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; Shoes

FOR SIMILARITY IN CONTENT As a reader I was new to long-form journalism. A significant time of the project, initially, was naturally spent on understanding the nuances of this form of writing. As a designer, on the other hand, it did not take me time to realize that one of the biggest challenges for me was going to be the substantial word-count. For this reason, I decided to look towards some of the successful and respected examples of long-form journalism for cues on spaceefficient design. I noticed that each magazine, had its own unique way of dealing with the

issue. While on one hand, The New Yorker, continues to hold its writing and content on the center-stage and utilizes a more understated aesthetic, The Atlantic, on the other hand, is recognized by its iconic bold visual language as much as its authentic reporting.

The Outpost was an important discovery of this process. A socio-political journal published out of the Middle East, it is the only such magazine coming from that region and is an excellent example of impeccable design.

FOR HAVING A COMMON MARKET Closer home, The Caravan enjoys a relatively exclusive position in its market in terms of nature of content and journalistic voice owing to the absence of a contemporary magazine dedicated to narrative writing. But in terms of theme, there are quite a few significant contemporaries of The Caravan that pose a decent competition in quality political reporting. These were the most important for me to study as they also provided a honest reflection of the aesthetic taste, visual and intellectual exposure of the Indian reader.

FOR VISUAL DESIGN These were the magazines that I studied in great detail for stimulation in the visual direction. Strictly speaking in terms of nature of content, style of journalism and market, most of these did not have much in common with The Caravan. All these magazines, however, enjoy indisputable international reputation when it comes to visual appeal and quality of design and production. Although, The Caravan may not have a similar inclination and financial funding as most of these, looking at them as a curious first-timer in the world of magazine design gave me a good boost of inspiration.

Pupul Bisht 路 UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

India Today

Publisher: India Today Group Editor-in-chief: Aroon Purie Website: www.indiatoday.in

India Today is an Indian English-language weekly magazine published by the India Today Group. The group also runs a television news channel by the same name. It was established in 1975 by Vidya Vilas Purie (owner of Thompson Press), with his daughter Madhu Trehan as its editor and his son Aroon Purie as its publisher. At present, India Today is also published in Hindi, Tamil, Malayalam and Telugu. The India Today news channel was launched on 22 May 2015. Frequency- Weekly Format- 200*275 mm Price- INR 40 Binding- Center Pinned No. of Pages- 122 (approx)

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

Stepping into the Readersâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; Shoes

Section Identifiers Slug Infographic

WHAT WORKS

WHAT DOESN’T WORKS

The magazine exploits a clever balance of visual and textual information in its pieces which results in an enjoyable reading experience especially for a casual reader.

The downside of having multiple elements on page is an obvious visual clutter. Also, there isn’t enough visual contrast between the ads and the main content and which may lead to poor navigation.

Story Head Pull-quote

Story Strap Byline

VISUAL LANGUAGE The visual language of the India Today magazine is a clear reflection on its market position. It is simple yet attention-grabbing and has an obvious mass-appeal to it. The use of imagery, both in form of photography as well as illustration and infographics is one of the most note-worthy feature of the design. Another obvious feature of the visual language is its liberal use of color in imagery as well as in typography. In most places the information hierarchy in the page is supported by use of color to highlight key elements. With a base scheme of black type on white paper, the magazine uses red, green and purple as accent colors in different sections. COLOUR PALETTE

GRID

TYPOGRAPHY

FEATURES

IMAGERY

The India Today magazine follows a 12-column basic grid which is used in variations of 2, 3 and 4 column layouts according to the requirement of different sections.

The magazine follows a classic typographic scheme with sans-serif for headers and serif for body copy. In the body text, the paragraphs are justified. The design uses type-size instead of weight to create visual hierarchy.

Visual Slugs- Figure 1 shows the ‘visual slugs’ that are characteristic of the India Today magazine. Each section uses a graphical element on the top-left corner of the page which acts as a visual identifier for that part of the magazine. While their are standard visual-markers for the regular sections of the book, for the special features these markers are designed keeping in mind the theme of the articles.

The magazine relies heavily on visual imagery to bring life to its pages. In a majority of spreads the relative size of the photographs is quite large and this trend is consistent throughout the magazine. In addition, there is a liberal use of info-graphics of varying visual styles to make the reading experience more engaging and less overwhelming.

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

Outlook

Publisher: Outlook Publishing (India) Editor-in-chief: Krishna Prasad Website: www.outlookindia.com

Outlook is a weekly general interest English news magazine owned by the Raheja group and published in India. It features contents from politics, sports, cinema, and stories of broad interests. It was first issued in October, 1995 with Vinod Mehta as the Editor in Chief. Frequency- Weekly Format- 195*273 mm Price- INR 40 Binding- Center Pinned No. of Pages- 116 (approx)

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

Stepping into the Readersâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; Shoes

Special Issue Slug

Infographic

WHAT WORKS

WHAT DOESN’T WORKS

The magazine with its clear visual structure is very easy to navigate. The lesser number of ads implies that there are lesser visual breaks.

One of the drawbacks of the design is that there is too much typographic variation within one article. This variation is superfluous and can be avoided for a more refined visual flow.

Story Head

Byline Story Strap

VISUAL LANGUAGE The Outlook has a rather relaxed visual language with fewer elements on page. Unlike some of its other contemporaries, the magazine does not have an overload of advertisements and as a result has a number of articles which enjoy full spreads without sharing their space with commercial content. The contrast between elements on page is unambiguous and the overall tone ‘loud and clear’. In terms of color palette, the design sticks to classic scheme of black text on white paper with red accents. COLOUR PALETTE

GRID

TYPOGRAPHY

FEATURES

IMAGERY

The Outlook magazine follows a 12-column basic grid which is used in variations of 2, 3 and 4 column layouts according to the requirement of different sections. The gutter space is airy.

The magazine follows a classic typographic scheme with sans-serif for headers and serif for body copy. In the body text, the paragraphs are set in justified text. The design uses type weight to create emphasis.

Visual Slugs- Special issues of the magazine have special slugs depicting the theme of the issue that are then used as running heads throughout that issue. Pull Quote- Since the content of the magazine is based on arguments and opinions, a great emphasis is laid upon the pull quotes, highlighted by color, typography and placement.

The magazine has some very beautiful photography to boast. Most of these photographs are laid out in appropriate sizes based on the quality of images. However, unlike some of the other magazines, the Outlook gives precedence to content over aesthetic and unapologetically uses even mediocre photographs if they are adding value to the content of the article.

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

Open

Publisher: Open Media Network Editor-in-chief: S Prasannarajan Website: www.openthemagazine.com

OPEN is an Indian English-language weekly magazine. Founded by Sandipan Deb, former executive editor of Outlook and editor of Financial Express, it was launched on 2 April 2009 in 12 Indian cities. The magazine is the flagship brand of Open Media Network, the media venture of RPG Group. Frequency- Weekly Format- 198*273 mm Price- INR 40 Binding- Section Bound No. of Pages- 92 (approx)

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

Stepping into the Readersâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; Shoes

Section Opener

Photo Caption Pull-Quote

Story Header

Byline

WHAT WORKS

WHAT DOESN’T WORKS

The magazine is the least cluttered and very pleasing to the eye. The typography is exceptionally well utilized and very refined. In terms of production value, Open trumps all its contemporaries with high-grade paper, impeccable printing and sturdy binding.

On the other hand, the simplistic approach to design seems to breed visual monotony. With all the sections opening in a similar fashion, a reader may crave for more tonal changes.

Story Strap

VISUAL LANGUAGE Open probably has the cleanest and most minimal visual language amongst all its Indian contemporaries. Throughout the magazine, the white space has been ingeniously exploited to lend breathing space to lengthy pieces and to break the general monotony of the consistent grid structure. Overall, the visual language is bold and assertive yet very contemporary. The color scheme used is a classic white and black with the red as the accent color. COLOUR PALETTE

GRID

TYPOGRAPHY

FEATURES

IMAGERY

The Open magazine follows a 12-column basic grid which is used in variations of 2, 3 and 4 column layouts according to the requirement of different sections. A unique feature is the use of columns of varying thickness within one layout.

The magazine follows a high contrast typographic scheme with chunky and bold sans-serif for headers and serif for body copy. In certain sections of the magazine, the serif face is used in the headers as well to depict distinction. In the body text, the paragraphs are set in justified text. The design uses type weight to create emphasis.

Section Openers- Open follows a standardized graphical treatment for all its section openers. Varying Column Width- The shift in column width within one spread is unique to the design of Open.

Just like the rest of its design, the magazine displays a very sensitive eye to the imagery used in the articles as well. It is very hard to find even a single example reflecting compromise with the contextual and/or aesthetic quality of the images. The use of illustration is however rare in this magazine.

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

The Week

Publisher: Malayala Manorama Press Managing Editor: Philip Mathew Website: www.theweek.in

The Week is an Indian weekly news-magazine published by The Malayala Manorama Co. Ltd. The magazine is published from Kochi and is currently printed in Delhi, Mumbai, Bangalore and Kottayam. According to the Audit Bureau of Circulations, it is the largest selling English news-weekly magazine in India. Frequency- Weekly Format- 185*260 mm Price- INR 35 Binding- Center Pinned No. of Pages- 116 (approx)

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

Stepping into the Readersâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; Shoes

Page Number

Pull-Quote

Section Header

WHAT WORKS

WHAT DOESN’T WORKS

At no point in the publication does the layout interfere with the reading. The visual pattern is in a way predictable with a reasonable amount of new elements which gives the magazine a comforting appeal.

The design takes its obsession with graphic elements to an extent where it poses a threat of inconsistency with the overall visual language of the publication. Certain pages of the magazine can feel like they don’t belong to the same title.

VISUAL LANGUAGE The Week is possibly one of the most popular titles amongst its contemporaries. In terms of content, the magazine offers a wide range of flavors to its readers, from hardcore political issues to special features on leisure and lifestyle. Even with their design, the magazine tries to keep its gamut wide. There is a diverse range of visual treatments across the publication, from classic photography to photomanipulation and hand-drawn illustrations. These added elements are supported by a basic grid structure that uses the white-black-red color scheme. One of the most stark elements on page are the page-numbers which are highlighted by color. COLOUR PALETTE

GRID

TYPOGRAPHY

FEATURES

IMAGERY

Like most of its contemporaries, The Week also follows a 12-column basic grid which is used in variations of 2, 3 column layouts according to the requirement of different sections.

The magazine has a bold yet relaxed style of typography. This makes the content seem less intimidating without taking away from the seriousness of the subject matter. Although, the main sections only use red and black in text, the special features use a whole range of colors. The pull-quotes are primarily highlighted by virtue of type-weight.

Leisure Reading- The Week has an extensive section at the back exclusively dedicated to lighter reads on lifestyle, literature and popculture etc

Although, the magazine doesn’t have a very distinct style of using or treating its photographs, the overall visual content in the publication is very high. This ranges from caricatures, cartoons, info-graphics, illustrations and photography etc.

Graphic Elements- The magazine favors the use of graphic elements even in its more regular and serious pieces.

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

#contentanalysis

This exercise was interesting since I was required to simultaneously play the role of a reader as well as that of a designer.

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

THE CARAVAN: DESIGN AUDIT After a thorough study of competition in the market, I decided to focus on structural deconstruction of The Caravan. This was an important step in understanding the flow of information, reading experience and visual drawbacks that are part of the current design of the magazine. This exercise was interesting since I was required to simultaneously play the role of a reader as well as that of a designer.

Frequency- Monthly

Format- 210*270 mm

In the consumer segment of Indian magazine publishing, most of the popular titles in sociopolitical journalism have a weekly frequency while The Caravan is a monthly magazine. Also unlike the general trend, the magazine doesn’t focus on current affairs and rather invests its efforts into reporting ‘development of events’.

The Caravan is as wide as an A4 but slightly shorter in height. Being close to a standardized size, this format is easy to produce/stack. The publication is relatively larger in size than most other Indian political magazines. Being a wide rectangle also makes it a comfortable size to hold and read as well as design.

For this purpose I decided to follow a macroto-micro approach similar to the one I followed with the contemporaries. Beginning with understanding the overall visual personality of the magazine, I proceeded to dig deeper into studying the smaller elements that build up this personality. While observing the design and flow of contents, I simultaneously made notes on what seemed to be working and what did not. This gave me a handy reference to work with when I began designing.

Cost- INR 75

Paper- 70 gsm

While most Indian magazines in this sector are priced at RS 35-40 on an average, The Caravan is definitely of the costlier titles. However, its frequency and the depth of reporting compensate for this difference in cost.

The Caravan is printed on 70 gsm newsprint matt coated stock. However, lately the magazine has been using an uncoated stock which makes the photographs appear darker by absorbing more ink in comparison to the coated variety. In terms of look and feel, uncoatted paper gives the magazine look a rather ‘literary’ and ‘serious’ appearance which is more like a journal less like a magazine.

Stepping into the Readers’ Shoes

Binding- Perfect Binding Number of Pages- 116-120 (approx)

210 mm

CARAVAN THE

270 mm

Nameplate is set in Didot bold and is the most prominent element on page, emphasized by virtue of both size and position

Visual Language and Imagery

Dateline is placed at the top of page for better visibility on the stand

Each new cover must be different from the previous issue but still familiar and recognizable to regular readers Most of the main reportage pieces in The Caravan are ‘profile’ oriented and in keeping with that the cover image is usually a high quality portrait of the protagonist. In case of certain ‘off-beat’ or complex pieces, the magazine runs illustrated covers which may have hand-drawn/ digital illustrations or photo-manipulated artworks purely based on the requirement of the story.

Tag line pitches The Caravan as ‘A Journal of Politics and Culture’ Price is placed right at the top of page for better visibility on the stand

The Black Band is simply a graphic element that has over time become a characteristic feature of The Caravan cover

Special Issues Every summer The Caravan publishes a special issue called ‘The Culture Issue’ which only runs articles with a cultural theme . The covers of The Culture Issue are very different from the rest in the sense that they do not depict the cover story but rather illustrate the notion of ‘audience’ or ‘spectator’.

Cover Image is used to illustrate the main story and tell the reader at a glance what’s inside. The Caravan mainly uses singular images in full bleed on the cover

Cover Story Header is the second most prominent element on the cover page after the nameplate. Often this header is reworded strategically to make it more captivating for the newsstand and may not be the same as the actual article header.

Cover Story Strap is snappy and aims to communicate the essence of the cover story to a reader in a nutshell

Story Lines are featured at the footer of the page. In addition to the main story, each issue highlights three pieces.

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

Content Structure & Flatplan

Fig. 1

Like most modern magazines, The Caravan too is divided into three main sections; Front of the Book (FoB), The Well and Back of the Book (BoB). Each of these three main sections is then further divided into subsections. Thematically there is a subtle shift of subject matter from the FoB to the Well of the magazine, while the BoB is distinctly different from the other two sections.

THE CARAVAN

spent several days discussing in detail the motivations and constraints that define each section with the respective section editors. From that point on my energy was focused on finding the best viable way of highlighting these tonal differences between the three sections while still building a more cohesive sense of identity overall.

Cover Page Contents Page Contributors Page

WHAT IS A FLATPLAN? The Caravan strategically distributes its articles across the magazine. The pieces are sequenced by format and nature; the shorter, quirkier stories are placed up front, then the long reportage pieces followed by the photo essay, in the middle and finally, the lighter, more laid back content is put at the back. This structure is better explained in figure 1. It is important to note that in this project, the restructuring of the content had already been done by the editorial team before I joined the team and altering the structure was not my prerogative. My job was to find the optimum visual direction to enhance the reading experience. Naturally, understanding the breakup of content was perhaps the most crucial when it came to designing the magazine. I

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

Stepping into the Readers’ Shoes

A flatplan is nothing more than a diagram of thumbnail pages in which each story is represented by the number of pages (thumbs) it consists. Each section is given a specific color which helps the team to get an overview of the tone of the magazine. Ad pages are also included and it is advisable to color them differently from the editorial part of the magazine so that they can be recognizable as such. The design team uses a flatplan to arrange layouts and pages in a rhythmic way so that the magazine has a desirable flow. Another commonly used term for the process of laying out the sections of a publication in this manner is ‘pagination’. The facing page shows the revised flatplan of The Caravan which I started working on initially.

FoB

Commentary

The Lede + Letters

Well

BoB

Cover Story

Review

Reportage (Ii)

Fiction & Poetry

Photo Essay

Book Shelf Artists at Work

Cover Page

The Lede (Letters)

Contents

Commentary

Contributors

Strip AD

Contents

Commentary

The Lede

Commentary

The Lede

Reportage 1 (Cover Story)

Commentary

The Lede (Letters)

Reportage 1 (Cover Story)

Strip AD 17

Reportage 1 (Cover Story)

Photo Essay

Review (Book)

113

114

101

100

Fiction & Poetry

Review (Book)

116

117

118

Artists at Work

119

120

121

107

122

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

108

Review (Film)

109

110

Back Cover

123

Review (Film)

106

Editor’s Pick

Review (Art)

Review (Film)

105

104

Artists at Work

BookShelf

115

Review (Book)

103

102

Review (Art)

Photo Essay

Reportage 2

Photo Essay

Review (Book)

Fiction & Poetry

112

Review (Art)

Photo Essay

Reportage 2

Reportage 1 (Cover Story)

Reportage 2

Reportage 1 (Cover Story)

Reportage 2

Reportage 1 (Cover Story)

124

Graduation Project 2015

111

The Grid & its Use

In graphic design, a grid is a series of vertical and horizontal lines that are used to subdivide a page into margins and columns. These subdivisions form the basis of a modular and systematic approach to the layout, particularly for multipage publications, making the design process quicker, and ensuring visual consistency between related pages. The Caravan uses a fundamental 12 column grid structure. Figure 2 shows the unit specifications of the grid used in the magazine. A 12 column grid is generally a popular choice for most magazines since it provides a fair range of modularity. In case of The Caravan, however, all the sections use a two-column layout with each column being 6 grid units wide. This is better depicted in figure 3.

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

Stepping into the Readersâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; Shoes

Some of the most important elements that define a grid are as follows: Margins: Any deliberately unprinted space on a page, especially surrounding a block of text. Margins are used not only to aid in the aesthetics and the readability of a page, but also to provide allowances for trimming, binding, and other post-press operations. Columns: a vertical division of space which assists in a vertical arrangement of items printed or written on a page. Based on the aesthetic and functional preference of a publication, the text in these columns maybe aligned to the left/right or forced justified. Gutter: The space between columns of type.

Baseline Grid: Spaced according to the leading of the type, a baseline grid essentially aligns all the text to a vertical grid where the bottom of each letter is positioned onto the grid, just like writing on lined paper. F-height Grid: Almost like a second baseline grid, the f-height grid aides in aligning the top edge of photographs to a neighbouring block of text. The distance of this grid is defined based on the height of the lowercase f when resting on the baseline.

Number of Columns- 12 Gutter- 9 mm Text Column Width- 85.55 mm Margins Inside: 15.75 mm Outside: 14.25 mm Top: 20 mm Bottom: 18 mm Baseline- 11.339 pt

Fig. 3

Usage of Grid

420 mm

20 mm

9 mm

20 mm

9 mm

14.25 mm

15.75 mm

14.25 mm

Front of Book

270 mm

The Well

14.25 mm

15.75 mm

18 mm

85.55 mm

18 mm

Back of Book

Pupul Bisht 路 UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

Typography & Page Elements

Serifa (Black75)

Fig. 4

Personally, closely studying the typographic practices and page elements in use helped me better understand the fundamental functional and aesthetic issues that were a part of the design. As shown in figure 4 here, The Caravan exploits a large variation of typographic styles within one story. Figure 5 in the facing page explains the key page elements that are part of the magazine. Most of these elements are common practice in modern magazine publishing.

for slugs TRICKS OF THE TRADE

Utopia

for story headers, story strap and byline

Mercury Text (Roman)

used for dropcaps. The pieces in the well section begin with a sans-serif dropcap set in Gotham.

Gotham (Bold)

used for folio

Stepping into the Readers’ Shoes

Utopia (Italics)

Divine Tongues Madrasa students ﬁnd a niche in the job market GAGANDEEP KAUR

Mercury Text (Roman)

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

THE LEDE

Gotham (Bold)

hen Mohammad Arif, a 26-year-old master’s candidate in Arabic at Jawaharlal Nehru University, graduated from Madrasa Taleem-ul-Quran in south Delhi a decade ago, his career prospects seemed dim. After years of religious education, and without having studied subjects such as economics or the sciences, he had few lucrative skills. Like many of his peers, he seemed destined to pursue either teaching in a madrasa as a maulana, or preaching at a mosque as an imam. He did neither. When we spoke on the phone in early September, Arif was sure he would make a good living as an Arabic-to-English translator. “Medium of lecture has always been Urdu at madrasas, but Arabic is also taught. It gives us a unique advantage because no other community understands or is even interested in this language.” A recent study of global business patterns by a multinational bank valued India’s rapidly growing trade with West Asia and North Africa at $135 billion in 2012, up from just $2 billion in 2000. Arab countries are also among the top sources of patients for India’s medical tourism industry, which is estimated to grow to a worth of $3.9 million this year. These deepening ties are fuelling demand for Arabic language skills, and madrasa students are ﬁlling the niche. And, since English classes were ﬁrst introduced in some progressive madrasas in 2007, their potential as translators has only risen further. At a café in central Delhi on a Sunday afternoon, I met Ghulam Rasool Dehlvi, a journalist and Islamic scholar, clad in a black kurta and white pyjama. Dehlvi is also an advisor to a madrasa in the Okhla neighbourhood. “The linguistic skills of madrasa students are empowering them,” Dehlvi said. “There is a perceptible boom in the job options … be it translation, interpretation or as facilitators for patients from the Middle East.” Dehlvi has done such work himself. “I got a chance to work as an HR person some time back only because of my expertise in Arabic,” he said in an extremely soft but clear voice. “It was an Arabic BPO”—business process outsourcing company—“and I was paid R70,000 to R80,000

08 | THE CARAVAN | NOVEMBER 2014

SAJJAD HUSSAIN / AFP / GETTY IMAGES

The elements of a magazine page are important to know, so that when one creates a magazine he/she understands some of the key design issues involved. In addition to defining the visual identity of the design, page elements play a crucial role in defining the navigation path and entry points for readers.

each section of the magazine uses a distinct typeface for its headers. While The Lede uses Serifa, Perspective and Well use Utopia and Gotham respectively.

Translation work offers new career options to madrasa students, many of whom train to become imams or maulanas.

per month.” There are no fixed rates for translation, but Syed Abban, a professional translator who has been in the business for ten years, told me written work pays from $30 to $50 per page, and comes to him from a variety of multinational companies. By contrast, Dehlvi told me, teachers’ salaries usually start at R30,000 per month in madrasas that receive funding from state governments, and between R5,000 and R10,000 at those that, like most in India, don’t. I visited Madrasa Taleem-ul-Quran, which now has regular English classes, in the first week of September. I was welcomed into the all-male domain by Maulana Mohammad Qasim Rahimi, the institution’s founder and head administrator. Dressed in pristine white, and with a matching beard, he patiently explained the institution’s workings to me. He also highlighted the career options now open to the students, and stressed that the introduction of English has been a real boost. Even so, becoming a translator still often requires significant additional effort. Later, I spoke on the phone to Abban, who a madrasa graduate with masters in both Urdu and Arabic. Abban told me he has translated for clients including IBM and the Central Bureau of Investigation. “I got the basic knowledge of English at a madrasa,” he told me, but added that he had to study a lot on his own to be able to translate and interpret professionally. Some hope that the new opportunities created by the introduction of English will now encourage further expansion of madrasa curricula. Dehlvi, when we spoke, seemed cautiously optimistic. “These are signs of change, of course,” he said, “but a lot remains to be done.” s

Gotham (Bold)

Mercury Text (Bold)

used for photocaptions

Mercury Text (Roman)

used for body text

Section Header indicated the beginning of the section and are the most dominant visual element on page.

Story Head also known as headline, is an important textual element on a page and can vary in size depending on the importance of the article

Running Head are navigation elements that guide the reader by indicating chapter and/ or story.

Graphical Elements are used as visual identifiers to the sections. They usually appear with the section head and depict the essence of the section metaphorically

Fig. 5 PERSPECTIVES

PERSPECTIVES

Perspectives Image could be an illustration or photograph visually supporting the content of the article.

JUSTICE RELAYED

Byline carries the article credits. Treatment of byline is determined by the importance of the authors and photographers that worked on the article

Folio generally contain the magazine’s name and issue date in addition to the page number.

The long road to Jayalalithaa’s conviction for corruption SUGATA SRINIVASARAJU

n 1 October 2014, the Vellore municipal council passed a resolution against John Michael Cunha, the judge who presided over the Special Court in Bangalore which sent Jayalalithaa Jayaram to jail in late September. In the resolution, the council claimed to be confounded by a mere mortal’s daring to arrogate himself powers to punish a goddess. Getting Jayalalithaa—the de facto supreme leader of Tamil Nadu’s ruling All India Anna Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam—to cooperate with the court may certainly have seemed to her prosecutors like setting human will against superhuman. Charges in the case, which alleged misuse of her ofﬁce to acquire assets worth R66.65 crore, were framed in 1997. The trial, which culminated dramatically last month in a conviction, a rejected bail plea and a suspended sentence, lasted 18 years, over ten of those in the Bangalore Special Court. Cunha’s judgement, which runs to over a thousand pages, made it clear that the delay was caused mostly by impediments that Jayalalithaa created at every stage of the trial. The trial ought to have stood as an exemplar of how to bring the powerful to justice. Jayalalithaa is the only sitting chief minister in India’s history against whom a conviction for corruption has been delivered; even the former chief minister of Bihar, Lalu Prasad Yadav, found guilty in September 2013 for his role in one of the major cases related to the fodder scam, had been out of power for several years at the time of his conviction. In reality, achieving a result took an extraordinary combination of individual and institutional perseverance, helped along by a dogged political opposition. “It is borne out from the records that, after the trial resumed before this court, the accused moved applications after applications before this court at every stage of the proceedings,” Cunha wrote. By purportedly exercising her right to a free and fair trial, “virtually every order passed by this court was carried in appeal or revision to the High Court of Karnataka and then to the Supreme Court of India resulting in considerable delay.” Jayalalithaa inordinately stretched the provisions of appeal that a court of law allows any accused. She registered hundreds of objections to the proceedings; as many as two

hundred of these were filed on her behalf between 2005 and 2013 alone, according to BV Acharya, the Special Public Prosecutor leading the prosecution during that period. All of these applications went all the way to the Supreme Court only to be dismissed, or granted partial relief in a few instances. Jayalalithaa was notably dissatisfied by complications arising from a language barrier: many of the documents produced before the Special Court were originally in Tamil, and required translations into English after the case was moved from Chennai to Bengaluru in 2003: by repeatedly complaining of inaccurate translations, Jayalalithaa was able to delay her case considerably. “The translation work was completed by 2005 and the copies of the English translation of the deposition and the exhibits were furnished” to Jayalalithaa in March that year, Cunha wrote. In July 2010, the SPP, Acharya, sought to recall 45 witnesses for cross-examination. But “A-1”— Jayalalithaa—“filed an application in I.A-No. 396,” Cunha wrote, “seeking to scrap the English translations of the depositions of all the witnesses and to hold a de novo translation by summoning all the witnesses before the court.” It had taken the court over a year to get the documents translated by a team of twenty assistant professors and lecturers. (The Supreme Court turned down the request, having found no reasonable grounds to order a fresh translation.) Getting Jayalalithaa to appear before the Special Court in Bangalore was itself a humungous task. When summoned, she often meandered to the Supreme Court instead, in order to express an inability to attend hearings. Once, she cited work exigencies; at another time, she claimed her security detail was inadequate. In December 2011, Jaya-

The trial ought to have stood as an exemplar of how to bring the powerful to justice. In reality, achieving a result took an extraordinary combination of individual and institutional perseverance.

ARUN SANKAR K / AP PHOTO

Story Strap also known as kicker or deck, carries a brief introduction to the story

Jayalalithaa is the only sitting chief minister in the country’s history against whom a conviction for corruption has been delivered.

lalithaa did attend hearings, having received the Supreme Court’s assurances of her security, when the SPP wanted to record the statements of the first accused. After two days of attending court, she stopped, claiming that the apex court had asked her to be present for that duration only, and no longer—requiring the Supreme Court to intervene once again, to order her to complete the legal exercise. This exceptional resistance required, in turn, exceptional legal precision and perseverance to conduct the case. At one point in the trial, Jayalalithaa was required to answer over 1,900 questions over a period of four days. (Her responses to most of them, unsurprisingly, were staccato and clipped; the court noted in rare cases, however, that a response might be more “argumentative in nature than denial.”) The SPP was a key figure in undoing some of the case’s most crucial procedural wangles, before he was required to step down due to an objection made by Jayalalithaa’s defence over his continuing to hold the SPP’s post after he was appointed Advocate General of Karnataka in 2011. However, a senior lawyer said that Acharya’s stepping down was also due to consistent efforts to implicate and harass him in matters pertaining to his other social and professional involvements. Some of the most crucial interventions made by presiding judges were marked by a sense of impatience. BM Mallikarjunaiah, the third of the five judges who presided over the trial at the Special Court, was responsible for summoning Jayalalithaa to court; he was also the judge who facilitated

Acharya in asking her over 1,900 questions over four days. Cunha, in his turn, found the slew of applications, interlocutory applications and special leave petitions that delayed the trial akin to speed breakers: “Is this a criminal court or an adjournment court?” he asked at one point during the trial. “This case has been on for years, but the number of days it has been adjourned far outweighs the days some purposeful deliberation has taken place.” Throughout, Jayalalithaa’s political opposition was as staunch as it was varied. Charges against her were first filed by the BJP leader Subramanian Swamy; over the years, rumours persisted of the involvement of powerful Congress leaders behind the scenes of her prosecution. But some the most important work of public opposition to her was done through the AIADMK’s rival Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam, particularly K Anbazhagan, the 91-year-old general secretary of the party and a legal expert in his own right. After Jayalalithaa came back to power in Tamil Nadu in the 2002 elections, the case seemed to be in danger of significant weakening: 79 of the 259 witnesses, many of them government officials, altered their stances once Jayalalithaa took office as chief minister. At this juncture, Anbazhagan moved the Supreme Court to have the case shifted to the neighbouring state of Karnataka, citing grave doubts over the fairness of the trial in Tamil Nadu. Over the years, he watched the proceedings in Bangalore closely, intervening whenever he felt the case s

22 | THE CARAVAN | NOVEMBER 2014

NOVEMBER 2014 | THE CARAVAN | 23

Pull Quotes can be taken out directly from the body text or they can be summarized excerpts They fall under the broad category of points of entry— call-out text that invites the reader into the story.

Image Caption is tightly formatted and carries supporting information to help make the image meaningful to the reader.

End Mark is often a small circle or square or other graphic image that indicates the end of an article.

Body Most text in a magazine is in a single size, style and leading referred to as body or text.

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

Front of the Book

THE LEDE In common journalistic language today, Lede refers to the introductory section of a news story that is intended to entice the reader a deliberate misspelling of lead to read the full story. The first section of The Caravan is called The Lede and is perhaps the quirkiest section of the magazine. While still sticking to narrative writing Lede features articles with an eclectic subject matter. Mostly one or two pages long, these articles range between 700—1250 words. A previously independent section called ‘Letters From’ has now been merged into The Lede. These pieces carry dispatches sent in by correspondents offering a unique perspective into happenings of various places around the country and the world.

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

Stepping into the Readers’ Shoes

PERSPECTIVES The second chapter of the magazine, Perspectives provides a perfect transitional buffer between the quirky Lede and the hardcore Reportage of The Caravan. Featuring mid-length stories, this section usually carries 3â&#x20AC;&#x201D;4 well articulated pieces presenting an analysis with an element of opinion or argumentation. Each month the perspective section takes a close look at the issues and ideas in the news from politics to business to culture. These are sharply written essays that go well beyond the pontification of the average opinion piece to offer sophisticated analysis of the big subjects in Indian life today.

Pupul Bisht Âˇ UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

The Well

REPORTAGE Narrative journalism is at the heart of every issue of The Caravan, and nowhere more than in the major reported pieces and essays published each month. The product of months of reporting, research, writing and editing, the cover stories and long features provide unparalleled insight into the key issues of the present and the forgotten dramas of the past while rejecting the dry recitation of facts and figures. Written with style and verve and narrated with pace and tension these stories go beyond the headlines and boldfaced names to bring the reader face to face with the characters and conflicts that define India and the world today. The magazine doesn’t just cover the big stories whether it’s the Commonwealth Games fiasco ,the insurgency in Kashmir, or the impact of NREGA, it brings to the reader searing narratives and brilliant essays, from Fatima Bhutto’s account of her father’s murder to Ramchandra Guha’s history of the Congress Party.

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

Stepping into the Readers’ Shoes

PHOTO ESSAY The Caravan’s commitment to the art of narrative reporting extends from words into pictures. The magazine is one of the few Indian magazines to devote substantial space to visual storytelling in photo essays by some of the worlds finest photographers including Christopher Morris, Marco Vernaschi and Antonin Kratochvil. From the forest camp of naxalite fighters to the backfield of the Congo, the refugees of Bangladesh and the dance floor of Moscow, these photo essays are great pieces of reporting in their own right taking readers to places where they would never dream of setting foot.

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

Back of the the Book

BOOKS The Caravanâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Books pages take a radically different approach to every other Indian news magazine. No other Publication of this kind devotes as much space to books. While review coverage in other magazines now crams smaller reviews into ever-fewer pages, The Caravan publishes substantial review essays each month, giving deep and serious attention to works of particular merit and distinction to bring readers new insight into todays most important books.

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

Stepping into the Readersâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; Shoes

ART & REVIEWS The Art section goes beyond Bollywood and Bhangra to explore the diverse cultural landscape across India and the region, delving into topics, trends and issues that other mainstream magazines have routinely ignored. In the carefully structured narrative and insightful works of criticism, the magazine works to widen the scope of appreciation and challenge the conventional understanding of what art means in India

Pupul Bisht 路 UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

FICTION & POETRY

BOOKSHELF

The Caravan provides the only serious venue among Indian periodicals for new works of fiction and poetry. Whether by debut authors or major names, the literature published in The Caravan has already found a global readership and earned the magazine a reputation as a place to spot new talent and to see some of the best literary writing produced in South Asia.

The Bookshelf section in the back pages of The Caravan is the least content heavy section of the magazine yet highly popular. Each month, the magazine diligently prepares an eclectic list of the must-read-books, with genres ranging from non-fiction to graphic novels. Being a magazine that boasts of an illustrious editorial panel, the literary opinion of The Caravan is particularly valued by the readers.

Stepping into the Readersâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; Shoes

SHOWCASE

EDITOR’S PICK

The Showcase section is a round up of all the cultural events in the country and the world. Essentially serving the function of an events calendar, this section is an attempt by the magazine to make relevant recommendations that their readers may appreciate. While curating content for this section, the editors are sensitive to the tastes and preference of their loyal readership.

Unlike most mainstream magazines which begin with a ‘Letter from the Editor’, The Caravan reserves the interaction with its editor for the end. The last page of the magazine is dedicated to the ‘Editor’s Pick’, a section where the editor comments and muses about a variety of subject without any imposed restrictions on the content matter.

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

#whattochange

Having a list of drawbacks of the previous design prior to beginning my explorations, helped me stay conscious of the core issues that needed attention.

OBSERVATIONS & INFERENCES After studying the magazine for what is was and understanding the first level of its design and content, it was time to get my design thinking cap on and focus on finer details. An in depth analysis into the structural as well as visual issues of the magazine helped me jot down some very distinct points of focus. Having a list of drawbacks of the previous design prior to beginning my explorations, helped me stay conscious of the core issues that needed attention. The following are some of the key concerns that emerged during the analysis.

MASTHEAD LOOKS DATED The masthead set in Didot looks elegant and straightforward. It also compliments the ‘wisdom’ associated with a magazine that is almost 8 decades old. However, given the fact that the magazine now aspires to involve a wider circle of readership, the existing nameplate might come off as intimidating and too serious to a mainstream Indian reader.

LACK OF COLOUR Colour has not been exploited enough as a visual element in the visual language. In the dearth of any use of colour in typography or any other page elements, the only source of colour in any given spread is photographs. As a result, the spreads of the magazine which do not carry any image end up looking like a journal/ textbook. MONOTONOUS USE OF GRID Throughout the magazine, a constant two column layout is followed for all the articles irrespective of length and content. Though a two column grid is more comfortable to read in a lengthy piece, mixing up the number of columns for shorter articles might help break the monotony and attract the casual reader.

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

Stepping into the Readers’ Shoes

THE

LEDE

left: In the ancient city’s heyday, tanks such as the pushkarini at Hampi’s Vittala temple complex served a population of half a million.

tives

Divine Tongues

USTICE RELAYED

hose in the which runs e delay was a created at

r of how to he only sithom a conthe former nd guilty in

BOOKS

SAJJAD HUSSAIN / AFP / GETTY IMAGES

Flow of Time

ONLY ORDINARY MEN TRISHA GUPTA

OUT AND ABOUT

Wall Posts The child reporters of Odisha VIVEKANANDA NEMANA and ANKITA RAO

utside every classroom in Kasturba Gandhi Balika Vidhyalaya, a government-run residential girls’ school in the tribal village of Aligaon, is a bulletin board with pages and pages of news from the area. There are stories on alcoholism, failing government programmes, and the harsh realities of life here, deep inside Odisha’s impoverished Koraput district. But these are not stories from major national or state newspapers, or local media organisations. They are produced by a group of students at the school who are part of Odisha’s Child Reporters programme. On a sunny Tuesday in August, Santakar Chelapila—a 46-year-old, ever-smiling Koraput native and freelance journalist—walked into a classroom at the school to check on the young journalists. The girls stood up to greet him, and he started asking what they’d been writing about. The answers ranged from homework woes to a village’s difficulty accessing clean drinking water. Chelapila, alongside a small group of socially conscious citizens, started training a handful of Koraput students in the basics of journalism and posting their stories on school walls in 2004. The idea soon attracted support from UNICEF, and the Child Reporters programme was formally launched the following year. Volunteers trained a hundred children, and asked them to write every day in special notebooks. “At first, they wrote about school,” Chelapila said, “but then they dove into the bigger social issues.” Soon selected stories were also being published in a bi-monthly magazine called Ankurodgam—roughly, “the sprouting of the seed”—distributed to parents, district officials and jour-

THE LEDE

nalists. The project grew, and by 2007 it involved over five thousand children in 539 schools, whose best contributions were published in a monthly inset, edited by children, in Anupam Bharat, one of Odisha’s leading vernacular dailies. TRICKS OF THE TRADE In 2012, the Odisha government adopted the Child Reporters programme, mandating that all government schools in the state incorporate it into their curricula. Such high-level Madrasa students find a niche endorsement should have meant a triumph, but the state’s in the job market funding for the expanded project proved insufficient, and GAGANDEEP KAUR in keeping with its policy UNICEF withdrew its support for hen Mohammad Arif, a 26-year-old what was now a government programme. The project demaster’s candidate in Arabic at Jawaclined. Earlier publishing arrangements fell through, and University, graduated harlal Nehru from Most Madrasa Taleem-ul-Quran in stories were again appearing only on school walls. south Delhi a decade ago, his career of Odisha’s schools have yet to implement programme, prospectsthe seemed dim. After years of religious education, and without having Koraput studied subjects such as economics which now survives in only about two hundred or the sciences, he had few lucrative skills. Like many of schools. Chelapila now spends his timehistravelling from school peers, he seemed destined to pursue either teaching in a madrasa associal a maulana, or preaching at a mosque as an to school, fighting to sustain this remarkable experiimam. He did neither. When we spoke on the phone in earment. He remains optimistic, and saidlythat several non-profit September, Arif was sure he would make a good living as an Arabic-to-English translator. “Medium of lecture has groups have expressed interest in helping the programme. always been Urdu at madrasas, but Arabic is also taught. It “As a journalist, I had been expressing I thought gives us awhat unique advantage because no other community understands is even interested and it made me happy,” Chelapila told us. “Iorthought that in this language.” A recent study of global business patterns by a multinaparticularly could also happen with tional children.” HeIndia’s saidrapidly the growing trade with West bank valued Asia and North Africa at $135 billion in 2012, up from just programme encourages children to be curious, confident $2 billion in 2000. Arab countries are also among the top and engaged with their communities,sources and ofalso offers freshmedical tourism industry, patients for India’s which is estimated to grow to a worth of $3.9 million this insights into Odisha’s social challenges. “So we publish year. These deepening ties are fuelling demand for Arabic anything they have to say.” language skills, and madrasa students are filling the niche. And, since English classes were Sitting in a circle in the school’s well-kept gardens, a first introduced in some progressive madrasas in 2007, their potential as translators group of Aligaon students—many of whom come from poor has only risen further. At a families café in central on a Sunday afternoon, I met tribal families, and are the first in their toDelhi attend Ghulam Rasool Dehlvi, a journalist and Islamic scholar, school—told us how they mixed reporting activism. “Ipyjama. Dehlvi is also an clad in awith black kurta and white advisor tomy a madrasa in the Okhla neighbourhood. “The linwrote about the consumption of liquor in village,” Anguistic skills of madrasa students are empowering them,” jana Jani, an eight-grader, told us in breathless Odiya. “We boom in the job options Dehlvi said. “There is a perceptible … be it translation, interpretation or as facilitators for patried to convince people to stop drinking so much alcohol. tients from the Middle East.” At first the villagers didn’t agree, but eventually they startDehlvi has done such work himself. “I got a chance to work as an HR person some time back only because of ed paying attention.” my expertise in Arabic,” he said in an extremely soft but “We saw that these children became much more aware clear voice. “It was an Arabic BPO”—business process outsourcing company—“and I was paid R70,000 to R80,000 of their surroundings and started making changes on their own,” Lalatendu Acharya, a professor at Purdue University 08 | THE CARAVAN | NOVEMBER 2014 who coordinated UNICEF support for Child Reporters, said over Skype. “In one instance, the children took up sanitation in their village. They talked with elders and healthcare providers and actually had toilets built and got the village cleaned.” The project’s supporters claim other successes too. In some cases, Chelapila told us, the work of child reporters has convinced more parents to send their children to school; in one instance, they prompted Koraput district officials to compensate farmers whose crops were destroyed by floods. Among the reporters of Aligaon, the programme has clearly expanded imaginations. The girls take turns reading the daily newspaper that the principal pins to a desk outside his office. “We read it every day to find out what’s happening in the world,” Jani said. “We learn about different things like what happens in the case of an accident, or about the kinds of exploitation that women face.” But the girls aren’t content simply absorbing information. “We want to write like they do in the newspapers,” Jani added. “We can’t stay silent. We want people to be updated and aware of what’s happening around them.” s

Divine Tongues

Translation work offers new career options to madrasa students, many of whom train to become imams or maulanas.

BLAND AND AMBIGUOUS SLUGGING

TYPOGRAPHIC VARIATION

In order to widen readership and compete with the rest of the mainstream contemporaries, The Caravan will have to make serious efforts to break its long standing image of being ‘too literary’ and ‘too serious’. One way of achieving the same may be through bolder and catchier slugging which would allow a casual reader to instantly relate to the stories.

In the current design one will find slab serif, sans serif, serif, all caps, drop caps, small caps, roman, italics, medium, regular and bold, all on the same page! This degree of typographic variation may be undesirable and unnecessarily confusing. The design can definitely benefit from some degree of typographic minimalism.

Students of Kasturba Gandhi Balika Vidhyalaya in Aligaon regularly write dispatches from their villages.

10 | THE CARAVAN | NOVEMBER 2014

THE LIVES AND TIMES OF TWO ACTING GIANTS

And, since English classes were first introduced in some beard, he patiently explained the institution’s workings to eyenIn sores. 1929, an American offered Sigmund year,across Cunhaas wrote. July 2010, the SPP,publisher Acharya, sought progressive madrasas in 2007, their potential as translators me. He also highlighted the career options now open to the And Then Day: A Memoir Freud five-thousand-dollarBut advance to write hisCARAVAN has only risen students, and stressed thatOne the introduction of English has | NOVEMBER to recall 45 witnesses fora further. cross-examination. “A-1”— 12 | THE 2014 At alife café in central Delhi on a Sunday afternoon, I met Shaha translator still often He had published An Autobiobeen a real boost.Naseeruddin Even so, becoming Jayalalithaa—“filed an story. application in already I.A-No. 396,” Cunha Ghulam Rasool Dehlvi,outlining a journalist and scholar, requires significant additional effort. Later, I spoke on the Hamish Hamilton graphical Study, his of professional wrote, “seeking to scrap the English translations theIslamic de- career. clad a black and white Dehlvi is also an phone to Abban,328 whopages, a madrasa R699 graduate with masters in But as forkurta a tell-all memoir, Freud’s response was positions of all theinwitnesses and to hold a depyjama. novo translaadvisor to athe madrasa in thebefore Okhla the neighbourhood. both Urdu and Arabic. Abban told me he has translated for outright dismissal. tion by summoning all witnesses court.” It “The linskillsa of madrasa students are empowering them,” clients including IBM and the Central Bureau of Investigahad taken theguistic court over year to get the documents transDehlvi said. “There iscomplete a perceptible in confession the job options tion. “I got the basic knowledge of English at a madrasa,” he Aofpsychologically and boom honest of lated by a team twenty assistant professors and lectur… life be it... translation, interpretation or as having facilitators patold me, but added that he had to study a lot on his own to be would require so much indiscretion (on myfor part ers. (The Supreme Court turned down the request, tients from able to translate and professionally. The interpret Substance and the Shadow: as well asthe on Middle that of East.” others) about family, friends, and found no reasonable grounds to order a fresh translation.) Dehlvi has done “I itgot chance Some hope that new opportunities created by the An the Autobiography enemies, most of such themwork still himself. alive, that is aout of theto

SAJJAD HUSSAIN / AFP / GETTY IMAGES

THE LEDE

VIVEKANANDA NEMANA

DEEPA PADMANABAN

ly slow, was invariably sensitive to management of resources.” Rao founded his company, Integrated Design, in 1994, as a landscape design firm, but following his interest in sustainable architecture he diversified into site and water management. In Hampi, he eventually joined the project to revive the pushkarini, and helped the ASI fully restore it in 2007. For this, he received the Award of Distinction at the UNESCO Asia-Pacific Awards for Cultural Heritage Conservation in 2010. He now applies KNOW-HOW what he learnt from studying the system at Hampi to numerous projects in India and across the world, including in Libya, Morocco, South Africa, France and China. “Heritage sites such as Hampi should be seen not merely PROBLEMS OFofJUSTIFICATION An architect rediscovers ancient secrets as romantic remains the past but as living labs,” Rao exTRICKS OF THE TRADE plained. “There are hundreds, if not thousands, of historic of water management settlements across the world that have an immense treasury of sustainable practices teach us, if onlyare we are willing to All text blocks in to the magazine justified DEEPA PADMANABAN learn.” Hampi’s water system takes maximum advantage of gives neat and organized itting in his Bangalore office, sporting thewhich lay of the landthe andpages readily aavailable natural materials, Madrasa students find a niche steel-rimmed glasses and a salt-and-pepper ponyandlook. eliminates need forthe piping or ground water reserves. Eventhe though justification is fairly well in the job market tail, 46-year-old Mohan Rao remembered his time Today, for every new project, Rao and his team first survey working in Hampi. In 2002, the Archaeological and doesn’t havevegetation, many visual issues such thedone local landscape, soil and then estimate the GAGANDEEP KAUR Survey of India began conservation work at this requirements of the development in question. They then deas ‘rivers’, there are some drawbacks which are World Heritage site in Karnataka, which was part of the sign a landscape and a sustainable water system, and other hen Mohammad Arif, a 26-year-old capital of the Vijayanagara Empire until its decline in the architects plan buildings and roads around these. hard to ignore. Firstly, in case of The Caravan One of Rao’s successes is Hathi Gaon, or Elephant Vilmaster’s candidate in Arabic atsixteenth Jawa- century and is still an important place of pilgrimwhere most of content comes in age today. Among the structures the ASI team worked on lage, a settlement forthe overlengthy a hundred elephants and their harlal Nehru University, graduated was ainpushkarini, or stepped tank, within the Vittala temple mahouts on the outskirts of Jaipur, Rajasthan. Working in from Madrasa Taleem-ul-Quran at the last minute, the editors usually do not complex—the largest at Hampi. Archaeologists were puza desert climate, Rao’s team created a water system to meet south Delhi a decade ago, his zled career to Jayalalithaa’s conviction for corruption when they failed to drain the pushkarini completely thehave community’s annual of 150 million litres, much time torequirement re-write the copy to iron prospects seemed dim. After years of religious education, even after several days of pumping. How, they wondered, and also revived the area’s ecosystem. He is currently deand without having studied subjects such as economics out issues such hyphenation. Asbuilt a result, had such a large tank been fed, when there was no obviveloping a system for aas new university to be on a delSUGATA SRINIVASARAJU Translation work offers newrecords career options to that madrasa taic plain in Tamil Nadu, where the Cauvery River splinters or the sciences, he had few lucrative skills. Like many of ous water source at hand? Historical showed the justified text has awkward line-breaks the ancient city did not use fromto the nearby Tungbefore joining the Bay of Bengal, that is prone to flooding students, many of water whom train become imams or maulanas. his peers, he seemed destined to pursue either teaching in during monsoon and severe drought the suma madrasa as a maulana, or preaching at a mosqueabhadra as an River except for irrigation. Where, then, did it get andthe frequent hyphenation whichduring may hamper ipal council hundred of these were filed on her behalf between 2005 its water? mer. imam. He did neither. When we spoke on the phone in earper month.” There are no fixed rates for translation, butTo prepare for both these dangers, Rao told me, “we the flow of reading. Moreover, hael Cunha, and 2013 alone, according to BV Acharya, the Special PubAs they searched for an answer, archaeologists uncovlook at the climate history of the regionthe overperfectly the last hunly September, Arif was sure he would make a goodered living Syed Abban, a professional translator who has been in the numerous shallow ponds in the dry and rocky surdred years and use data points of highest floods and lowest ial Court in lic Prosecutor leading the prosecution during that period. rectangle blocks of text are reminiscent as an Arabic-to-English translator. “Medium of lecture has business for could ten years, told me written from rounding hills. But they not understand what work pur- pays rainfall to create sustainable and resilient designs.” He said Jayaram to All of these applications went all the way to the Supreme always been Urdu at madrasas, but Arabic is also taught. $30 to Rao, $50 per and comesand to him from a variety of newspapers pose It these served. an page, environmental landscape he of hopes the system will university’s andeducate add tothe the ‘serious’students ncil claimed Court only to gives be dismissed, or granted partial relief in a few us a unique advantage because no other community architect, was supervising companies. work on Hampi’s gardens. He multinational By contrast, Dehlvi toldabout me, sustainable resource meanagement. to arrogate instances. Jayalalithaa was dissatisfied appearance of the magazine. OUT OF PLACE GRAPHIC INCONSISTENCIES intrigued, and evinced his usually interest.start Working with the to a 2011 census by the Ministry of Water Reunderstands or notably is even ELEMENTS interested in by thiscomplilanguage.” wasTYPOGRAPHIC teachers’ salaries at R30,000 per monthAccording in cations arising A from a language many ofpatterns the docuASI team, hemadrasas realised that pondsfunding were carefully placed sources, the per capita availability of water in India fell by recent study of barrier: global business by a multinathatthe receive from state governments, collect surface run-off water in a series of filtration pits. percent in the decade after 2001, and is expected to dwine leader of ments produced before Special Court weregrowing originally in withtoWest tional bankthe valued India’s rapidly trade and between R5,000 and R10,000 at those that, like 15 most Channels then directed the used filtered rainwater into in the dle further. Rao said that the reliance on constructed, artiAlthough in and a translations serious design language as Drop caps are widely across articles unnetra KaTamil, and required into afterinsuch the case Asia North Africa atEnglish $135 billion 2012, up from just in India, don’t. pushkarini. Tanks such as this provided for about half a ficial water systems “has devalued and often destroyed nattainly have wasThe moved from Chennai tographic Bengaluru in 2003:are by repeat$2 billion 2000. Arab countries also among the top I visited Madrasa Taleem-ul-Quran, reg-systems in urban areas.” Traditional methods of water Caravan, useinof elements would the residents magazine, the variation in size and which style now hasural million in the city’s heyday. will against edly complaining of inaccurate translations, Jayalalithaa sources of patients for India’s medical tourism industry, ularclever English classes, in thenofirst week of September. Imanagement was For Rao, this apparatus was surprise. “Tradican help avert crises, he added, since they are value to the page, the illustrative style ,however, leads to inconsistency inorvisual ged misuse wasadd able to delay her considerably. tional societies, having no recourse to energy mechanical which iscase estimated to grow to a worth of $3.9 million this sustainable, eco-friendly, resilient to climate change and welcomed into the all-male domain by Maulana Mohamdeveloped settlements which were fully integrated crore, were cheap—usually half the price of a modern, piped system. “The translation workdeepening was completed byfuelling 2005 year. These ties demand Arabic madof Qasim the institution’s founder and head adof visual elements currently inare use doesand notthe for systems, continuity the Rahimi, publication. the natural environment,” said when we spoke in a matching The pushkarini at Hampi, now rippling with clear water alramatically copies of the language English translation of the deposition andfilling the thewith skills, and madrasa students are niche. ministrator. Dressedhe in pristine white, and with compliment the over all tone and may come March. “The process of building settlements, being relativemost year-round, is testament to their promise. s and a susexhibits were furnished” to Jayalalithaa in March that

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

04 THE PROCESS

The most rewarding and satisfying design process is sometimes the least linear one. In the case of my project, my process was anything but linear. This is one of the main learnings for me to take away from this project. The deadlines in a real-time industry scenario are often very different from those in a classroom situation. It is mainly due to the fact that unlike in a classroom project where the levels of decision makers is limited to the student and the guide, in this case the decision making was much more complicated with multiple levels of stakeholders. Since the design had to pass through several levels of approval, from the creative team to the editorial team and finally to the managerial team, the process of reaching a consensus was usually a slow one and involved a lot of back and forth. It is also important to note that in The Caravan, even though the process of arriving at a decision was democratic, the final decision always rested with the managing editor and hence sometimes, despite conviction and reason, I had to scrap my design and start from scratch.

But what this experience taught me was, how to manage my time and how to take my own calls. As a design student in NID, I was used to bouncing my ideas off my classmates, seniors, juniors and get quick feedback. The proximity and availability of teachers and mentors on campus also ensured that there were rarely any creative-blocks. But the past five months taught me how to judge my limitations and the efficiency of my design ideas (or output), even when feedback wasn’t readily available. Since the project timeline was tight, it was suggested by my mentor right in the beginning, that we follow an agile method of working. One similar to the method typically followed in UX or IT companies. Just as the name implies, Agile refers to being able to move quickly and easily between stages of the design process. This is in contrast to the traditional waterfall method of working, which is what we mainly follow at design school. In the upcoming section, I will be highlighting the main points of difference between the two methodologies.

Another struggle that came my way in the course of this project was the challenge of working on my own from home. I call this a struggle because I didn’t expect it to be the working arrangement when I took up the project. Keeping myself motivated every single day for five months without much of an external force was challenging to say the least.

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

#designmethodology

More than anything, the agile process emphasizes the production of on-time and on-budget deliverables, not perfection, as the design can always be tweaked down the road.

WATERFALL VS AGILE METHOD Fig. 6

The design process is of utmost importance in design education. During the past four years at NID, over the course of several assignments and classroom projects, we were encouraged to discover our individual process of solving design problems. The traditional methodology that was fundamental to our working at NID was primarily linear (with a reasonable amount of back and fourth) and drew very strongly from the â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Waterfallâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; methodology. This design process is sequential in nature and strives to eliminate risk and uncertainty by following a step by step approach towards problem solving. It is mainly used when the project brief is defined and the requirements do not change during the course of the project. This makes it ideal for classroom scenarios where briefs are often hypothetical and influenced by the studentsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; area of interest. Another benefit of this process is the fact that each step is perfected and completed before the process proceeds to the next step. This is particularly helpful since students are required to pay attention to each stage of the process. The waterfall method focuses on investing time

Redesigning The Caravan The Redesign Caravan Magazine

The Process

in the early stages of the project to ensure that the problem has been understood and deconstructed properly. It then builds design solutions on this strong foundation of context understanding. The Agile method on the other hand lends itself to fast turn around and the dynamic ability to adapt to needed changes or course corrections. Agile mainly relies on producing work in sprints, implementing short, iterative phases that rely on ongoing feedback that continuously reshapes and refine the project path. Speaking strictly in terms of my project, the earlier stages of the process, i.e. information collection and analyses was compressed into a two week exercise due to a shortage of time. From the third week onwards, I began tangible design explorations that were then developed iteration by iteration with feedback from editorial teams, over the course of the following 4 months. In practice, this meant communicating frequently within teams in the second half the project, so that everyone stayed looped in on the development of the redesign. This created a consistent feedback loop that enabled

Fig. 7

me to adjust based on what the editors and sponsors were telling me, while also checking frequently to ensure the design was functional in the environment in which it will ultimately live. More than anything, the agile process emphasizes the production of on-time and on-budget deliverables, not perfection, as the design can always be tweaked down the road. This mostly takes the form of iterative, short, intense periods of production with smaller, more achievable goals that build in further iterations down the road. The traditional design process plays right into a common desire among designers to present only the most perfect products to clients. This begins in the proposal and research phase with overly elaborate PSD mockups and continues to the final approval phase. But for the most complex projects, it really doesn’t make sense to design for weeks if not months in the abstract, completely devoid of client input. As we know all too well, clients often gain a much clearer understanding of what they’re looking for when they see it come together in a tangible form. It also allows them to gain a better understanding of just how the realized vision will operate in a real world context.

At each stage, the design deliverable that was presented to the client, was a complete, functional printed prototype. Each subsequent iteration thereafter was an incremental improvement on the older one. The continuous feedback and discussions helped to build on the design deliverables in an incremental fashion. To this effect, the final design approach that was approved was also to be treated as the first functional prototype of the design solution. Based on the feedback from the market after the initial launch, the design team will spend time further refining and adapting the design to the needs of the consumer. In this way, it would typically take the magazine around 2-3 months to finally shape up its new design template. Even then, the template would not be a sacrosanct one and will continue to respond to consumer feedback and editorial needs.

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

#magazineredesign

Each month a variety of topics are covered within the same issue, this poses a serious challenge for the visual language, which must provide a strong identity to the magazine while still being neutral. Striking a balance between these conflicting parameters is probably the hardest part of a redesign process.

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

MAGAZINE REDESIGN 101 Designing a good and ‘worthy’ publication is more than just layouts and placing text around picture boxes. The overall idea of any magazine is to offer their readers utmost reading satisfaction and the written information and pictures should be able to capture the imagination as well. The writing pattern, formatting, images and layout play a very crucial role in enhancing the overall image and standing of the publication. Redesigning a major publication like a magazine or a newspaper is no cakewalk- it’s hard work. Unlike a book design project, which is usually a one-time job, magazine design has to deal with the complexity of continuity since most magazines are weekly, monthly or quarterly. This means that the designer must design keeping in mind that each month the magazine is going to use the structural template created by him/her to communicate a new set of stories. In the case of a general interest magazine, like The Caravan, the eclectic nature of topics is even more pronounced. Each month a variety of topics are covered within the same issue, this poses a serious challenge for the visual language, which must provide

The Process

a strong identity to the magazine while still being neutral. Striking a balance between these conflicting parameters is probably the hardest part of a redesign process. So how does a publication know it is time for a redesign? In case of most magazine, the call for a design overhaul is a combined result of several factors that add up together. In the case of The Caravan, they had been using the same design for over five years despite making some marked changes in their reporting. Since the time of the redesign in 2010, many team members had joined and left and at present they have an almost entirely new editorial board with a fresh perspective on how they want to push the brand forward. This new brand vision needed to be backed with a fresh take on the design as well. In addition, they recognized that over the years their readership dynamics had evolved mainly due to the introduction of the web in the domain of journalism. Looking at all these issues, the management decided it was clearly time for a complete overhaul. A magazine is a brand that exploits a careful

balance of information and aesthetic to engage with its customer. When one hears about the redesign of a publication, they immediately assume that it has something to do with a new visual appearance. While that is usually the case, it shouldn’t be the only element that gets a makeover. Taking a closer look at the content is important too. Therefore, redesign of The Caravan was done in three phases. The first phase was mainly editorial wherein the need for a change or revision in the content structure and style of writing was reviewed. At this point, the editors deliberated on the ideal ‘menu’ that The Caravan must offer to its readers. In the second phase, the editors met with the designers to discuss the magazine content and format. At the point where I joined the project, the decisions regarding content structure and flow had already been made and the design team was supposed to take the process to one step ahead into the visual domain. I, under the guidance of the art director of the magazine, spent the next 4-5 months exploring the obis directions that the visual language of the magazine could take. This was definitely the longest phase of the project due to the

involvement of several stakeholders. After many back and forth with the editorial and managerial teams, we were finally able to narrow down on a design that everyone was comfortable with. Once the design was ready, we entered the third or the last stage of the project. This was the ‘marketing’ phase which dealt with the issues of planning related to the ‘unveiling’ of the new design. It is important to understand, that the process of introducing a ‘new look’ to a loyal consumer is a sensitive matter. For a monthly magazine with a fairly large circulation, the publication of each new issue involves big money. Hence, the marketing team must carefully strategize the optimal way and time to the launch of the new design. This phase usually sees all teams joining hands to convey the intention and message of the new design to its sponsors as well as the readers in the best way possible. Self-ads announcing the launch, presentations explaining the process etc are all part of this phase. Given the complexity of task at hand, a redesign can take a few months. Time can be

32 The Ugly Truth A hilarious and sarcastic poster about “real” magazine design process created by Stack Magazines America. I chanced upon this gem on a very hectic evening, the night before my first review meeting with the editorial team.

a challenge but this is an even bigger reason not to lose focus. It helps therefore, to align the interest of every team and have a clear vision of what needs to be change and what needs to be retained. This decision making can be streamlined by focusing on the four F’s of magazine design. 1. FORMAT Design choices that span every issue and define a magazine’s overall look and feel determine the format. These include the logo, cover lines, size of the magazine, department headers, and folios. 2. FORMULA The formula sums the magazine’s approach to editorial content. Feature type and length, departments in the front and back of the book, photographic style, and illustrations all contribute to the formula. 3. FRAME The frame is the standard for outer page margins and gutters. Some magazines use the same margin width through the magazines; others vary the width, using tall top margins for

features to set apart the well, for instance. The rule for using margins establishes consistency from issue to issue. 4. FUNCTION The function is, quite simply, what a magazine is trying to achieve and the message it’s trying to send. Function is most definitely the most important of the four F’s. It is the function of a magazine that distinguishes it from its peers on a newsstand. It is the function of the magazine that defines its readership. To that effect, it is safe to say that the ‘function’ guides the decisions on the other three F’s. Breaking down the mammoth task of redesigning a magazine into these 4 steps and having a clear idea of what one wants to achieve in each sphere, anchors the design process. Once outlined, the designer can fall back on these fundamental answers for every decision in the design process, big or small.

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

#casestudies

Looking at the behindâ&#x20AC;&#x201C;theâ&#x20AC;&#x201C; scenes action that was a part of the redesign of some of the big international magazines gave me invaluable insight on the process.

LEARNING BY EXAMPLE: CASE STUDIES Since this was my first shot at magazine design and because for the majority of time I was working on my own, I felt the need to selfeducate myself quite often during the project. Magazine design is a long and systematic process and does require a lot of technical knowledge. The local news stand and the Internet became the most obvious sources of inspiration and information for me. Looking at the behind-the-scenes action that was a part of the redesign of some of the big international magazines gave me invaluable insight on the process. Reading interviews and blogs of legendary designers that were responsible for these redesigns , helped me understand the thought process and tangible concerns that face a designer in such a project. In this section, I have discussed the two magazine redesign case studies that inspired me the most. Even though the ultimate goal of all the projects was similar, each designer/ studio approached the task in their own unique way which made each process refreshing for

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

The Process

the observer. This observation also encourage me to device my own unique plan of action and respond to the concerns that The Caravan was presenting to me, in a more organic fashion rather than a text-book approach to problem solving. With each of these case studies, I found a new lesson to take away. Read on to find out.

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Pupul Bisht 路 UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

The Atlantic

Agency: Pentagram Project Team: Michael Bierut and Luke Hayman, partners-in-charge; Joe Marianek, Ben King. Source: www.new.pentagram.com

The 151-year old general interest magazine The Atlantic is known for championing the “American idea” in all its diversity and for exhibiting a curiosity for topics ranging from politics to design. When Pentagram undertook a redesign of the Atlantic — the eighth in its history — the goal was to establish an intelligent and striking framework for the magazine’s wide-ranging editorial voice. Working with the magazine’s editor James Bennet, publisher Justin Smith, and art director Jason Treat, Pentagram’s Michael Bierut and Luke Hayman embarked on a quest to discover what Bierut called “the right visual analogue for a distinctive editorial voice.” To begin the process, the design team, which also included Joe Marianek and Ben King, looked at the nameplate, the way the magazine’s name appears on the cover. This became a good place to start the design process, as it provided important clues about the publication’s overall direction. The designers considered many possibilities, including dozens that they created a new. In the end, the redesign team came back to a nameplate that was an adaptation of a design that had appeared on the magazine for more

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

The Process

than 35 years in the mid 20th century. The designers weren’t tempted by its nostalgic characteristics; rather, they were struck by how it managed to look both contemporary and timeless. With the nameplate nodding to the magazine’s heritage, the designers were free to try out some very contemporary approaches to the cover. The Atlantic demands a careful balance between intellectual engagement and entertainment, and the challenge with the cover was to navigate a course between the look of an academic journal and a newsweekly. The two fonts that were settled on for the cover provided the necessary mix of ingredients: Mercury, an elegant serif typeface, and Titling Gothic, a bold sans serif. A vertical information band aligned with The Atlantic’s distinctive A on the left of the cover provides a place to highlight important writers and stories for the benefit of subscribers and newsstand browsers. The magazine is now perfect bound for the first time in its history. The magazine’s departments have been substantially restructured. The core of the magazine remains its long features. The two

typefaces of the cover provide the main font families used throughout the magazine, and the balance between ideas and urgency is played out in ways that are surprising and engaging. “In a magazine of ideas, writers depend on words to build their arguments, but we didn’t want The Atlantic’s pages to look like homework,” says Bierut. Pentagram’s redesign set the tone for the design of The Atlantic’s website, which launched last week. The online design also makes use of the serif of the A and the cover’s black band as graphic elements that help brand the site. The magazine is being launched with an innovative advertising campaign with the tagline “Think. Again.” developed by Euro RSCG.

What inspired me: The redesign of an iconic brand like The Atlantic by Pentagram is a great example of holistic brand development built on the backbone of solid design execution. This project was exceptionally challenging since The Atlantic was being given a makeover for the eighth time. With their experience the design team was able to give it a fresh visual identity. I particularly admire the fact that as one flips through the pages of the magazine, there is never a sense of monotony of flatness. Each section of the magazine has been given its unique treatment yet all of them come together to form a coherent whole. With a minimal number of typefaces, the contrast achieved on the pages is remarkable and displays a high degree of design expertise.

33 The Cover Page The Atlantic has been redesigned eight times in its history. 34 Table of Contents The first of the new two-page Table of Contents. The new layout does away with clutter by using lesser text and one big image in the background.

36.1

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

35 Feature A feature by Andrew Sullivan with a portrait by Trey Ratcliffe. The use of typography is simple yet bold and in-your-face in keeping with the piece. 36 Section Opener The feature well begins with a large quote from one of the issue’s stories.

Graduation Project 2015

The New York Times Magazine

Design Director : Gail Bichler Art Director: Matt Willey Source: www.itsnicethat.com

The Times is the leading newspaper in the US and its magazine, The NewYork Times Magazine, is read by nearly four million people every week. The design director Gail Bichler and her new art director Matt Willey have implemented sound exhaustive – redrawn fonts, a redrawn logo, a new approach to lay-outs, a new-look version of the online magazine, in addition to a raft of new features and editorial changes. But both Gail and editor-in-chief Jake Silverstein are adamant that they’ve built on the publication’s 119-year-old legacy, rather than steaming in and ripping up the work of their predecessors. As Jake explains: “We have used the hammer and the tongs but perhaps not the blowtorch; we sought to manufacture a magazine that would be unusual, surprising and original but not wholly unfamiliar.”

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

The Process

It was a multi-platform redesign involving a huge amount of components that went in for an overhaul including redrawing all the fonts, redoing the print edition, redoing the online version of the magazine, redoing the identity. They got a large number of collaborators on board to work on different elements while Gail directed the entire process in order to ensure a cohesive outcome. The team wanted to make a product that felt a bit more literary, a really good reading experience that capitalized on all the things that are great about the magazine in terms of really fantastic photography and great writers. So they decided to look at things which had been part of the magazine’s heritage and brand and things that readers really loved. It was a really interesting challenge because they wanted to make something that is fresh and

new but at the same time the magazine has a really celebrated history. It couldn’t afford to appear as if it were a magazine that launched two weeks ago. The magazine definitely has a design-savvy readership, so there was a certain pressure. The readability and legibility of the writing was placed at the center of the redesign effort and the team went as far as having a new body copy font redrawn to make the experience a memorable one for its readers.

What inspired me: The NewYork Times magazine is one of the leading publications of long-form journalism in the world. Naturally, since the relaunch of The Caravan, The NewYork Times Magazine has been an important source of inspiration for the editors and writers. In that sense, it was crucial to understand the motivation and guiding principles behind the redesign of this particular magazine. This case study made me appreciate the importance of collaboration in design process and also helped me acknowledge the limitations of my situation. Since The Caravan also enjoys a very loyal readership, it was informative to learn how the challenge of familiarity and celebrating the heritage of a publication while still making something fresh and new, was handled by the design team at The NewYork Times Magazine.

37 39

40.1

40.2

37 Typography The new typefaces that were especially designed on commission for the re-design. The new nameplate is just a cleaned-up version of the older one.

39 Contents Page The new contents page pushes the boundaries of minimalism in the main-stream magazine aesthetic and makes a statement.

38 Section Opener The opening spread of a feature story. The use of typography is stark and bold and does not rely on a background image for impact.

40 Inside Pages The redesign carries the minimalism into the interiors of the magazine as well. The message is clear ‘focus on reading’

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

#therealprocess

My experience of working from home, the challenges faced and lessons learned would be in contrast to a classmate who worked in a design studio or a big creative agency. I feel this contrast must be celebrated and understood.

WHAT REALLY HAPPENED: MY 20 WEEKS This being my first elaborate experience of working as a designer in the industry, the past five months were a roller coaster of highs and lows, most of which I hadnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t foreseen when I started the project. As I experienced the process unfold itself in real time, I was sometimes taken by surprise and more often that not I did end up feeling out of control. While at the time it all seemed too overwhelming, today in retrospect I am able to appreciate how every challenge that came my way made me a stronger person and a designer better equipped to respond to problems and hick-ups. I strongly believe that in order to be able to truly understand the project, the reader needs to be familiar with the eventful 20 weeks that made up this journey. The process contributes to the outcome in unexpected ways and to isolate personal experience from the design would be unfair. After all, a graduation project is not just about what was done but also about how one did it and what one learned from it. Since I didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t not work in the same space as my mentor, the project was by default divided into weekly units. At the beginning of every

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

The Process

month, I was expected to come up with a weekly outline-of-tasks to be completed in the upcoming four weeks. At the end of each week (or sometimes a fortnight) I would meet my mentor to discuss the work done over the past week and to discuss the plan of action for the week to follow. For the seven to fifteen days between these review meetings, I was pretty much on my own. This period taught me a lot about time management and decision-making, something I will discuss in greater detail in the last chapter of this document. My experience of working from home, the challenges faced and lessons learned would be in contrast to a classmate who worked in a design studio or a big creative agency. I feel this contrast must be celebrated and understood. It is crucial for young professionals to notice how work-environment can affect quality of output and personal growth. Keeping this in mind, I have decided to give the reader a peak into the real-time process of my project which was marked with bursts of energy, slumps of inaction, quest for motivation and a constant drive to move ahead.

)1 Week one was spent on understanding the context, speaking to the clients and the mentor. Watched ‘The Caravan Story’ to understand the readership of magazine.

)2 Due to time crunch, had to wrap up ‘Information Collection’ in two weeks. Week two was mostly spent on studying competition and the current design.

)3 Started tangible design explorations in week three. The first element explored and designed was the nameplate of the magazine.

)4 After a considerable progress with the nameplate, week four saw the first round of cover page explorations.

)5 Happy with the progress of cover design, we decided to move to the interiors of the magazine. Week five saw the first round of FoB explorations.

Round one yielded Second attempt at FoB, unsatisfactory results. this time incorporating Most of week six was cues and suggestions spent speaking to from interaction with section editors to section editors and Pupul Bisht Graphic team. Design First review understand the nature of · UGdesign content and design meeting with Editor. problem better.

Round three of FoB Post thorough explorations. Fixed a explorations of FoB standard grid for section we decided to uniform structure. move to The Well of Dummy ads were the magazine. Layouts introduced onGraduation each Project 2015 for the opening spreads spread for reference. of the cover story were exlored.

!0 The editorial team was to meet to discuss changes in content. The design was kept on hold. Looking at the massive bulk of work done so far, my mentor asked me to take a mini-vacation.

!1 Selecting few potential directions from previous rounds of explorations, we developed four distinct visual languages.

!2 In Week twelve I came to NID for my guide visit. The time here was spent in zooming out, recontextualizing the design brief and redefining parameters.

!3 The four design direction were presented to the editors and by popular vote the ‘Bold’ direction got shortlisted.

!4 Unconvinced by the selection, I decided to explore further taking graphic clues from the bold design. This resulted in the development of two new approaches.

!5 The two final design directions were presented to the editors as complete cover-to-cover dummies. The design with the navigation bar was shortlisted.

!6 At this point the design team and editorial team were conflicted in their preferences. This period saw several heated arguments between the two teams over the final selection.

!7 After much deliberations and weighing the pros and cons of both design directions, the ‘Icon’ design was finalized as the new-look of The Caravan.

!8 This time was spent on refining the design and fleshing out all the sections of the magazine. We also reviewed and shortlisted the treatment for the contents page and cover.

!9 Most of this time was spent on waiting for the editorial team to plan and fix the release of the new design. Meanwhile we decided upon the final colour scheme.

@0 In the twentieth week of the project, I handed over the final design dummy to the editors. Before heading to NID, I payed a visit to the printing press.

#explorations

WARMING UP: EXPLORATIONS 41

A magazine design project is a pure exercise of visual communication design. At the core, it is about images and text and striking the most optimum balance between the two. It wasnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t until several rounds of explorations that we got clarity on what seemed to be working. I think this part of the process was the most mechanical as well as the most meditative.

Owing to the tight time-line of the project, my process from the beginning was mainly centered around tangible graphic design output. As early as three weeks into the project, I was already exploring possible layouts and visual languages. Given the fact that a bulk of my time was spent on these rapid visual explorations, I have decided to dedicate a whole chapter to discuss them in great detail.

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

The Process

Understanding the growth of visual language through these progressive explorations would help one realize the thought process that contributed to the development of the final design direction. A magazine design project is a pure exercise of visual communication design. At the core, it is about images and text and striking the most optimum balance between the two. The next level would be to add visual elements that garnish the overall visual experience. A project so visual in its nature must be approached in a visual fashion too. At each stage, I had to keep shifting between the standpoint of a reader and that of a designer, to truly judge the merit of what was in front of me.

41 Monday Reviews At the beginning of every second week, the entire design team met with the editorial team to review the bulk of explorations generated over the previous two weeks 42 Order The sequence of sections in which I attempted my design explorations.

It wasn’t until several rounds of explorations that we got clarity on what seemed to be working. I think this part of the process was the most mechanical as well as the most meditative. As a design student I had never previously generated such a bulk of explorations prior to finalizing look-and-feel. However, this time was different.

In terms of the approach, we decided to start with the nameplate and the cover page. After exploring it to a satisfying extent, we decided to move to the interiors of the magazine. Since I did not have a say in the content structure of the magazine, I directly jumped on to exploring the possibilities within the visual structure of the publication.

It was my first attempt at magazine design and to be honest it took me a while to get a hang of the need of the brief. So in that sense most of these explorations helped me warm-up my hand at the software, calibrate my eyes to finer details and just cleanse my system of all the latent ideas. I was impressed by the speed of working that I gained at the end of it all.

The first step in this direction was to try and get the basic skeleton of the pages right. For that purpose, we first took calls on the grid, the margins, the typeface choices etc. Once we had some leads on that front, I started working on the layouts. At this point, I spent days and months churning out digital layout explorations, each one different from the other.

Working alone at home also meant that I couldn’t instantly bounce off ideas and iterations and receive a quick feedback. I had to be my own judge of what could work. Over time I realized that exploring in large quantities not only helped me clear my mind but also helped me visualize all possible scenarios. This then became my way of working for the entire length of the project.

This flow of working was interspersed with review meeting with the mentor and the client. At each meeting we would discuss the merits and demerits of every exploration and shortlist the ones that seemed most appealing. These shortlisted directions were then further refined on the basis of the feedback and observations that came up during the review meetings.

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

Type Tests

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Like I mentioned earlier, around two months of work had already gone into the redesign project before I stepped in. However, not much had been achieved in those two months in terms of actual tangible design on paper/ screen. My mentor had tried a few explorations for the earlier sections of the book. When the project started, the editor, Anant Nath, was keen on having me pick up from the point where the redesign process was at. His idea was to hand over whatever explorations had been done already to me and then have me work ahead from there. However, both me and my mentor felt the need to do the opposite for the sake of the redesign as well as my graduation project. Given the academic significance of this project for me, my mentor felt that I should start from scratch. This would also give him a chance to see my true potential. Luckily, he was very open to new ideas and ways of approaching the project. I am glad that this was the path that we chose. Although, in the long run the

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

The Process

project ended up taking longer than estimated, my personal learning was tremendous since I was left to explore freely. I began by exploring the magazine one section at a time. As I moved to the third week of my project, the attention shifted to tangible explorations. The first step of this stage was to build a sound skeletal structure on which the rest of the design could be built. Good typography is the backbone of any successful publication. Getting the typeface choices right was crucial. I began by listing down a few characteristics that I wanted the new Caravan to reflect. Once I had these, I tried to figure out typefaces that would match these adjectives. I have learned overtime that such abstract approaches always help to make the design feel more human. After making a conceptual choice of typefaces, it was time to test them for functionality. We decided to use only two typefaces in The Caravan. So the task was to find one main serif typeface for the body copy and a sans-serif for headers to provide good contrast on the

page. We decide to go a serif way for the body text since The Caravan has several situations of extended reading. I tested around a dozen typefaces until we were convinced about the visual tone. The shortlisted ones were then tested for the optimum pointsize and leading values. At the end of this process we had shortlisted three typefaces for body text which worked both functionally and visually. These were, Franziska, Mercury and Farnham. Even though I personally was tending towards Franziska, we eventually decided to go with Mercury. The decision was also influenced by the lack of funds with the magazine to invest in a new typeface. Incidentally, Mercury was being used in the older design of the magazine as well. So in that sense, we were back to square one. But as a student I am happy I was made to go through the whole process of type selection nonetheless as it provided good learning to me. The selected typeface Mercury is very versatile and hence gave us a good range of variation.

It is important to note that in case of The Caravan the article length is unusually long and hence their is always a space crunch. Even with the redesign, the editors did not want to compromise with the length of writing significantly because that is the core of the magazineâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s identity. Therefore, I knew that I had to select a typeface with maximum space efficiency. For this reason, even while doing preliminary type-tests, instead of using generic placeholder text â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;lorem-ipsumâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;, I decided to use actual text from one of the older articles of The Caravan. Not only did this let me get a better sense of ease of reading, it also made it easier to judge the word-count/line-count ratio.

44 Match the personality! It helped to note down a bunch of adjectives that best describe the desired personality of The Caravan and to then find typefaces that would match those adjectives. This way we knew, we were reflecting the right mood to the reader.

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43 Preparing for the Journey Before I began the process of finding a typeface, I watched a couple of Ted Talks by famous designers on the topic of importance of typography. I also read a few online resources. Out of these, Michael Bierut’s ‘Thirteen ways of looking at a typeface” helped me the most in decision making.

45 Test Prints The best way to judge elements for a print publication is by printing it out! So I printed out a dozen typefaces to test their readability and personality on paper. For this, instead of using placeholder text ‘lorem ipsum’, I used actual text from one of the older Caravan articles

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* Shortlisted Typefaces

Arno Pro (10 pt /12 pt)

Adobe Caslon Pro (9 pt /10.8 pt)

Mrs Eaves (10 pt /12 pt)

Sabon MT Std (9 pt /10.8 pt)

The shortlisted typefaces were tested for readability and legibility by using different values of point size and leading.

Hoefler Text (9 pt /10.8 pt)

Franziska OT (9 pt /10.8 pt)*

Scala (9 pt /10.8 pt)

Farnham Text (9 pt /10.8 pt)*

Farnham (9.5 pt /11.5 pt)*

Franziska OT (9.5 pt /11.5 pt)*

Mercury Text Grade 1, 9 pt on 11.4 pt leading was the final selection

Mercury Text G1 (9 pt /10.8 pt)* On a Saturday afternoon in late September, gaggles of hijab-clad women, many with young children in tow, swarmed outside the closed gates of an auditorium in Taman Mini, a popular recreational park in east Jakarta. A brawny, black-maned figure wielding a bow and arrow pouted suggestively from a phalanx of promotional banners that lined the street, with the title Panah Asmara Arjuna.

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

The Process

Mercury Text G1 (9 pt /11.4 pt)* On a Saturday afternoon in late September, gaggles of hijab-clad women, many with young children in tow, swarmed outside the closed gates of an auditorium in Taman Mini, a popular recreational park in east Jakarta. A brawny, blackmaned figure wielding a bow and arrow pouted suggestively from a phalanx of promotional banners that lined the street, with the title Panah Asmara Arjuna

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MERCURY TEXT G1 - ROMAN

On a Saturday afternoon in late September MERCURY TEXT G1 - ROMAN SC

On a Saturday afternoon in late September MERCURY TEXT G1 - ITALICS

On a Saturday afternoon in late September MERCURY TEXT G1 - SEMIBOLD

On a Saturday afternoon in late September MERCURY TYPEFACE: Mercury is a serif typeface family designed by Jonathan Hoefler and Tobias Frere-Jones. It was the product of nine years of research and development by H&FJ. Mercury is unique in that it’s available in four “grades.” The grades have the same width but are progressively darker in color. This was originally created for different newspaper printing needs, however, it could be useful in digital contexts as well. Alexander Isley gave H&FJ the opportunity to explore the possibilities of a typeface specifically designed for the needs of newspaper printing in 1999, when he asked them to solve an interesting problem for the New Times newspaper chain. Newspapers are one of typography’s most challenging environments, not only because their high-speed presses coincide with pulpy papers and thin inks, but because they contain so many different kinds of information

— arranged in countless ways — that are composed not by designers but by software. The New Times faced all these difficulties, plus one more: its eleven weekly editions were printed in different regions, each of which was subject to different atmospheric conditions. Mercury Text was designed in a series of grades, sibling members of a type family which share the same underlying geometry, but offer different degrees of darkness on the page. (Unlike the weights of a type family, which grow progressively wider as they get bolder, a font’s grades increase in color without affecting copyfit. Even today this continues to be the most unique feature of Mercury which makes it an excellent typeface for print design.

MERCURY TEXT G1 - SEMIBOLD SC

On a Saturday afternoon in late September MERCURY TEXT G1 - SEMIBOLD ITALICS

On a Saturday afternoon in late September MERCURY TEXT G1 - BOLD

On a Saturday afternoon in late September MERCURY TEXT G1 - BOLD SC

On a Saturday afternoon in late September MERCURY TEXT G1 - BOLD ITALICS

On a Saturday afternoon in late September

In case of The Caravan, like I mentioned earlier, the paper stock used is inconsistent. Given this my mentor was convinced that we continue using Mercury for the body copy even with the redesign of the magazine.

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Graduation Project 2015

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With the decision on the body type made, it was time to move on to the secondary typeface. Early on in the project, my mentor and I had decided that we wanted to limit ourselves to a minimum number of typefaces in the publication. With a good serif typeface in place, we were now looking for a sans serif that could give us a good range of contrast when used next to Mercury. This process of selection was less structured and more iterative in the sense that, instead of testing type specimens in isolation we decided to explore type options simultaneously with layout explorations, spontaneously responding to the need of the design. Working in this way also meant that very strong visual personalities got associated to these typefaces based on the general visual language of the layout that they were used in. This simplified the process of final selection to a great extent. During our meetings with the editorial team, instead of focusing on ‘which typeface to pick’ we only had to focus on ‘which tone of voice’ would befit the personality the magazine best.

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

The Process

MERCURY DISPLAY (Tobias Frere-Jones)

FIRA SANS (Erik Spiekermann)

DIDOT (Pierre Didot)

Our desire to use minimum number of typefaces took us far into the idea of just sticking to one family through and through. In our layout explorations, we tried to exploit the entire range of grades and possibilities that Mercury had to offer. Although, in principle the idea of just using one family caught our fancy, we soon realized that it was at the cost of visual variation in the magazine. Using Mercury solely was limiting the design in many ways and making the publication appear rather flat.

Given the budgetary constraints imposed on the redesign project, we had to be careful about the cost factor that would follow certain font selections. At one point, we started looking for good free fonts that may serve our purpose. Fira is a beautifully open source font which is part of the Google Fonts clan. Fira Sans is originally designed for the screen and in the course of our explorations we began to notice certain structural anomalies that wouldn’t be suitable for print.

The choice to bring Didot to the interiors of the magazine was rooted in the attempt of establishing some sort of visual consistency with the nameplate of the magazine. With certain specific layouts, this unusual type combination gave use unexpected and wonderful results. However, it was very difficult to make it work for all the sections of the publication and therefore we decided not to go down this road.

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INTERSTATE (Tobias Frere-Jones)

KNOCKOUT (Jonathan Hoefler)

AMPLITUDE (Christian Schwartz)

THE SANS (THESIS) (Lucas de Groot)

Another beautifully designed humanist-sans serif, Interstate is one of the most diverse type families. Designed by Tobias Frere Jones, this typeface is renowned for its legibility. Functionally, Interstate no doubt was a very clever choice. But the editorial team felt that it felt very ‘cold’ on paper and did not resonate with the visual identity of The Caravan.

While looking to develop a visual language that was ‘bold’ we knew we needed a typeface with a distinct voice of its own. Knockout, with its quirky appearance and a diverse family became an obvious choice. Although at first look, everybody in the team was convinced with the assertive voice of this direction, we eventually realized that it would conflict with the core personality of the magazine. Knockout was deemed ‘too loud’ for The Caravan.

After Knockout, Amplitude was another family that we looked towards for an assertive character and a wide range of weights. Functionally as well as visually this family worked very well for our purpose. The main reason leading to Amplitudes elimination was the fact that a leading contemporary magazine uses it for its header. The similarity in type selection was undesired.

Although the inconsistencies in Fira Sans lead to its elimination, we realized that a clean contemporary serif was the way to go. At this point we started looking for more sans-serif typefaces that were better resolved as well as offered a wide range of weights. This search lead us to TheSans which is part of a super family called Thesis. The humanist sans-serif demeanor of The Sans was a pitch-perfect match for Mercury. It also had a wide range of weights to offer which made it a clear winner.

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

Nameplate

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The nameplate, or flag, serves as the identifier of a magazine or a newspaper. Magazines and newspapers are basically consumer goods, and, like any consumer goods they are brands by themselves. Like any other brand they need to have a logo. In a sea of magazines on the newsstands you want the logo to pop up. Beside fairly communicating the essence of the publicationâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s personality, to be instantly recognizable is the most important job of the magazine nameplate. While designing the nameplate certain key concerns had to be kept in mind. It had to capture the publications character, attitude as well as needed to fit well with the intended readership bracket. The nameplate explorations were the first step of tangible graphic design explorations in this project. From the beginning itself, the

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

The Process

management and the editorial team had communicated their lack of interest in replacing the existing nameplate of The Caravan. Despite this, my mentor and I, as designers, recognized how far a well designed and re-branded logo could take the new look of the magazine. Given our conviction, we decided to explore the possibilities nonetheless and pitch it. The first step was to communicate the right emotion through the nameplate. Like I discussed in the previous section, the current nameplate of The Caravan looks a little dated. Since the primary aim of the redesign was to make the magazine seem younger and approachable, we knew that the nameplate needed a major revamp. I began by mapping out the various adjectives that come to mind while describing The Caravan. I divided these into two broad categories, the ones in blue represented what

The Caravan is at present and the pink ones stood for what the magazine wants to be through this redesign. This map is illustrated in the adjoining figure. Taking these words as cognitive cues I began exploring the form of the name trying to translate the essence of the desired character of the magazine through the design. The entire process happened in two rounds and the following spreads show a progressive development of the concept and the form.

46 What it Wants to Be An emotive mapping of the various adjectives that one associates with brand The Caravan 47 Scope of Work A page from my sketchbook. Before starting the form exploration I tried to deconstruct the significance of nameplate and what was the scope for a redesign in it.

48 The Caravan a Fifty Times Over! After the first round of nameplate explorations, I wasn’t satisfied with the outcome so to turn things up, I decided to challenge myself a little. One evening, I sat down on my desk and decided that I am gonna write ‘The Caravan’ fifty times without repeating the style even once! So each time that I write the name, it has to be different. (Note: I am not one of calligraphy enthusiasts that you would find in a typical graphic design school. Most of these are mere scribbles which were just attempts that exploring the possibilities with the name)

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

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CARAVAN THE

Keeping the typeface Didot, changed the case to title case

Caravan Modifications in certain terminals to make the forms slightly ‘edgy’

Placement of an italic ‘the’ to complement negative space created between ‘r’ and ‘a’

The The attempt was to give the masthead a new look without changing the typeface. The modified version is tighter and bolder, giving it a more confident and a less understated face-lift. Altering the super elegant terminals of Didot at specific places, lends it a fresher more contemporary look without taking away from the ‘intelligent’ feel.

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

The Process

the

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THE

CARAVAN For exploration’s sake but one does realize that in practice this maybe too thick and black and hence would not work

CARAVAN

Using Mercury for the masthead as well might aid in weaving a more consistent visual story through the entire publication. However, attempts to give a specific unique treatment to the masthead might be worthwhile. The small caps set in Mercury here definitely look strong, grounded and authoritative.

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Graduation Project 2015

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THE

CARAVAN THE

CARAVAN

Using a sans dropping the serif approach altogether. News Gothic here is clean and definitely younger looking. This approach with lines as an additional graphic element maybe reminiscent of newspaper nameplates.

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

The Process

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TheCaravan Calibri

THECARAVAN Avenir

thecaravan Avenir

THECARAVAN Cuprum

TheCaravan Heroic Condensed

Taking the sans-serif approach further, the attempt was to move closer to a contemporary appeal while focusing on clean and sophisticated. Placing the entire name on the same baseline and emphasizing ‘Caravan’ by the virtue of weight.

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Exploring weight-contrast-further, with Arno Pro this time. This version is a combination of the clean/contemporary style explored previously with the sophistication and seriousness of a classic serif typeface. Arno Pro is rich and classy- very upfront, confident and elegant - has a presence of its own and is graceful. The vast type-family makes it worthy of exploration for the inside pages as well.

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

The Process

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Explorations with the special characters in the Arno Pro glyph set

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Graduation Project 2015

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Explorations with the special characters (swashes) in the Arno Pro glyph set

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

The Process

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Arno Pro Regular

Arno Pro Bold Caption

Arno Pro Bold Italic

Explorations with the special characters in the Arno Pro glyph set

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Graduation Project 2015

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Explorations with the special characters in the Arno Pro glyph set

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

The Process

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aravan Breaking the stagnant linearity by staggering the baselines. The big ‘C’ is a definite attention catcher. The thick line gives balance and binds the entire form. The italics add a fresh air of playfulness to the name which retaining the seriousness with the elegant serif letter-forms of ArnoPro.

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Three rounds of rigorous nameplate explorations gave us promising results. While some of these were shot down immediately, certain others were refined further to gauge their actual potential. My approach towards designing a nameplate for the magazine can be divided into two parts. First, where I recognized the positives of the current nameplate and then tried to enhance those by making design changes and alterations. Second, where I tried to completely change the look and feel of the nameplate. In the first approach I picked up certain keywords that the current nameplate communicated which resulted in a desired perception of The Caravan’s personality. These were; elegant, sophisticated and wise. With these in mind I began visualizing design changes that would help the nameplate communicate these qualities in a more assertive manner. In this direction, I extensively

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

The Process

explored typefaces such as Arno Pro which had the elegance of Didot but was more contemporary and bolder. In the second approach, I went in a completely new direction by trying to give the nameplate a young and edgy look. In order to make these explorations radically different, I decided to try out sans-serif typefaces. While some of the explorations seemed promising, the editors were not ready to commit to such a drastic change in visual language. Eventually we had to completely let go of that idea. In the last and final round, I sort of struck gold. I realized that the key to introduce change would be to bring about a subtle yet significant difference. A third completely different direction, set in titlecase of Didot bold, this option is kerned extremely tight to add to the strength and stability. The ‘r’ and adjacent ‘a’ have been resolved by giving a common terminal. It is compact and fresh while still retaining the elegance of the older

nameplate. The proximity of letter forms also aides in better legibility by binding the whole form together. This nameplate is shown on the opposite page. Although this design got shortlisted, just weeks before the launch of the magazine, the editors decided to go back to the old nameplate and retain it even with the new design. This decision was taken since the management felt that changing the logo would be a big risk that they were not ready for. Even though the exercise did not conclude in actual execution but as a student I got to learn a lot from the process. Prior to this I did not have much experience with form design and this short stint definitely helped me refine my skill and learn about the nitty-gritties of form design. Also, being the first stage of tangible design iteration, this exercise helped me streamline my vision for the redesign and in the end I got a clearer idea about how I would like to take it ahead.

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Pupul Bisht 路 UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

Cover Page

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Unlike any other brand, in case of a magazine, the only significant use of its logo/nameplate is on its cover page. Hence, my mentor suggested that there was no point exploring the nameplates in isolation and that I should start putting them in context (of a cover page) to really see what works and how. If the magazine is to be displayed and sold through a bookstall, there are certain restrains and conventions that must be followed. Since the only way to get a casual/ new reader to pick up a print version of the magazine is to call him/her from a news stand, these conventions had to be paid heed to. The most important of these demands is that the title must be visible when the magazine is on display. This meant that the cover had to carry the nameplate of the magazine on the top of the page since most traditional news stands used vertical stacking. Although this isnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t a sacrosanct rule anymore, the editors at The Caravan did not want to take a risk. Naturally, for a majority of our explorations

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

The Process

we tried to hold the nameplate at the top of the page. The form of the nameplate, however, commanded its location in a big way. While certain designs, take the one is image 00, demanded left-alignment; some forms worked the best when placed in the center. The second most important element on the cover is the imagery. It is what distinguishes the visual tone of a magazine from that of its peers. There must be a direct connection between cover and content or the reader will feel cheated. In some of my initial explorations, I tried to propose a style of imagery that was radically different from the one that is associated with the current design of The Caravan. Due to the lack of budget and unwillingness of the editorial team to deviate, these ideas were shot down. The direction that was selected in the end was a clever twist on the current imagery which made it graphically appealing without making drastic changes.

The following spreads show the most significant explorations for the cover page. The first round of explorations was mainly aesthetically driven and focused on visualizing the cover of The Caravan in radically different ways. Some of the potential directions from this round were shortlisted and further refined in round 2 adding a conscious filter of functionality this time. In the subsequent spreads, I have shown the shortlisted directions from round one as small thumbnails, accompanied by the refined versions from round two as the bigger image on the page. Each set is supported by a short concept note.

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INR 75.00 A Journal of Politics and Culture

March 2015

HOW TO PULP A BOOK DINA BATRA VS INDIA THE TUMULOUS REIGN OF RAMOJI RAO

SILENT STRENGTH

Direction #1

How woman stood up for what she believed in.

This direction mainly focused on proposing a strong visual language for the cover imagery. The nameplate unit at the top of the page is given a distinct space, divided from the rest of the elements by a thick rule. The cost and date line are emphasized on the top right corner of the page. The story lines are shifted to the left edge, stacked vertically with the cover story highlighted by type-size and colour.

DATA ANALYSIS SPECIAL SKEWED AD BUDGET OF MODI

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A Journal of Politics and Culture

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LIFE IN A REFUGEE CAMP 07 34

Direction #2 This design merged the black band of the older design with the negative space around the nameplate to create a flag-like form around the image which would stand out on a newstand. The story lines are clubbed and tabulated at the bottom with the cover story and the corresponsing page number highlighted.

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

INR 75.00

MITHUN CHAKRAVARTY

THE ONLY TRUE SUPER STAR

The Process

THE TUMULOUS REIGN OF RAMOJI RAO

A MEDIA SPECIAL EDITION

MARCH 2015

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A Journal of Politics and Culture

03.15

SYRIAN WAR SPECIAL EDITION

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IN THE NAME OF GOD A NEW APPRECIATION

Direction #3 This direction offered maximum image area by allowing the cover-image to be used in full bleed. The rest of the elements of page are clubbed to form a tabular unit at the top of the page. The issue date and cover story is treated in a striking colour to give emphasis.

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Pupul Bisht 路 UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

124

ISSUE 46/ AUGUST 2015

This design was the most favored of the lot as it allowed the flexibility of using the image in full bleed as well as in a cropped box. The rest of the elements, rearranged at the top of the page worked well from the point of view of visibility on the news rack. The cover story was isolated and put at the bottom of the page to establish the correlation wit the cover image.

Commentary

Photo Essay

Love of God. Indonesia falls for an Indian television remake

Minority Report.Will newsgathering survive the proliferation of online media?

A Poisoned Palace.Will newsgathering survive the proliferation of online media?

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The Process

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The Lede

56 Medical Miracles

Direction #4

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Direction #5 These two directions, even though aesthetically appealing were reminiscent of lifestyle magazine covers and hence were eliminated.

Pupul Bisht 路 UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

Fig. 8.1

Fig. 8.2

Fig. 8.3

Fig. 8.4

ISSUE 46/ AUGUST 2015

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Love of God. Indonesia falls for an Indian television remake

Minority Report.Will newsgathering survive the proliferation of online media?

A Poisoned Palace.Will newsgathering survive the proliferation of online media?

A JOURNAL OF POLITIC S AND CULTURE

ISSUE 46/ AUGUST 2015

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The Lede

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Love of God. Indonesia falls for an Indian television remake

Minority Report.Will newsgathering survive the proliferation of online media?

A Poisoned Palace.Will newsgathering survive the proliferation of online media?

HOW SMS SPAM SELLS REAL ESTATE

THE FIRST GREAT INDIAN RAPPER

IN TRANSLATION A PARTITION MASTERPIECE

A Journal of Politics and Culture

TALK OF THE TOWN

A Journal of Politics and Culture

ARUN JAITLEY

126

in search of the

Real Manmohan

in search of the

Real Manmohan

The first two rounds of cover page explorations culminated with a review meeting at The Caravan office with the entire editorial as well as the design team. Each design was inspected in great detail in both aesthetic as well as functional aspects. The main concerns that surfaced during this meeting, defined the further course of action for the design. First and foremost, the editorial team was very clear on the unwillingness to drastically change the nameplate of the magazine. They felt that over the years it had become an integral part of the brand identity and they did not want to take the risk of readers not being able to reconnect with a new nameplate. Having said that, some of the senior editors still wanted to keep the option of a new nameplate open in case something really clicked and felt right. Secondly, even for my explorations I was advised to stick to the imagery of the previous

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

The Process

REAL MANMOHAN

THE TRIALS OF RURAL WELFARE GETS SHORT SHIFT UJJWAL NIKAM

PAKISTANI CRICKET TRIALS AND TRAGEDIES

04.15

IN SEARCH OF THE

MARCH 2015/ RS. 75.00

covers. With the redesign, the nature of content of the magazine was not going to change much. This meant that most often than not, the cover story would still run the profile of a politician or another significant personality. Given this fact, it was only logically for me to stick to portrait based imagery while exploring the cover layouts as well. For the sake of easy comparison, we decided to use the content from any one of the previous issues of the magazine. Each exploration from then on used the same content for the cover instead of using dummy text and hypothetical imagery. This was particularly helpful for the editorial staff as it became easier for them to visualize how each design could communicate the same story in so many different ways. I decided to work with one of the cherished cover stories of The Caravan on Manmohan Singh. Not only was this issue well received at an editorial level, it also had one of the

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most iconic covers in the magazineâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s history. Although, I recognized the challenge involved in trying to out-do a cover that was already appealing, I was also aware of the fact that this challenge could be the only true litmus test for the credibility of a proposed design. Figure 8 above uses the shortlisted direction #4 from the previous round. This design was eliminated because the band of storylines would always cover the head of the portrait. Figures 8.2 and 8.3 are some of the other explorations from this round. Both these directions were shot down because they required cropping of the cover image. The photo-editor of the magazine was particularly opposed to this idea because he felt this would unnecessarily limit the range of options while selecting photos as most photographs are originally shot in rectangular formats. Figure 8.4 shows one of the shortlisted

direction from the third round. This design attempted to break the traditional rules of cover page composition by introducing a vertical band containing the story lines. This band was intended to be of different colours in each issue. Figure 9 is a refined version of this concept. The design in Figure 10 was the final selection. This design was all about making a big impact with the least number of changes. While still sticking to a portrait as the central image on the cover, I proposed the placement of it against a stark solid background. Given the fact that most magazines have a cluttered visual language for their covers, I was confident the colour would make this cover stand out. We also decided to push the story-lines at the top of the page acknowledging the visibility concerns posed by a crowded traditional news stand. In the next volume I would be discussing the development of this design direction in further detail.

Fig. 9

Fig. 10

HOW SMS SPAM SELLS REAL ESTATE

THE FIRST GREAT INDIAN RAPPER

IN TRANSLATION A PARTITION MASTERPIECE

A Journal of Politics and Culture

july 2015

IN SEARCH OF THE

REAL MANMOHAN

127

SMS SPAM GREATEST INDIAN RAPPER A PARTITION MASTERPIECE

03.15

in search of the

www.caravanmagazine.in

Real Manmohan A J O U R NA L O F P O L I T I C S A N D C U LT U R E

Pupul Bisht 路 UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

Front of the Book (FoB)

128

After a fair level of explorations for the cover page, my mentor was confident with our progress on that front. He felt that with a few shortlisted directions in our hand, it would now make sense for us to move to the interior of the magazine. Our progress with designing the visual language of different sections of the magazine would then guide the final design development of the cover page. From this point the process could not be as linear and some back and forth for the sake of continuity had to be accommodated for in the work flow. The first section that I was told to attempt was The Lede. Running some of the shortest content in the magazine and being the first section, The Lede was the perfect choice to begin with. The thumbnails on the opposite page show explorations from the first round. This round was not preceded by any prior briefing on the requirement/vision of the section. I was encouraged to freely visualize

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

The Process

possibilities without thinking of any constraints. As expected, most of these explorations could not be used due to several functional issues but it was a good way of warming-up to the whole process of magazine design. Post this I decided to understand the intention and vision behind the articles of this section before exploring further. Although, my mentor did help me understand this to a fair extent, the most helpful in this regard was my extensive interaction with Roman Gautam, the section editor for the entire Front of the Book. Roman helped me get to the depth of nature of the section as well as the message that they want to communicate to the reader through the stories. Additionally, he threw light on certain technical issues regarding word count and image selection that they face almost every month while putting the section together in real time. As an aware editor, he also had some

very clear views on how the section could benefit from a sensitively structured design language. Some of the key issues raised by him are as follows: 1. The Lede is the ‘quirkiest’ section of the magazine and carries an assortment of stories. The design while communicating this mood also needed to be flexible enough to accommodate varying lengths of writing. 2. The newly merged section of Letters, brings international content to the reader in the form of personal recounts, something that is unique to this magazine. The global nature of this piece had to be highlighted. 3. Making the slugs snappier and catchy was of paramount importance since it was the most effective way of roping in a casual reader. Roman, encouraged me to look at unusual and graphical ways of slugging.

4. The revised average length of stories in the is section would range between 700–1200 words with Letters stretching upto 1450–1600 words in some cases. The number of pages was limited to 1–2 pages per story. One of the biggest challenge for the design was to device a way of introducing more breathing space into the pages and also make provision for better use of photography. With these nuggets on the need of the hour, I began my second round of explorations which is discussed in the upcoming spreads. Some of the explorations that were shortlised are accompanied by thumbnails of the postrefinement stage, so as to give the reader a better understanding on how certain issues were resolved.

A veteran journalist recounts some prized scoops

THE LEAD

“The first thing is to have an identity that totally puts people off track”

Mumbai’s Muslim engraver of Jewish tombstones Sameer Khan

“The first thing is to have an identity that totally puts people off track. I’d look upon it as an advantage that there were no female reporters, not as a handicap”

THE LEDE

IN HER OWN BEAT

SET IN STONE

THE LEDE

mrita Rangasamy can usually be found in the library of the India International Centre (IIC), on Lodi Road in Delhi, poring over reports as part of her research into famine and governance. In the evenings, she shifts to the institution’s lounge, where she reads periodicals, or catches up with friends who drop by to meet her. Small, silver-haired and bespectacled, there is a scholarly air about her. But engage her in conversation about her career, which began in the 1960s, and she is seized with a childish glee, as she rattles off tales from decades of reporting, during which she marked herself out as one of the country’s foremost journalists on development and governance. Rangasamy is one of the breed that the journalist Shahnaz Anklesaria Aiyar described in her essay in Making News, Breaking News, Her Own Way, a collection of essays by winners of the Chameli Devi Jain awards for journalism. “After the initial reports of riots, droughts, and floods had made the headlines,” Aiyar wrote, “it was often women journalists who went back to the scenes of carnage or devastation and gave its victims a voice.” When I met Rangasamy in the IIC in November, she recounted one of her early stories, from 1966. At the time, there was a statute in force in Madras requiring rice to be rationed due to a food shortage in the region. Waking up at around 3.30 am on the morning of the assignment, she wore a silk saree and diamond earrings, and told her mother that she was going to cover an event attended by the “chief minister”. “Why alarm people?” she said of her lie. “It was best to tell her something that will keep her calm.” Rangasamy and a photographer set out in a jeep for the Red Hills region about half an hour to the north of the city, where they had learnt rice was being sold illegally for distribution to the black market. They reached a shop where, she said, “rice was being weighed, and put into gunny bags. And then gunny bags were moved around in the trucks.” Rangasamy went to the men who were watching over the smuggling, and told them, “Veettilluh kalyanam. Engalukkuh arisi illuh. Randu mootai venum” (There’s a wedding at home. We don’t have any rice. Please give me two bags of rice). Her saree and rings, she said, ensured that they would buy her story and “walk into her trap”. Once Rangasamy had confirmed that the shop was selling rice illegally, she pretended to leave. After driving a short distance away, she instructed the driver to turn the

Set In Stone Mumbai’s Muslim engraver of Jewish tombstones. Fair Play Costumised playgrounds get disabled children active. Critical Mass An innovative publishing firm looks to crowd source its sections. For the Record The forgotten Delhi home of a Pakistani daily newspaper.

CULTURE . INNOVATION . MEDIA

Rahul M

LOVE OF GOD by Pallavi Aiyer

Love of God Indonesia falls for an Indian television remake of the Mahabharat

Silent Strength A champion deaf wrestler struggles for recognition

Love of God Indonesia falls for an Indian television remake of the Mahabharat

Silent Strength

“The first thing is to have an identity that totally puts people off track. I’d look upon it as an advantage that there were no female reporters, not as a handicap”

In her own beat

A champion deaf wrestler struggles for recognition

Silent Strength A champion deaf wrestler struggles for recognition

November, she recounted one of her early stories, from 1966. At the time, there was a statute in force in Madras requiring rice to be rationed due to a food shortage in the region. Waking up at around 3.30 am on the morning of the assignment, she wore a silk saree and diamond earrings, and told her mother that she was going to cover an event attended by the “chief minister”. “Why alarm people?” she said of her lie. “It was best to tell her something that will keep her calm.” Rangasamy and a photographer set out in a jeep for the Red Hills region about half an hour to the north of the city, where they had learnt rice was being sold illegally for distribution to the black market. They reached a shop where, she said, “rice was being weighed, and put into gunny bags. And then gunny bags were moved around in the trucks.” Rangasamy went to the men who were watching over the smuggling, and told them, “Veettilluh kalyanam. Engalukkuh arisi illuh. Randu mootai venum” (There’s a wedding at home. We don’t have any rice. Please give me two bags of rice). Her saree and rings, she said, ensured that they would buy her story and “walk into her trap”.

Once Rangasamy had confirmed that the shop was selling rice illegally, she pretended to leave. After driving a short distance away, she instructed the driver to turn the jeep around and rev the engine to illuminate the scene for the photographer—“trucks loaded with rice bags and a row of cycles with rice bags strapped to the back”. The photographs were on the front page of the Indian Express the following day, and Rangasamy’s report, which something that will keep her calm.” Rangasamy and a photographer set out in a jeep for the Red Hills region about half an hour to the north of the city, where they had learnt rice was being sold illegally for distribution to the black market. They reached a shop where, she said, “rice was being weighed, and put into gunny bags. And then gunny bags were moved around in the trucks.” Rangasamy went to the men who were watching over the smuggling, and told them, “Veettilluh kalyanam. Engalukkuh arisi illuh. Randu mootai venum” (There’s a wedding at home. We don’t have any rice. Please give me two bags of rice). Her saree and rings, she said, ensured that they would buy her story and “walk into her trap”.

Round 1 THE LEDE

Set in Stone Sameer Khan

IN HER OWN BEAT A veteran journalist recounts some prized scoops

“The first thing is to have an identity that totally puts people off track”

Amrita Rangasamy was one of first generation women journalist of India Image Courtsey Indian Express Archive Written by RAHUL M

The Lead

appeared in her column on page three, was noticed by the district’s collector, who cracked down on the racket. In another report for the Express, around the same time as the rice story, she dressed in the garb of a Girl Guide to gain access to the inmates of a remand home in Madras who, she had heard, were being abused the superintendent. “The first thing is to have an identity that totally puts people off track,” she said. “We had to impersonate somebody else.” The fact that people were unaccustomed to female reporters worked in her favour. “I’d look upon it as an advantage that there were no female reporters, not as a handicap,” she said. “When I went chasing rice smugglers nobody thought I was a reporter.” While these stories represented Rangasamy’s more dramatic exposés, much of her work entailed more conventional, if no less adventurous journalism, as she travelled across the country to cover elections, poverty, drought and floods in Assam, Mizoram, Nagaland, Maharashtra and Gujarat, and Naxalite conflicts in Srikakulam. Today, Rangasamy rues the fact that the explosive growth of the country’s media industry over the decades has not been accompanied by a sustained culture of journalism about issues such as poverty and deprivation. Despite the low pay and the sometimes heart-rending stories she covered, she said, “I enjoyed every day of my work as a reporter. We had nasha (spirit) in our body. You know what I mean? We were out to get somebody.”

THE LEDE

THE LEDE | MEDIA

on a Saturday afternoon in late September, gaggles of hijab-clad women, many with young children in tow, swarmed outside the closed gates of an auditorium in Taman Mini, a popular recreational park in east Jakarta. A brawny, black-maned figure wielding a bow and arrow pouted suggestively from a phalanx of promotional banners that lined the street, with the title Panah Asmara Arjuna—Arjuna’s Arrow of Love—printed above. Inside, a stage featuring two giant gilt thrones was being readied. Strobe lights criss-crossed the auditorium, and an overwrought score thundered from the sound system. This was the set for the live broadcast of Panah Asmara Arjuna’s second weekly elimination round. Advertised as a “maha reality show,” the Indonesian series follows a familiar trope: 15 young women start out sharing a house, and compete in daily challenges as they vie for the attention of a desirable hero. But in this case the hero happens to be someone who speaks no Indonesian, and had only been in the country for about a month when the show started: the Indian actor Shaheer Sheikh, who played Arjuna in the 2013 television series Mahabharat, an extravagant adaptation of the mythological epic by Star Plus. Every Saturday, the women line up on a stage, dubbed the “bharata yudha” zone, and Sheikh sends one of them home. The winner, who will be announced at the end of December, will travel with Sheikh to India. The Indonesian channel ANTV bought the rights to the Mahabharat from Star Plus, and started airing a dubbed version of the show this March. I first came across this Bahasa Indonesia Mahabharat in June, when I began to tune into ANTV every evening for its exclusive regional broadcasts of the FIFA World Cup. Mahabharat was aired just prior to each day’s opening matches. As I waited for well-built men to take to the football field, I ended up watching well-built men in faux-gold jewellery fighting with magical weapons instead. ANTV soon discovered that the ratings for the mythological series were

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

One of the main functional drawbacks common in all the explorations of this round was space efficiency since The Lede section of the magazine is crunched in merely 10 pages. Unlike the layouts explored, The Lede could not afford the luxury of a full opening spread as in most issues the opening piece of this section is faced by an ad on the recto page. Also, ‘quirky’ subject matter of some stories makes it very difficult to find relevant highquality images to support the article. In such cases, any design that demands a full page image would put an undesirable strain on the editors and writers.

Graduation Project 2015

129

At this point I began working towards trying to develop a design language that would translate the mood of the writing visually. The focus was on the various elements on page such as slugs, images, headers and entry points (pull-quotes).

“After the initial reports of riots, droughts, and floods had made the headlines,” Aiyar wrote, “it was often women journalists who went back to the scenes of carnage or devastation and gave its victims a voice.”

PEOPLE ELEPHANT

THE LEDE 01.

Her Own Beat

north of the city, where they had learnt rice was being sold illegally for distribution to the black market. They reached a shop where, she said, “rice was being weighed, and put into gunny bags. And then gunny bags were moved around in the trucks.” Rangasamy went to the men who were watching over the smuggling, and told them, “Veettilluh kalyanam. Engalukkuh arisi illuh. Randu mootai venum” (There’s a wedding at home. We don’t have any rice. Please give me two bags of rice). Her saree and rings, she said, ensured that they would buy her story and “walk into her trap”. Once Rangasamy had confirmed that the shop was selling rice illegally, she pretended to leave. After driving a short distance away, she instructed the driver to turn the jeep around and rev the engine to illuminate the scene for the photographer—“trucks loaded with rice bags and a row of cycles with rice bags strapped to the back”. The photographs were on the front page of the Indian Express the following day, and Rangasamy’s report, which appeared in her column on page three, was noticed by the district’s collector, who cracked down on the racket. In another report for the Express, around the same time as the rice story, she dressed in the garb of a Girl Guide to gain access to the inmates

of a remand home in Madras who, she had heard, were being abused the superintendent. “The first thing is to have an identity that totally puts people off track,” she said. “We had to impersonate somebody else.” The fact that people were unaccustomed to female reporters worked in her favour. “I’d look upon it as an advantage that there were no female reporters, not as a handicap,” she said. “When I went chasing rice smugglers nobody thought I was a reporter.” While these stories represented Rangasamy’s more dramatic exposés, much of her work entailed more conventional, if no less adventurous journalism, as she travelled across the country to cover elections, poverty, drought and floods in Assam, Mizoram, Nagaland, Maharashtra and Gujarat, and Naxalite conflicts in Srikakulam. Today, Rangasamy rues the fact that the explosive growth of the country’s media industry over the decades has not been accompanied by a sustained culture of journalism about issues such as poverty and deprivation. Despite the low pay and the sometimes heart-rending stories she covered, she said, “I enjoyed every day of my work as a reporter. We had nasha (spirit) in our body. You know what I mean? We were out to get somebody.” Amrita Rangasamy can usually be found in the library of the India Interna-

tional Centre (IIC), on Lodi Road in Delhi, poring over reports as part of her research into famine and governance. In the evenings, sWhe shifts to the institution’s lounge, where she reads periodicals, or catches up with friends who drop by to meet her. Small, silver-haired andW bespectacled, there is a scholarly air about her. But engage her in conversation about her career, Wwhich began in the 1960s, and she is seized with a childish glee, as she rattles off tales from decades of reporting, during which she marked herself out as one of the country’s foremost journalists on development and governance. Rangasamy is one of the breed that the journalist Shahnaz Anklesaria Aiyar described in her essay in Making News, Breaking News, Her Own Way, a collection of essays by winners of the Chameli Devi Jain awards for journalism. “After the initial reports of riots, droughts, and floods had made the headlines,” Aiyar wrote, “it was often women journalists who went back to the scenes of carnage or devastation and gave its victims a voice.” When I met Rangasamy in the IIC in November, she recounted one of her early stories, from 1966. At the time, there was a statute in force in Madras requiring rice to be rationed due to a food shortage in the region. Waking up at around 3.30 am on the morning of the assignment, she wore a silk saree and diamond earrings, and told her mother that she was going to cover an event attended by the “chief minister”. “Why alarm people?” she said of her lie. “It was best to tell her something that will keep her calm.” Rangasamy and a photographer set out in a jeep for the Red Hills region about half an hour to the north of the city, where they had learnt rice was being sold illegally for distribution to the black market. They reached a shop where, she said, “rice was being weighed, and put into gunny bags. And then gunny bags were moved around in the trucks.” Rangasamy went to the men who were watching over the smuggling, and told them, “Veettilluh kalyanam. Engalukkuh arisi illuh. Randu mootai venum” (There’s a wedding at home. We don’t THE CARAVAN| December 2013| 29

December 2013| THE CARAVAN

THE Love God of LEDE TELEVISION

INDONESIA

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

| December 2013| THE CARAVAN

The Process

than those for the football. At its peak, the show reached 7.6 percent of Indonesia’s television viewership; the World Cup final reached only 6.2 percent. I met with Kelly da Cunha, ANTV’s general manager of production, in a boxy backstage room a few hours before filming for the Panah elimination round was to begin. Middle-aged and portly, da Cunha chuckled compulsively while recounting the numbers. “With these kinds of ratings, we decided to go further,” he explained. Early this October, ANTV brought seven Mahabharat cast members over from India to perform in a live, three-hour stage show in Jakarta. The programme consisted of interviews and assorted histrionics—such as the five Pandavas and their archenemies, Duryodhana and Karna, gyrating to music that, though loud, could not drown out the ululations of the hundreds-strong, largely female audience. The popularity of a show based on the Mahabharata in Muslim-majority Indonesia might seem surprising, but da Cunha explained that Hindu epics are part of the country’s culture. For centuries, many parts of the Indonesian archipelago were majority-Hindu. By the seventh century CE, Hindu–Buddhist kingdoms dominated both Java and Sumatra—Indonesia’s two most populous islands. Ever since, Hindu cultural norms have infused indigenous mores, even after large-scale conversion to Islam in the sixteenth century. References to the epics are everywhere in Java—the language, the street signs, the political commentary. In Jakarta, many buses are painted with lurid advertisements for an energy drink called Kuku Bima, which promises Bhima-like endurance. An enormous statue of Krishna leading Arjun into battle dominates the roundabout in front of the Monas, the country’s main nationalist monument. There is a nationwide charitable foundation for twins named the Nakula and Sadewa Society. And one of the country’s bestselling novels, Amba, uses the story of Bhishma and Shikhandi (a later incarnation of Amba) to talk about Indonesia’s purges of communists in the mid

ly while recounting the numbers. “With these kinds of ratings, we decided to go further,” he explained. Early this October, ANTV brought seven Mahabharat cast members over from India to perform in a live, three-hour stage show in Jakarta. The programme consisted of interviews and assorted histrionics—such as the five Pandavas and their archenemies, Duryodhana and Karna, gyrating to music that, though loud, could not drown out the ululations of the hundreds-strong, largely female audience. The popularity of a show based on the Mahabharata in Muslim-majority Indonesia might seem surprising, but da Cunha explained that Hindu epics are part of the country’s culture. For centuries, many parts of the Indonesian archipelago were majority-Hindu. By the seventh century CE, Hindu–Buddhist kingdoms dominated both Java and Sumatra—Indonesia’s two most populous islands. Ever since, Hindu cultural norms have infused indigenous mores, even after large-scale conversion to Islam in the sixteenth century. References to the epics are everywhere in Java—the language, the street signs, the political commentary. In Jakarta, many buses are painted with lurid advertisements for an energy drink called Kuku Bima, which promises Bhima-like endurance. An enormous statue of Krishna leading Arjun into battle dominates the roundabout in front of the Monas, the country’s main nationalist monument. There is a nationwide charitable foundation for twins named the Nakula and Sadewa Society. And one of the country’s bestselling novels, Amba, uses the story of Bhishma and Shikhandi (a later incarnation of Amba) to talk about Indonesia’s purges of communists in the mid 1960s. Wayang kulit, a form of shadow-puppet theatre that features tales from the Mahabharata and the Ramayana, can draw tens of thousands to performances in rural Java. Indonesians feel a real sense of ownership over the epics. In the mid nineteenth century, Ronggowarsito, a poet from a royal court in central Java, wrote an apocryphal history that traced the lineage of the Javanese kings back to the Pandavas. Eventually, many Indonesians came to believe that the Mahabharta was set in Java rather than India. But India still has special appeal. Da Cunha said that after ANTV aired the Star Plus Mahabharat, a rival channel began to broadcast an all-Indonesian version of the epic, Ksatria Pandawa Lima whose title translates to the “Five Pandava Knights.” The show flopped. The reason, da Cunha claimed, was that a local “copy” could not compare to the “Indian original.” Da Cunha added that stories from the Hindu epics are not really associated with religion by Indonesian audiences. Instead, they are understood as morality tales that happen to be embedded in the local culture. “Even Shaheer is a Muslim,” he pointed out, “so there is nothing religious here.” I heard much the same thing when, last year, I met Ki Purbo Asmoro, one of Indonesia’s most celebrated

TELEVISION/ INDONESIA

LOVE OF GOD Indonesia falls for an Indian television remake of the Mahabharata

n a Saturday afternoon in late September, gaggles of hijab-clad women, many with young children in tow, swarmed outside the closed gates of an auditorium in Taman Mini, a popular recreational park in east Jakarta. A brawny, black-maned figure wielding a bow and arrow pouted suggestively from a phalanx of promotional banners that lined the street, with the title Panah Asmara Arjuna—Arjuna’s Arrow of Love—printed above. Inside, a stage featuring two giant gilt thrones was being readied. Strobe lights criss-crossed the auditorium, and an overwrought score thundered from the sound system. This was the set for the live broadcast of Panah Asmara Arjuna’s second weekly elimination round. Advertised as a “maha reality show,” the Indonesian series follows a familiar trope: 15 young women start out sharing a house, and compete in daily challenges as they vie for the attention of a desirable hero. But in this case the hero happens to be someone who speaks no Indonesian, and had only been in the country for about a month when the show started: the Indian actor Shaheer Sheikh, who played Arjuna in the 2013 television series Mahabharat, an extravagant adaptation of the mythological epic by Star Plus. Every Saturday, the women line up on a stage, dubbed the “bharata yudha” zone, and Sheikh sends one of them home. The winner, who will be announced at the end of December, will travel with Sheikh to India. The Indonesian channel ANTV bought the rights to the Mahabharat from Star Plus, and started airing a dubbed version of the show this March. I first came across this Bahasa Indonesia Mahabharat in June, when I began to tune into ANTV every evening for its exclusive regional broadcasts of the FIFA World Cup. Mahabharat was aired just prior to each day’s opening matches. As I waited for well-built men to take to the football field, I ended up watching well-built men in faux-gold jewellery fighting with magical weapons instead. ANTV soon discovered that the ratings for the mythological series were higher than those for the football. At its peak, the show reached 7.6 percent of Indonesia’s television viewership; the World Cup final reached only 6.2 percent. I met with Kelly da Cunha, ANTV’s general manager of production, in a boxy backstage room a few hours before filming for the Panah elimination round was to begin. Middle-aged and portly, da Cunha chuckled compulsiveTHE CARAVAN| December 2015

by Pallavi Aiyer

BY PALLAVI AIYER

Wayang kulit, a form of shadow-puppet theatre that features tales from the Mahabharata and the Ramayana, can draw tens of thousands to performances in rural Java. Indonesians feel a real sense of ownership over the epics. In the mid nineteenth century, Ronggowarsito, a poet from a royal court in central Java, wrote an apocryphal history that traced the lineage of the Javanese kings back to the Pandavas. Eventually, many Indonesians came to believe that the Mahabharta was set in Java rather than India. But India still has special appeal. Da Cunha said that after ANTV aired the Star Plus Mahabharat, a rival channel began to broadcast an all-Indonesian version of the epic, Ksatria Pandawa Lima whose title translates to the “Five Pandava Knights.” The show flopped. The reason, da Cunha claimed, was that a local “copy” could not compare to the “Indian original.” Da Cunha added that stories from the Hindu epics are not really associated with religion by Indonesian audiences. Instead, they are understood as morality tales that happen to be embedded in the local culture. “Even Shaheer is a Muslim,” he pointed out, “so there is nothing religious here.” I heard much the same thing when, last year, I met Ki Purbo Asmoro, one of Indonesia’s most celebrated wayang kulit masters, or dalang. Like most dalang, and like most wayang kulit audiences, Purbo Asmoro is Muslim. “These stories are allegorical,” he told me. “None of us take them as the literal truth.” He also said the Hindu epics promote values—for instance, the loyalty, courage and integrity of characters such as Ghatotkach and Bhim—that are affirmed by Islam. But those parallels aren’t essential; for many Indonesians, the Mahabharat is pure entertainment, akin to shows such as the hit HBO fantasy series Game of Thrones except with greater cultural resonance. Backstage on the Panah set, I also met Mahabharata actors Vin Rana and Lavanya Bharadwaj, who played, respectively, the twins Nakula and Sahadeva. Following

the Jakarta stage show in October, in which they both took part, ANTV took the cast to Bali, the only island in Indonesia that remains predominantly Hindu today. They were met in person, the actors told me, by the Raja of Ubud, a Balinese town. Bharadwaj, a youngster from Meerut, recalled a Balinese fan ferreting away in her handbag, as though it were a treasure, an apple that he had half eaten. Rana, formerly a heavy-machinery parts importer from Pitampura in Delhi, spoke of a woman fainting when she saw him in the flesh. “They respect us so much over here,” Rana said solemnly. “Respect or desire?” I asked. He giggled nervously. Acquiring sex-symbol status by playing demigods has put the television Pandavas on awkward terrain. Meanwhile, “Arjuna” was gearing up for the stage. Sheikh listened intently, through an interpreter, to a headscarved young woman running him through the evening. Dressed casually, in sports clothes stretched tight across his muscular torso, he swatted with impressive accuracy at mosquitoes buzzing around the room. With his shoulder-length hair and well-defined six-pack, it was easy to see why the Jammu-born actor is the most popular member of the Mahabharat cast in Indonesia. Sheikh boasts 262,000 Twitter followers, the vast majority of whom, he said, are Indonesian. On the first day the dubbed Mahabharat was broadcast in the Twitter-mad country, he said, his following jumped by 30,000. Sheikh explained that when he was first approached to play the role of Arjuna, he had been reluctant, in part because his Hindi was poor. Once he accepted, he spent months in preparation, taking lessons in Hindi diction, learning to ride horses and handle weapons. He feels the role has changed him. Studying the Bhagwad Gita, he said, has been crucial in helping him make difficult choices. But it was unlikely to help with the toughest choice he faced that evening: which young woman to eliminate from the show. In the broadcast, Sheikh was confronted by 14 contesTHE CARAVAN| December 2013|

T H E

On a Saturday afternoon in late September, gaggles of hijab-clad women, many with young children in tow, swarmed outside the closed gates of an auditorium in Taman Mini, a popular recreational park in east Jakarta. A brawny, blackmaned figure wielding a bow and arrow pouted suggestively from a phalanx of promotional banners that lined the street, with the title Panah Asmara Arjuna—Arjuna’s Arrow of Love—printed above. Inside, a stage featuring two giant gilt thrones was being readied. Strobe lights criss-crossed the auditorium, and an overwrought score thundered from the sound system. This was the set for the live broadcast of Panah Asmara Arjuna’s second weekly elimination round. Advertised as a “maha reality show,” the Indonesian series follows a familiar trope: 15 young women start out sharing a house, and compete in daily challenges as they vie for the attention of a desirable hero. But in this case the hero happens to be someone who speaks no Indonesian, and had only been in the country for about a month when the show started: the Indian actor Shaheer Sheikh, who played Arjuna in the 2013 television series Mahabharat, an extravagant adaptation of the mythological epic by Star Plus. Every Saturday, the women line up on a stage, dubbed the “bharata yudha” zone, and Sheikh sends one of them home. The winner, who will be announced at the end of December, will travel with Sheikh to India. The Indonesian channel ANTV bought the rights to the Mahabharat from Star Plus, and started airing a dubbed version of the show this March. I first came across this Bahasa Indonesia Mahabharat in June, when I began to tune into ANTV every evening for its exclusive regional broadcasts of the FIFA World Cup. Mahabharat was aired just prior to each day’s opening matches. As I waited for well-built men to take to the football field, I ended up watching well-built men in faux-gold jewellery fighting with magical weapons instead. ANTV soon discovered that the ratings for the mythological series were higher

Set In Stone mumbai’s Muslim engraver of Jewish tombstones. Fair Play costumised playgrounds get disabled children active. Critical Mass an innovative publishing firm looks to crowd-source its sections For the Record the forgotten Delhi home of a Pakistani daily

wayang kulit masters, or dalang. Like most dalang, and like most wayang kulit audiences, Purbo Asmoro is Muslim. “These stories are allegorical,” he told me. “None of us take them as the literal truth.” He also said the Hindu epics promote values—for instance, the loyalty, courage and integrity of characters such as Ghatotkach and Bhim—that are affirmed by Islam. But those parallels aren’t essential; for many Indonesians, the Mahabharat is pure entertainment, akin to shows such as the hit HBO fantasy series Game of Thrones except with greater cultural resonance. Backstage on the Panah set, I also met Mahabharata actors Vin Rana and Lavanya Bharadwaj, who played, respectively, the twins Nakula and Sahadeva. Following the Jakarta stage show in October, in which they both took part, ANTV took the cast to Bali, the only island in Indonesia that remains predominantly Hindu today. They were met in person, the actors told me, by the Raja of Ubud, a Balinese town. Bharadwaj, a youngster from Meerut, recalled a Balinese fan ferreting away in her handbag, as though it were a treasure, an apple that he had half eaten. Rana, formerly a heavy-machinery parts importer from Pitampura in Delhi, spoke of a woman fainting when she saw him in the flesh. “They respect us so much over here,” Rana said solemnly. “Respect or desire?” I asked. He giggled nervously. Acquiring sex-symbol status by playing demigods has put the television Pandavas on awkward terrain. Meanwhile, “Arjuna” was gearing up for the stage. Sheikh listened intently, through an interpreter, to a headscarved young woman running him through the evening. Dressed casually, in sports clothes stretched tight across his muscular torso, he swatted with impressive accuracy at mosquitoes buzzing around the room. With his shoulder-length hair and well-defined six-pack, it was easy to see why the Jammu-born actor is the most popular member of the Mahabharat cast in Indonesia. Sheikh boasts 262,000 Twitter followers, the vast majority of whom, he said, are Indonesian. On the first day the dubbed Mahabharat was broadcast in the Twitter-mad country, he said, his following jumped by 30,000. Sheikh explained that when he was first approached to play the role of Arjuna, he had been reluctant, in part because his Hindi was poor. Once he accepted, he spent months in preparation, taking lessons in Hindi diction, learning to ride horses and handle weapons. He feels the

The popularity of a show based on the Mahabharata in Muslimmajority Indonesia might seem surprising,but Hindu epics are part of the country’s culture. WORDS Pallavi Aiyer

PHOTOS People Elephant December 2015| THE CARAVAN

Love of God

INDONESIA FALLS FOR AN INDIAN TELEVISION REMAKE OF THE MAHABHARATA

THELEDE

Photos

Post discussions with the section editors, I began the second round of explorations for the section openers of The Lede. This time around I was better aware of the problems that the design was expected to provide solutions to.

AAYUSH SON I

Round 2

Words

130

than those for the football. At its peak, the show reached 7.6 percent of Indonesia’s television viewership; the World Cup final reached only 6.2 percent. I met with Kelly da Cunha, ANTV’s general manager of production, in a boxy backstage room a few hours before filming for the Panah elimination round was to begin. Middle-aged and portly, da Cunha chuckled compulsively while recounting the numbers. “With these kinds of ratings, we decided to go further,” he explained. Early this October, ANTV brought seven Mahabharat cast members over from India to perform in a live, three-hour stage show in Jakarta. The programme consisted of interviews and assorted histrionics—such as the five Pandavas and their archenemies, Duryodhana and Karna, gyrating to music that, though loud, could not drown out the ululations of the hundreds-strong, largely female audience. The popularity of a show based on the Mahabharata in Muslim-majority Indonesia might seem surprising, but da Cunha explained that Hindu epics are part of the country’s culture. For centuries, many parts of the Indonesian archipelago were majority-Hindu. By the seventh century CE, Hindu–Buddhist kingdoms dominated both Java and Sumatra—Indonesia’s two most populous islands. Ever since, Hindu cultural norms have infused indigenous mores, even after largescale conversion to Islam in the sixteenth century. References to the epics are everywhere in Java—the language, the street signs, the political commentary. In Jakarta, many buses are painted with lurid advertisements for an energy drink called Kuku Bima, which promises Bhima-like endurance. An enormous statue of Krishna leading Arjun into battle dominates the roundabout in front of the Monas, the country’s main nationalist monument. There is a nationwide charitable foundation for twins named the Nakula and Sadewa Society. And one of the country’s bestselling novels, Amba, uses the story of Bhishma and Shikhandi (a later incarnation of Amba) to talk

LEDE

Indonesia falls for an Indian television remake of the Mahabharata

about Indonesia’s purges of communists in the mid 1960s. Wayang kulit, a form of shadow-puppet theatre that features tales from the Mahabharata and the Ramayana, can draw tens of thousands to performances in rural Java. Indonesians feel a real sense of ownership over the epics. In the mid nineteenth century, Ronggowarsito, a poet from a royal court in central Java, wrote an apocryphal history that traced the lineage of the Javanese kings back to the Pandavas. Eventually, many Indonesians came to believe that the Mahabharta was set in Java rather than India. But India still has special appeal. Da Cunha said that after ANTV aired the Star Plus Mahabharat, a rival channel began to broadcast an all-Indonesian version of the epic, Ksatria Pandawa Lima whose title translates to the “Five Pandava Knights.” The show flopped. The reason, da Cunha claimed, was that a local “copy” could not compare to the “Indian original.” Da Cunha added that stories from the Hindu epics are not really associated with religion by Indonesian audiences. Instead, they are understood as morality tales that happen to be embedded in the local culture. “Even Shaheer is a Muslim,” he pointed out, “so there is nothing religious here.” I heard much the same thing when, last year, I met Ki Purbo Asmoro, one of Indonesia’s most celebrated wayang kulit masters, or dalang. Like most dalang, and like most wayang kulit audiences, Purbo Asmoro is Muslim. “These stories are allegorical,” he told me. “None of us take them as the literal truth.” He also said the Hindu epics promote values—for instance, the loyalty, courage and integrity of characters such as Ghatotkach and Bhim—that are affirmed by Islam. But those parallels aren’t essential; for many Indonesians, the Mahabharat is pure entertainment, akin to shows such as the hit HBO fantasy series Game of Thrones except with greater cultural resonance. Backstage on the Panah set, I also met Mahabharata actors Vin Rana and Lavanya Bharadwaj, who played, respectively, the twins Nakula and Sahadeva. Following the Jakarta stage show in October, in which they both took part, ANTV took the cast to Bali, the only island in Indonesia that remains predominantly Hindu today. They were met in person, the actors told me, by the Raja of Ubud, a Balinese town. Bharadwaj, a youngster from Meerut, recalled a Balinese fan ferreting away in her handbag, as though it were a treasure, an apple that he had half eaten. Rana, formerly a heavy-machinery parts importer from Pitampura in Delhi, spoke of a woman fainting when she saw him in the flesh. “They respect us so much over here,” Rana said solemnly. “Respect or desire?” I asked. He giggled nervously. Acquiring sex-symbol status by playing demigods has put the television Pandavas on awkward terrain. Meanwhile, “Arjuna” was gearing up for the stage. Sheikh listened intently, through an interpreter, to a headscarved young woman running him through the evening. Dressed casually, in sports clothes stretched tight across his muscular torso, he swatted with impressive accuracy at mosquitoes buzzing around the room. With his shoulder-length hair and well-defined six-pack, it was easy to see why the Jammu-born actor is the most popular member of the Mahabharat cast in Indonesia. Sheikh boasts 262,000 Twitter followers, the vast majority of whom, he said, are Indonesian. On the first day the dubbed Mahabharat was broadcast in the Twitter-mad country, he said, his following

jumped by 30,000. Sheikh explained that when he was first approached to play the role of Arjuna, he had been reluctant, in part because his Hindi was poor. Once he accepted, he spent months in preparation, taking lessons in Hindi diction, learning to ride horses and handle weapons. He feels the role has changed him. Studying the Bhagwad Gita, he said, has been crucial in helping him make difficult choices. But it was unlikely to help with the toughest choice he faced that evening: which young woman to eliminate from the show. In the broadcast, Sheikh was confronted by 14 contestants, or dewis, resplendent in anarkali-style kurtas. Over almost two and a half hours of high drama occasionally punctuated by dancing, he whittled the group down to five candidates for elimination. The girl he eventually sent away managed a wan smile when Sheikh pressed a locket he was wearing upon her as a keepsake. The episode concluded with “Arjuna” and the dewis dancing to the Bollywood hit ‘London thumakda.’ ANTV hopes to cash in even further on the Mahabharat craze. It intends to broadcast another live stage show from Jakarta this month, with an expanded cast including the Mahabharat characters of Bhishma, Draupadi, Shakuni and Kunti in addition to the five Pandavas. In a bit of cross-epic fertilisation, the channel also plans to invite the actors who played Rama, Sita and Hanuman in Zee TV’s 2012 Ramayana (which ANTV dubbed and aired earlier this year as well). Da Cuhna told me he believes the “soft power” of Indian pop culture has great potential in Indonesia. A year ago the craze was for Korean pop and culture, he said, but “at ANTV we want to replace that with Indian pop.” The channel plans to market Indian fashion accessories, clothes and music in addition to airing imported television serials. Da Cuhna, who has made a career of spotting cultural trends, was bullish: “India is going to be the new Korea of culture.”

THE POPULARITY OF A SHOW BASED ON THE MAHABHARATA IN MUSLIM MAJORITY INDONESIA MIGHT SEEM SURPRISING

Silent Strength

A champion Deaf Wrestler Struggles for Reconition

Silent Strength

A champion Deaf Wrestler Struggles for Reconition

street, with the tle Panah Asmara Arjuna—Arjuna’s Arrow of Love—printed above. Inside, a stage featuring two giant gilt thrones was being readied. Strobe lights criss-crossed the auditorium, and an

Plus, and started airing a dubbed version of the show this March. I first came across this Bahasa Indonesia Mahabharat in June, when I began to tune into ANTV every evening for its exclusive regional broadcasts of the FIFA World Cup. Mahabharat was aired just prior to each day’s opening matches. As I waited for well-built men to take to the football field, I ended up watching well-built men in faux-gold jewellery fighting with magical weapons instead. ANTV soon discovered that the ratings for the mythological series were higher than those for the football. At its peak, the show reached 7.6 percent of Indonesia’s television viewership; the World Cup final reached only 6.2 percent. I met with Kelly da Cunha, ANTV’s general manager of production, in a boxy backstage room a few hours before filming for

overwrought score thundered from the sound system. This was the set for the live broadcast of Panah Asmara Arjuna’s second weekly elimination round. Advertised as a “maha reality show,” the Indonesian series follows a familiar trope: 15 young women start out sharing a house, and compete in daily challenges as they vie for the attention of a desirable hero. But in this case the hero happens to be someone who speaks no Indonesian, and had only been in the country for about a month when the show started: the Indian actor Shaheer Sheikh, who played Arjuna in the 2013 television series Mahabharat, an extravagant adaptation of the mythological epic by Star Plus. Every Saturday, the women line up on a stage, dubbed the “bharata yudha” zone, and Sheikh sends one of them home. The winner, who will be announced at the end of December, will travel with Sheikh to India. The Indonesian channel ANTV bought the rights to the Mahabharat from Star

the Panah elimination round was to begin. Middle-aged and portly, da Cunha chuckled compulsively while recounting the numbers. “With these kinds of ratings, we decided to go further,” he explained. Early this October, ANTV brought seven Mahabharat cast members over from India to perform in a live, three-hour stage show in Jakarta. The programme consisted of interviews and assorted histrionics—such as the five Pandavas and their archenemies, Duryodhana and Karna, gyrating to music that, though loud, could not drown out the ululations of the hundreds-strong, largely female audience. The popularity of a show based on the Mahabharata in Muslim-majority Indonesia might seem surprising, but da Cunha explained that Hindu epics are part of the country’s culture. For centuries, many parts of the Indonesian archipelago were majority-Hindu. By the seventh century CE, Hindu–Buddhist kingdoms dominated both Java and Sumatra—Indonesia’s

ti-

Love of God

Words: Pallavi Aiyer

Image: TV Archive

I heard much the same thing when, last year, I met Ki Purbo Asmoro, one of Indonesia’s most celebrated wayang kulit masters, or dalang. Like most dalang, and like most wayang kulit audiences, Purbo Asmoro is Muslim. “These stories are allegorical,” he told me. “None of us take them as the literal truth.” He also said the Hindu epics promote values—for instance, the loyalty, courage and integrity of characters such as Ghatotkach and Bhim—that are affirmed by Islam. But those parallels aren’t essential; for many Indonesians, the Mahabharat is pure entertainment, akin to shows such as the hit HBO fantasy series Game of Thrones except with greater cultural resonance. Backstage on the Panah set, I also met Mahabharata actors Vin Rana and Lavanya Bharadwaj, who played, respectively, the twins Nakula and Sahadeva. Following the Jakarta stage show in October, in which they both took part, ANTV took the cast to Bali, the only island in Indonesia that remains predominantly Hindu today. They were met in person, the actors told me, by the Raja of Ubud, a Balinese town. Bharadwaj, a youngster from Meerut, recalled a Balinese fan ferreting away in her handbag, as though it were a treasure, an apple that he had half eaten. Rana, formerly a heavy-machinery parts importer from Pitampura in Delhi, spoke of a woman fainting when she saw him in the flesh. “They respect us so much over here,” Rana said solemnly. “Respect or desire?” I asked. He giggled nervously. Acquiring sex-symbol status by playing demigods has put the television Pandavas on awkward terrain. Meanwhile, “Arjuna” was gearing up for the stage. Sheikh listened intently, through an interpreter, to a headscarved young woman running him through the evening. Dressed casually, in sports clothes stretched tight across his muscular torso, he swatted with impressive accuracy at mosquitoes buzzing around the room. With his shoulder-length hair and well-defined six-pack, it was easy to see

why the Jammu-born actor is the most popular member of the Mahabharat cast in Indonesia. Sheikh boasts 262,000 Twitter followers, the vast majority of whom,

her as a keepsake. The episode concluded with “Arjuna” and the dewis dancing to the Bollywood hit ‘London thumakda.’ ANTV hopes to cash in even further

Silent Strength

A champion Deaf Wrestler Struggles for Reconition

two most populous islands. Ever since, Hindu cultural norms have infused indigenous mores, even after large-scale conversion to Islam in the sixteenth century. References to the epics are everywhere in Java—the language, the street signs, the political commentary. In Jakarta, many buses are painted with lurid advertisements for an energy drink called Kuku Bima, which promises Bhima-like endurance. An enormous statue of Krishna leading Arjun into battle dominates the roundabout in front of the Monas, the country’s main nationalist monument. There is a nationwide charitable foundation for twins named the Nakula and Sadewa Society. And one of the country’s bestselling novels, Amba, uses the story of Bhishma and Shikhandi (a later incarnation of Amba) to talk about Indonesia’s purges of communists in the mid 1960s. Wayang kulit, a form of shadow-puppet theatre that features tales from the Mahabharata and the Ramayana, can draw tens of thousands to performances in rural Java. Indonesians feel a real sense of ownership over the epics. In the mid nineteenth century, Ronggowarsito, a poet from a royal court in central Java, wrote an apocryphal history that traced the lineage of the Javanese kings back to the Pandavas. Eventually, many Indonesians came to believe that the Mahabharta was set in Java rather than India. But India still has special appeal. Da Cunha said that after ANTV aired the Star Plus Mahabharat, a rival channel began to broadcast an all-Indonesian version of the epic, Ksatria Pandawa Lima whose title translates to the “Five Pandava Knights.” The show flopped. The reason, da Cunha claimed, was that a local “copy” could not compare to the “Indian original.” Da Cunha added that stories from the Hindu epics are not really associated with religion by Indonesian audiences. Instead, they are understood as morality tales that happen to be embedded in the local culture. “Even Shaheer is a Muslim,” he pointed out, “so there is nothing religious here.”

he said, are Indonesian. On the first day the dubbed Mahabharat was broadcast in the Twitter-mad country, he said, his following jumped by 30,000. Sheikh explained that when he was first approached to play the role of Arjuna, he had been reluctant, in part because his Hindi was poor. Once he accepted, he spent months in preparation, taking lessons in Hindi diction, learning to ride horses and handle weapons. He feels the role has changed him. Studying the Bhagwad Gita, he said, has been crucial in helping him make difficult choices. But it was unlikely to help with the toughest choice he faced that evening: which young woman to eliminate from the show. In the broadcast, Sheikh was confronted by 14 contestants, or dewis, resplendent in anarkali-style kurtas. Over almost two and a half hours of high drama occasionally punctuated by dancing, he whittled the group down to five candidates for elimination. The girl he eventually sent away managed a wan smile when Sheikh pressed a locket he was wearing upon

on the Mahabharat craze. It intends to broadcast another live stage show from Jakarta this month, with an expanded cast including the Mahabharat characters of Bhishma, Draupadi, Shakuni and Kunti in addition to the five Pandavas. In a bit of cross-epic fertilisation, the channel also plans to invite the actors who played Rama, Sita and Hanuman in Zee TV’s 2012 Ramayana (which ANTV dubbed and aired earlier this year as well). Da Cuhna told me he believes the “soft power” of Indian pop culture has great potential in Indonesia. A year ago the craze was for Korean pop and culture, he said, but “at ANTV we want to replace that with Indian pop.” The channel plans to market Indian fashion accessories, clothes and music in addition to airing imported television serials. Da Cuhna, who has made a career of spotting cultural trends, was bullish: “India is going to be the new Korea of culture.” s

“With these kinds of ratings, we decided to go further,” he explained. Early this October, ANTV brought seven Mahabharat cast members over from India to perform in a live, three-hour stage show in Jakarta. The programme consisted of interviews and assorted histrionics—such as the five Pandavas and their archenemies, Duryodhana and Karna, gyrating to music that, though loud, could not drown out the ululations of the hundreds-strong, largely female audience. The popularity of a show based on the Mahabharata in Muslim-majority Indonesia might seem surprising, but da Cunha explained that Hindu epics are part of the country’s culture. For centuries, many parts of the Indonesian archipelago were majority-Hindu. By the seventh century CE, Hindu–Buddhist kingdoms dominated both Java and Sumatra— Indonesia’s two most populous islands. Ever since, Hindu cultural norms have infused indigenous mores, even after large-scale conversion to Islam in the sixteenth century. References to the epics are everywhere in Java—the language, the street signs, the political commentary. In Jakarta, many buses are painted with lurid advertisements for an energy drink called Kuku Bima, which promises Bhima-like endurance. An enormous statue of Krishna leading Arjun into battle dominates the roundabout in front of the Monas, the country’s main nationalist monument. There is a nationwide charitable foundation for twins named the Nakula and Sadewa Society. And one of the country’s bestselling novels, Amba, uses the story of Bhishma and Shikhandi (a later incarnation of Amba) to talk about Indonesia’s purges of communists in the mid 1960s. Wayang kulit, a form of shadow-puppet theatre that features tales from the Mahabharata and the Ramayana, can draw tens of

Love of God

Da Cuhna told me he believes the “soft power” of Indian pop culture has great potential in Indonesia. A year ago the craze was for Korean pop and culture, he said, but “at ANTV we want to replace that with Indian pop.” The channel plans to market Indian fashion accessories, clothes and music in addition to airing imported television serials. Da Cuhna, who has made a career of spotting cultural trends, was bullish: “India is going to be the new Korea of culture.”

Love of God

Words Pallavi Aiyer

gestively from a phalanx of promotional banners that lined the street, with the title Panah Asmara Arjuna—Arjuna’s Arrow of Love—printed above.W

Inside, a stage featuring two giant gilt thrones was being readied. Strobe lights criss- archipelago were majority-Hindu. By the crossed the auditorium, and an overwrought score thundered from the sound system. seventh century CE, Hindu–Buddhist This was the set for the live broadcast of Panah Asmara Arjuna’s second weekly elim- kingdoms dominated both Java and Suination round. Advertised as a “maha reality show,” the Indonesian series follows a matra—Indonesia’s two most populous familiar trope: 15 young women start out sharing a house, and compete in daily chal- islands. Ever since, Hindu cultural norms lenges as they vie for the attention of a desirable hero. But in this case the hero happens have infused indigenous mores, even afto be someone who speaks no Indonesian, and had only been in the country for about a ter large-scale conversion to Islam in the month when the show started: the Indian actor Shaheer Sheikh, who played Arjuna in sixteenth century. the 2013 television series Mahabharat, an extravagant adaptation of the mythological References to the epics are everywhere in epic by Star Plus. Every Saturday, the women line up on a stage, dubbed the “bharata Java—the language, the street signs, the yudha” zone, and Sheikh sends one of them home. The winner, who will be announced political commentary. In Jakarta, many buses are painted with lurid advertiseat the end of December, will travel with Sheikh to India. The Indonesian channel ANTV bought the rights to the Mahabharat from Star Plus, ments for an energy drink called Kuku and started airing a dubbed version of the show this March. I first came across this Bima, which promises Bhima-like enBahasa Indonesia Mahabharat in June, when I began to tune into ANTV every evening durance. An enormous statue of Krishna for its exclusive regional broadcasts of the FIFA World Cup. Mahabharat was aired leading Arjun into battle dominates the just prior to each day’s opening matches. As I waited for well-built men to take to the roundabout in front of the Monas, the football field, I ended up watching well-built men in faux-gold jewellery fighting with country’s main nationalist monument. There is a nationwide charitable founmagical weapons instead. ANTV soon discovered that the ratings for the mythologdation for twins named the Nakula and ical series were higher than those for the Sadewa Society. And one of the country’s football. At its peak, the show reached 7.6 bestselling novels, Amba, uses the story of Bhishma and Shikhandi (a later incarnation percent of Indonesia’s television viewer- of Amba) to talk about Indonesia’s purges of communists in the mid 1960s. ship; the World Cup final reached only Wayang kulit, a form of shadow-puppet theatre that features tales from the Mahabharata and the Ramayana, can draw tens of thousands to performances in rural Java. Indo6.2 percent. I met with Kelly da Cunha, ANTV’s gen- nesians feel a real sense of ownership over the epics. In the mid nineteenth century, eral manager of production, in a boxy Ronggowarsito, a poet from a royal court in central Java, wrote an apocryphal history backstage room a few hours before film- that traced the lineage of the Javanese kings back to the Pandavas. Eventually, many ing for the Panah elimination round Indonesians came to believe that the Mahabharta was set in Java rather than India. was to begin. Middle-aged and portly, But India still has special appeal. Da Cunha said that after ANTV aired the Star Plus da Cunha chuckled compulsively while Mahabharat, a rival channel began to broadcast an all-Indonesian version of the epic, recounting the numbers. “With these Ksatria Pandawa Lima whose title translates to the “Five Pandava Knights.” The show kinds of ratings, we decided to go fur- flopped. The reason, da Cunha claimed, was that a local “copy” could not compare to ther,” he explained. Early this October, the “Indian original.” ANTV brought seven Mahabharat cast Da Cunha added that stories from the Hindu epics are not really associated with relimembers over from India to perform in gion by Indonesian audiences. Instead, they are understood as morality tales that hapa live, three-hour stage show in Jakarta. pen to be embedded in the local culture. “Even Shaheer is a Muslim,” he pointed out, The programme consisted of interviews “so there is nothing religious here.” and assorted histrionics—such as the five I heard much the same thing when, last year, I met Ki Purbo Asmoro, one of IndoPandavas and their archenemies, Duryo- nesia’s most celebrated wayang kulit masters, or dalang. Like most dalang, and like dhana and Karna, gyrating to music that, most wayang kulit audiences, Purbo Asmoro is Muslim. “These stories are allegorical,” though loud, could not drown out the he told me. “None of us take them as the literal truth.” He also said the Hindu epics ululations of the hundreds-strong, largely promote values—for instance, the loyalty, courage and integrity of characters such as Ghatotkach and Bhim—that are affirmed by Islam. But those parallels aren’t essential; female audience. The popularity of a show based on the for many Indonesians, the Mahabharat is pure entertainment, akin to shows such as Mahabharata in Muslim-majority Indo- the hit HBO fantasy series Game of Thrones except with greater cultural resonance. Backstage on the Panah set, I also met Mahabharata actors Vin Rana and Lavanya Bhanesia might seem surprising, but da radwaj, who played, respectively, the twins Nakula and Sahadeva. Following the JaCunha explained that Hindu epics are karta stage show in October, in which they both took part, ANTV took the cast to Bali, part of the country’s culture. For centhe only island in Indonesia that remains predominantly Hindu today. They were met turies, many parts of the Indonesian

thousands to performances in rural Java. Indonesians feel a real sense of ownership over the epics. In the mid nineteenth century, Ronggowarsito, a poet from a royal court in central Java, wrote an apocryphal history that traced the lineage of the Javanese kings back to the Pandavas. Eventually, many Indonesians came to believe that the Mahabharta was set in Java rather than India. But India still has special appeal. Da Cunha said that after ANTV aired the Star Plus Mahabharat, a rival channel began to broadcast an all-Indonesian version of the epic, Ksatria Pandawa Lima whose title translates to the “Five Pandava Knights.” The show flopped. The reason, da Cunha claimed, was that a local “copy” could not compare to the “Indian original.” Da Cunha added that stories from the Hindu epics are not really associated with religion by Indonesian audiences. Instead, they are understood as morality tales that happen to be embedded in the local culture. “Even Shaheer is a Muslim,” he pointed out, “so there is nothing religious here.” I heard much the same thing when, last year, I met Ki Purbo Asmoro, one of Indonesia’s most celebrated wayang kulit masters, or dalang. Like most dalang, and like most wayang kulit audiences, Purbo Asmoro is Muslim. “These stories are allegorical,” he told me. “None of us take them as the literal truth.” He also said the Hindu epics promote values—for instance, the loyalty, courage and integrity of characters such as Ghatotkach and Bhim—that are affirmed by Islam. But those parallels aren’t essential; for many Indonesians, the Mahabharat is pure entertainment, akin to shows such as the hit HBO fantasy series Game of Thrones except with greater cultural resonance. Backstage on the Panah set, I also met Mahabharata actors Vin Rana and Lavanya Bharadwaj, who played, respectively, the twins Nakula and Sahadeva. Following the Jakarta stage show in October, in which they both took part, ANTV took the cast to Bali, the only island in Indonesia that remains predominantly Hindu today. They were met in person, the actors told me, by the Raja of Ubud, a Balinese town. Bharadwaj, a youngster from Meerut, recalled a Balinese fan ferreting away in her handbag, as though it were a treasure, an apple that he had half eaten. Rana, formerly a heavy-machinery parts importer from Pitampura in Delhi, spoke of a woman fainting when she saw him in the flesh. “They respect us so much over here,” Rana said solemnly. “Respect or desire?” I asked. He giggled nervously. Acquiring sex-symbol status by playing demigods has put the television Pandavas on awkward terrain. Meanwhile, “Arjuna” was gearing up for the stage. Sheikh lis-

Images Pallavi Aiyer

in person, the actors told me, by the Raja of Ubud, a Balinese town. Bharadwaj, a youngster from Meerut, recalled a Balinese fan ferreting away in her handbag, as though it were a treasure, an apple that he had half eaten. Rana, formerly a heavy-machinery parts importer from Pitampura in Delhi, spoke of a woman fainting when she saw him in the flesh. “They respect us so much over here,” Rana said solemnly. “Respect or desire?” I asked. He giggled nervously. Acquiring sex-symbol status by playing demigods has put the television Pandavas on awkward terrain. Meanwhile, “Arjuna” was gearing up for the stage. Sheikh listened intently, through an interpreter, to a headscarved young woman running him through the evening. Dressed casually, in sports clothes stretched tight across his muscular torso, he swatted with impressive accuracy at mosquitoes buzzing around the room. With his shoulder-length hair and well-defined six-pack, it was easy to see why the Jammu-born actor is the most popular member of the Mahabharat cast in Indonesia. Sheikh boasts 262,000 Twitter followers, the vast majority of whom, he said, are Indonesian. On the first day the dubbed Mahabharat was broadcast in the Twitter-mad country, he said, his following jumped by 30,000. Sheikh explained that when he was first approached to play the role of Arjuna, he had been reluctant, in part because his Hindi was poor. Once he accepted, he spent months in preparation, taking

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Inside, a stage featuring two giant gilt thrones was being readied. Strobe lights criss-crossed the auditorium, and an overwrought score thundered from the sound system. This was the set for the live broadcast of Panah Asmara Arjuna’s second weekly elimination round. Advertised as a “maha reality show,” the Indonesian series follows a familiar trope: 15 young women start out sharing a house, and compete in daily challenges as they vie for the attention of a desirable hero. But in this case the hero happens to be someone who speaks no Indonesian, and had only been in the country for about a month when the show started: the Indian actor Shaheer Sheikh, who played Arjuna in the 2013 television series Mahabharat, an extravagant adaptation of the mythological epic by Star Plus. Every Saturday, the women line up on a stage, dubbed the “bharata yudha” zone, and Sheikh sends one of them home. The winner, who will be announced at the end of December, will travel with Sheikh to India. The Indonesian channel ANTV bought the rights to the Mahabharat from Star Plus, and started airing a dubbed version of the show this March. I first came across this Bahasa Indonesia Mahabharat in June, when I began to tune into ANTV every evening for its exclusive regional broadcasts of the FIFA World Cup. Mahabharat was aired just prior to each day’s opening matches. As I waited for well-built men to take to the football field, I ended up watching well-built men in fauxgold jewellery fighting with magical weapons instead. ANTV soon discovered that the ratings for the mythological series were higher than those for the football. At its peak, the show reached 7.6 percent of Indonesia’s television viewership; the World Cup final reached only 6.2 percent. I met with Kelly da Cunha, ANTV’s general manager of production, in a boxy backstage room a few hours before filming for the Panah elimination round was to begin. Middle-aged and portly, da Cunha chuckled compulsively while recounting the numbers.

tened intently, through an interpreter, to a headscarved young woman running him through the evening. Dressed casually, in sports clothes stretched tight across his muscular torso, he swatted with impressive accuracy at mosquitoes buzzing around the room. With his shoulder-length hair and well-defined six-pack, it was easy to see why the Jammu-born actor is the most popular member of the Mahabharat cast in Indonesia. Sheikh boasts 262,000 Twitter followers, the vast majority of whom, he said, are Indonesian. On the first day the dubbed Mahabharat was broadcast in the Twitter-mad country, he said, his following jumped by 30,000. Sheikh explained that when he was first approached to play the role of Arjuna, he had been reluctant, in part because his Hindi was poor. Once he accepted, he spent months in preparation, taking lessons in Hindi diction, learning to ride horses and handle weapons. He feels the role has changed him. Studying the Bhagwad Gita, he said, has been crucial in helping him make difficult choices. But it was unlikely to help with the toughest choice he faced that evening: which young woman to eliminate from the show. In the broadcast, Sheikh was confronted by 14 contestants, or dewis, resplendent in anarkali-style kurtas. Over almost two and a half hours of high drama occasionally punctuated by dancing, he whittled the group down to five candidates for elimination. The girl he eventually sent away managed a wan smile when Sheikh pressed a locket he was wearing upon her as a keepsake. The episode concluded with “Arjuna” and the dewis dancing to the Bollywood hit ‘London thumakda.’ ANTV hopes to cash in even further on the Mahabharat craze. It intends to broadcast another live stage show from Jakarta this month, with an expanded cast including the Mahabharat characters of Bhishma, Draupadi, Shakuni and Kunti in addition to the five Pandavas. In a bit of cross-epic fertilisation, the channel also plans to invite the actors who played Rama, Sita and Hanuman in Zee TV’s 2012 Ramayana (which ANTV dubbed and aired earlier this year as well). Da Cuhna told me he believes the “soft power” of Indian pop culture has great potential in Indonesia. A year ago the craze was for Korean pop and culture, he said, but “at ANTV we want to replace that with Indian pop.” The channel plans to market Indian fashion accessories, clothes and music in addition to airing imported television serials. Da Cuhna, who has made a career of spotting cultural trends, was bullish: “India is going to be the new Korea of culture.”

lessons in Hindi diction, learning to ride horses and handle weapons. He feels the role has changed him. Studying the Bhagwad Gita, he said, has been crucial in helping him make difficult choices. But it was unlikely to help with the toughest choice he faced that evening: which young woman to eliminate from the show. In the broadcast, Sheikh was confronted by 14 contestants, or dewis, resplendent in anarkali-style kurtas. Over almost two and a half hours of high drama occasionally punctuated by dancing, he whittled the group down to five candidates for elimination. The girl he eventually sent away managed a wan smile when Sheikh pressed a locket he was wearing upon her as a keepsake. The episode concluded with “Arjuna” and the dewis dancing to the Bollywood hit ‘London thumakda.’ ANTV hopes to cash in even further on the Mahabharat craze. It intends to broadcast another live stage show from Jakarta this month, with an expanded cast including the Mahabharat characters of Bhishma, Draupadi, Shakuni and Kunti in addition to the five Pandavas. In a bit of cross-epic fertilisation, the channel also plans to invite the actors who played Rama, Sita and Hanuman in Zee TV’s 2012 Ramayana (which ANTV dubbed and aired earlier this year as well). Da Cuhna told me he believes the “soft power” of Indian pop culture has great potential in Indonesia. A year ago the craze was for Korean pop and culture, he said, but “at ANTV we want to replace that with Indian pop.” The channel plans

Indonesia falls for an Indian television remake of the Mahabharata

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Being the first batch of tangible outcome shared with the editorial team, these explorations became a way for us to better judge what the editors wanted. Up until this point, all the discussions had been largely verbal. But once we sat to discuss the pros and cons of the explored layouts, the editors started responding to the design in more concrete terms. This clarity of opinion, was crucial for us as it helped us define the parameters within which we needed to create the design.

to market Indian fashion accessories, clothes and music in addition to airing imported television serials. Da Cuhna, who has made a career of spotting cultural trends, was bullish: “India is going to be the new Korea of culture.”

Silent Strength A champion deaf wrestler struggles for recognition One evening in late April, inside Delhi’s Chhatrasal Stadium, about sixty men circled up for a warm-up session. In the centre stood Virender Singh, a compact, muscular man who proceeded to demonstrate brief routines for limbering up, each lasting about ten seconds, which the group replicated. The session would have been unremarkable had it not taken place in almost complete silence; there was no banter or spoken instruction, only the huffing and puffing of the men punctuated by louds claps from Singh to signal the end of each routine. Virender Singh, better known as Goonga Pehelwan—literally “deaf wrestler”—is one of India’s most successful deaf athletes. The group he led in warming up were all competitive wrestlers, sponsored in varying degrees by the government, who live and train together at the stadium. Among them that evening were distinguished wrestlers such as the multiple Olympic medalist Sushil Kumar. Singh has won a medal at each of the five international competitions he has participated in, including a gold each at the 2005 and 2013 Deaflympics, which are sanctioned by the International Olympic Committee. Yet, while success has brought recognition and financial benefits to wrestlers such as Kumar, and to others whose accomplishments do not compare to Singh’s, Singh himself continues to toil with little tangible reward. I asked Singh, through an interpreter, whether I should call him Virender or, as the rest of the wrestlers referred to him, Goonga. “Anything,” he signed in a version of Indian Sign Language, and chuckled. Singh is 31 years old, and lost his hearing before he turned one,

Graduation Project 2015

131

132 THE LEDE

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Indonesia falls for an Indian television remake of the Mahabharata

Indonesia PAGE 09

weekly elimination round. Advertised as a “maha reality show,” the Indonesian series follows a familiar trope: 15 young women start out sharing a house, and compete in daily challenges as they vie for the attention of a desirable hero. But in this case the hero happens to be someone who speaks no Indonesian, and had only been in the country for about a month when the show started: the Indian actor Shaheer Sheikh, who played Arjuna in the 2013 television series Mahabharat, an extravagant adaptation of the mythological epic by Star Plus. Every Saturday, the women line up on a stage, dubbed the “bharata yudha” zone, and Sheikh sends one of them home. The winner, who will be announced at the end

of December, will travel with Sheikh to India. The Indonesian channel ANTV bought the rights to the Mahabharat from Star Plus, and started airing a dubbed version of the show this March. I first came across this Bahasa Indonesia Mahabharat in June, when I began to tune into ANTV every evening for its exclusive regional broadcasts of the FIFA World Cup. Mahabharat was aired just prior to each day’s opening matches. As I waited for well-built men to take to the football field, I ended up watching well-built men in faux-gold jewellery fighting with magical weapons instead. ANTV soon discovered that the ratings for the mythological series were higher than those for the football. At its peak, the show reached 7.6 percent of Indonesia’s television viewership; the World Cup final reached only 6.2 percent. I met with Kelly da Cunha, ANTV’s general manager of production, in a boxy backstage room a few hours before filming for the Panah elimination round was to begin. Middle-aged and portly, da Cunha chuckled compulsively while recounting the numbers. “With these kinds of ratings, we decided to go further,” he explained. Early this October, ANTV brought seven Mahabharat cast members over from India to perform in a live, three-hour stage show in Jakarta. The programme consisted of interviews and assorted histrionics—such as the five Pandavas and their archenemies, Duryodhana and Karna, gyrating to music that, though loud, could not drown out the ululations of the hundreds-strong, largely female audience. The popularity of a show based on the Mahabharata in Muslim-majority Indonesia might seem surprising, but da Cunha explained that Hindu epics are part of the country’s culture. For centuries, many parts of the Indonesian archipelago were majority-Hindu. By the seventh century CE, Hindu–Buddhist kingdoms dominated both Java and Sumatra—Indonesia’s two most populous islands. Ever since, Hindu cultural norms have

The popularity of a show based on the Mahabharata in Muslim-majority Indonesia might seem surprising,but Hindu epics are part of the country’s culture. infused indigenous mores, even after large-scale conversion to Islam in the sixteenth century. References to the epics are everywhere in Java—the language, the street signs, the political commentary. In Jakarta, many buses are painted with lurid advertisements for an energy drink called Kuku Bima, which promises Bhima-like endurance. An enormous statue of Krishna leading Arjun into battle dominates the roundabout in front of the Monas, the country’s main nationalist monument. There is a nationwide charitable foundation for twins named the Nakula and Sadewa Society. And one of the country’s bestselling novels, Amba, uses the story of Bhishma and Shikhandi (a later incarnation of Amba) to talk about Indonesia’s purges of communists in the mid 1960s. Wayang kulit, a form of shadow-puppet theatre that features tales from the Mahabharata and the Ramayana, can draw tens of thousands to performances in rural Java. Indonesians feel a real sense of ownership over the epics. In the mid nineteenth century, Ronggowarsito, a poet from a royal court in central Java, wrote an apocryphal history that traced the lineage of the Javanese kings back to the Pandavas. Eventually, many Indonesians came to believe that the Mahabharta was set in Java rather than India. But India still has special appeal. Da Cunha said that after ANTV aired the Star Plus Mahabharat, a rival channel began to broadcast an all-Indonesian version of the epic, Ksatria Pandawa Lima whose title translates to the “Five Pandava Knights.” The show flopped. The reason, da Cunha claimed, was that a local “copy” could not compare to the “Indian original.”

Da Cunha added that stories from the Hindu epics are not really associated with religion by Indonesian audiences. Instead, they are understood as morality tales that happen to be embedded in the local culture. “Even Shaheer is a Muslim,” he pointed out, “so there is nothing religious here.” I heard much the same thing when, last year, I met Ki Purbo Asmoro, one of Indonesia’s most celebrated wayang kulit masters, or dalang. Like most dalang, and like most wayang kulit audiences, Purbo Asmoro is Muslim. “These stories are allegorical,” he told me. “None of us take them as the literal truth.” He also said the Hindu epics promote values—for instance, the loyalty, courage and integrity of characters such as Ghatotkach and Bhim—that are affirmed by Islam. But those parallels aren’t essential; for many Indonesians, the Mahabharat is pure entertainment, akin to shows such as the hit HBO fantasy series Game of Thrones except with greater cultural resonance. Backstage on the Panah set, I also met Mahabharata actors Vin Rana and Lavanya Bharadwaj, who played, respectively, the twins Nakula and Sahadeva. Following the Jakarta stage show in October, in which they both took part, ANTV took the cast to Bali, the only island in Indonesia that remains predominantly Hindu today. They were met in person, the actors told me, by the Raja of Ubud, a Balinese town. Bharadwaj, a youngster from Meerut, recalled a Balinese fan ferreting away in her handbag, as though it were a treasure, an apple that he had half eaten. Rana, formerly a heavy-machinery parts importer from Pitampura in Delhi, spoke of a woman fainting when she saw him in the flesh. “They respect us so much over here,” Rana said solemnly. “Respect or desire?” I asked. He giggled nervously.

THE LEDE

TELEVSION

Words AAYUSH SONI Photos PEOPLE ELEPHANT

Love of God

Indonesia falls for an Indian television remake of the Mahabharata

Indonesia

Shortlisted Design #1 of December, will travel with Sheikh to India. The Indonesian channel ANTV bought the rights to the Mahabharat from Star Plus, and started airing a dubbed version of the show this March. I first came across this Bahasa Indonesia Mahabharat in June, when I began to tune into ANTV every evening for its exclusive regional broadcasts of the FIFA World Cup. Mahabharat was aired just prior to each day’s opening matches. As I waited for well-built men to take to the football field, I ended up watching well-built men in faux-gold jewellery fighting with magical weapons instead. ANTV soon discovered that the ratings for the mythological series were higher than those for the football. At its peak, the show reached 7.6 percent of Indonesia’s television viewership; the World Cup final reached only 6.2 percent. I met with Kelly da Cunha, ANTV’s general manager of production, in a boxy backstage room a few hours before filming for the Panah elimination round was to begin. Middle-aged and portly, da Cunha chuckled compulsively while recounting the numbers. “With these kinds of ratings, we decided to go further,” he explained. Early this October, ANTV brought seven Mahabharat cast members over from India to perform in a live, three-hour stage show in Jakarta. The programme consisted of interviews and assorted histrionics—such as the five Pandavas and their archenemies, Duryodhana and Karna, gyrating to music that, though loud, could not drown out the ululations of the hundreds-strong, largely female audience. The popularity of a show based on the Mahabharata in Muslim-majority Indonesia might seem surprising, but da Cunha explained that Hindu epics are part of the country’s culture. For centuries, many parts of the Indonesian archipelago were majority-Hindu. By the seventh century CE, Hindu–Buddhist kingdoms dominated both Java and Sumatra—Indonesia’s two most populous islands. Ever since, Hindu cultural norms have

THE CARAVAN| December 2015

December 2015| THE CARAVAN

Shortlisted Design #2 In this design the ‘story number’ was played up. Since in every issue The Lede carries 5 short pieces on different themes, we tried to promote it as a ‘nugget’ section where the reader comes expecting 5 different pieces each month.

This design direction was radical since we decided to blow up the slug and make it most visually prominent element on the page. The idea was to promote The Lede as an eclectic section that brings to the readers a wide range of themes each month.

THE LEDE Pallavi Iyer

01 TELEVISION/ INDONESIA

LOVE OF GOD

Indonesia falls for an Indian television remake of the Mahabharata On a Saturday afternoon in late September, gaggles of hijab-clad women, many with young children in tow, swarmed outside the closed gates of an auditorium in Taman Mini, a popular recreational park in east Jakarta. A brawny, black-maned figure wielding a bow and arrow pouted suggestively from a phalanx of promotional banners that lined the street, with the title Panah Asmara Arjuna—Arjuna’s Arrow of Love— printed above. Inside, a stage featuring two giant gilt thrones was being readied. Strobe lights criss-crossed the auditorium, and an overwrought score thundered from the sound system. This was the set for the live broadcast of Panah Asmara Arjuna’s second weekly elimination round. Advertised as a “maha reality show,” the Indonesian series follows a familiar trope: 15 young women start out sharing a house, and compete in daily

28| December 2013| THE CARAVAN

challenges as they vie for the attention of a desirable hero. But in this case the hero happens to be someone who speaks no Indonesian, and had only been in the country for about a month when the show started: the Indian actor Shaheer Sheikh, who played Arjuna in the 2013 television series Mahabharat, an extravagant adaptation of the mythological epic by Star Plus. Every Saturday, the women line up on a stage, dubbed the “bharata yudha” zone, and Sheikh sends one of them home. The winner, who will be announced at the end of December, will travel with Sheikh to India. The Indonesian channel ANTV bought the rights to the Mahabharat from Star Plus, and started airing a dubbed version of the show this March. I first came across this Bahasa Indonesia Mahabharat in June, when I began to tune into ANTV every evening for its exclusive regional broadcasts of the FIFA World Cup. Mahabharat was aired just prior to each day’s opening matches. As I waited for well-built men to take to the football field, I ended up watching well-built men in faux-gold jewellery fighting with magical weapons instead. ANTV soon discovered that the ratings for the mythological series were higher than those for the football. At its peak, the show reached 7.6 percent of Indonesia’s television viewership; the World Cup final reached only 6.2 percent. I met with Kelly da Cunha, ANTV’s general manager of production, in a boxy backstage room a few hours before filming for the Panah elimination round was to begin. Middle-aged and portly, da Cunha chuckled compulsively while recounting the numbers. “With

these kinds of ratings, we decided to go further,” he explained. Early this October, ANTV brought seven Mahabharat cast members over from India to perform in a live, three-hour stage show in Jakarta. The programme consisted of interviews and assorted histrionics—such as the five Pandavas and their archenemies, Duryodhana and Karna, gyrating to music that, though loud, could not drown out the ululations of the hundreds-strong, largely female audience. The popularity of a show based on the Mahabharata in Muslim-majority Indonesia might seem surprising, but da Cunha explained that Hindu epics are part of the country’s culture. For centuries, many parts of the Indonesian archipelago were majorityHindu. By the seventh century CE, Hindu–Buddhist kingdoms dominated both Java and Sumatra—Indonesia’s two most populous islands. Ever since, Hindu cultural norms have infused indigenous mores, even after large-scale conversion to Islam in the sixteenth century. References to the epics are everywhere in Java—the language, the street signs, the political commentary. In Jakarta, many buses are painted with lurid advertisements for an energy drink called Kuku Bima, which promises Bhima-like endurance. An enormous statue of Krishna leading Arjun into battle dominates the roundabout in front of the Monas, the country’s main nationalist monument. There is a nationwide charitable foundation for twins named the Nakula and Sadewa Society. And one of the country’s bestselling novels, Amba, uses the story of Bhishma and Shikhandi (a later incarnation of Amba) to talk about Indonesia’s purges of communists in the mid 1960s. Wayang kulit, a form of shadowpuppet theatre that features tales from the Mahabharata and the Ramayana, can draw tens of thousands to performances in rural Java. Indonesians feel a real sense of ownership over the epics. In the mid nineteenth century, Ronggowarsito, a poet from a royal court in central Java, wrote an apocryphal history

that traced the lineage of the Javanese kings back to the Pandavas. Eventually, many Indonesians came to believe that the Mahabharta was set in Java rather than India. But India still has special appeal. Da Cunha said that after ANTV aired the Star Plus Mahabharat, a rival channel began to broadcast an all-Indonesian version of the epic, Ksatria Pandawa Lima whose title translates to the “Five Pandava Knights.” The show flopped. The reason, da Cunha claimed, was that a local “copy” could not compare to the “Indian original.” Da Cunha added that stories from the Hindu epics are not really associated with religion by Indonesian audiences. Instead, they are understood as morality tales that happen to be embedded in the local culture. “Even Shaheer is a Muslim,” he pointed out, “so there is nothing religious here.” I heard much the same thing when, last year, I met Ki Purbo Asmoro, one of Indonesia’s most celebrated wayang kulit masters, or dalang. Like most dalang, and like most wayang kulit audiences, Purbo Asmoro is Muslim. “These stories are allegorical,” he told me. “None of us take them as the literal truth.” He also said the Hindu epics promote values—for instance, the loyalty, courage and integrity of characters such as Ghatotkach and Bhim—that are affirmed by Islam. But those parallels aren’t essential; for many Indonesians, the Mahabharat is pure entertainment, akin to shows such as the hit HBO fantasy series Game of Thrones except with greater cultural resonance. Backstage on the Panah set, I also met Mahabharata actors Vin Rana and Lavanya Bharadwaj, who played, respectively, the twins Nakula and Sahadeva. Following the Jakarta stage show in October, in which they both took part, ANTV took the cast to Bali, the only island in Indonesia that remains predominantly Hindu today. They were met in person, the actors told me, by the Raja of Ubud, a Balinese town. Bharadwaj, a youngster from Meerut, recalled

a Balinese fan ferreting away in her handbag, as though it were a treasure, an apple that he had half eaten. Rana, formerly a heavy-machinery parts importer from Pitampura in Delhi, spoke of a woman fainting when she saw him in the flesh. “They respect us so much over here,” Rana said solemnly. “Respect or desire?” I asked. He giggled nervously. Acquiring sex-symbol status by playing demigods has put the television Pandavas on awkward terrain. Meanwhile, “Arjuna” was gearing up for the stage. Sheikh listened intently, through an interpreter, to a headscarved young woman running him through the evening. Dressed casually, in sports clothes stretched tight across his muscular torso, he swatted with impressive accuracy at mosquitoes buzzing around the room. With his shoulder-length hair and well-defined six-pack, it was easy to see why the Jammu-born actor is the most popular member of the Mahabharat cast in Indonesia. Sheikh boasts 262,000 Twitter followers, the vast majority of whom, he said, are Indonesian. On the first day the dubbed Mahabharat was broadcast in the Twitter-mad country, he said, his following jumped by 30,000. Sheikh explained that when he was first approached to play the role of Arjuna, he had been reluctant, in part because his Hindi was poor. Once he accepted, he spent months in preparation, taking lessons in Hindi diction, learning to ride horses and handle weapons. He feels the role has changed him. Studying the Bhagwad Gita, he said, has been crucial in helping him make difficult choices. But it was unlikely to help with the toughest choice he faced that evening: which young woman to eliminate from the show. In the broadcast, Sheikh was confronted by 14 contestants, or dewis, resplendent in anarkalistyle kurtas. Over almost two and a half hours of high drama occasionally punctuated by dancing, he whittled the group down to five candidates for elimination. The girl he eventually

THE LEDE

Pallavi Iyer TELEVISION/ INDONESIA

LOVE OF GOD

THE CARAVAN| December 2013| 29

Indonesia falls for an Indian television remake of the Mahabharata

28| December 2013| THE CARAVAN

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

The Process

case the hero happens to be someone who speaks no Indonesian, and had only been in the country for about a month when the show started: the Indian actor Shaheer Sheikh, who played Arjuna in the 2013 television series Mahabharat, an extravagant adaptation of the mythological epic by Star Plus. Every Saturday, the women line up on a stage, dubbed the “bharata yudha” zone, and Sheikh sends one of them home. The winner, who will be announced at the end of December, will travel with Sheikh to India. The Indonesian channel ANTV bought the rights to the Mahabharat from Star Plus, and started airing a dubbed version of the show this March. I first came across this Bahasa Indonesia Mahabharat in June, when I began to tune into ANTV every evening for its exclusive regional broadcasts of the FIFA World Cup. Mahabharat was aired just prior to each day’s opening matches. As I waited for well-built men to take to the football field, I ended up watching well-built men in faux-gold jewellery fighting with magical weapons instead. ANTV soon discovered that the ratings for the mythological series were higher than those for the football. At its peak, the show reached 7.6 percent of Indonesia’s television viewership; the World Cup final reached only 6.2 percent. I met with Kelly da Cunha, ANTV’s general manager of production, in a boxy backstage room a few hours before filming for the Panah elimination round was to begin. Middle-aged and portly, da Cunha chuckled compulsively while recounting the numbers. “With these kinds of ratings, we decided to go further,” he explained. Early this October, ANTV brought seven Mahabharat cast members over from India to perform in a live, threehour stage show in Jakarta. The programme consisted of interviews

Actors on the lavish sets of the famous show/ Source: xyz Archive

and assorted histrionics—such as the five Pandavas and their archenemies, Duryodhana and Karna, gyrating to music that, though loud, could not drown out the ululations of the hundreds-strong, largely female audience. The popularity of a show based on the Mahabharata in Muslimmajority Indonesia might seem surprising, but da Cunha explained that Hindu epics are part of the country’s culture. For centuries, many parts of the Indonesian archipelago were majority-Hindu. By the seventh century CE, Hindu– Buddhist kingdoms dominated both Java and Sumatra—Indonesia’s two most populous islands. Ever since, Hindu cultural norms have infused indigenous mores, even after largescale conversion to Islam in the sixteenth century. References to the epics are everywhere in Java—the language, the street signs, the political commentary. In Jakarta, many buses are painted with lurid advertisements for an energy drink called Kuku Bima, which promises Bhima-like endurance. An enormous statue of Krishna leading Arjun into battle dominates the roundabout in front of the Monas, the country’s

main nationalist monument. There is a nationwide charitable foundation for twins named the Nakula and Sadewa Society. And one of the country’s bestselling novels, Amba, uses the story of Bhishma and Shikhandi (a later incarnation of Amba) to talk about Indonesia’s purges of communists in the mid 1960s. Wayang kulit, a form of shadowpuppet theatre that features tales from the Mahabharata and the Ramayana, can draw tens of thousands to performances in rural Java. Indonesians feel a real sense of ownership over the epics. In the mid nineteenth century, Ronggowarsito, a poet from a royal court in central Java, wrote an apocryphal history that traced the lineage of the Javanese kings back to the Pandavas. Eventually, many Indonesians came to believe that the Mahabharta was set in Java rather than India. But India still has special appeal. Da Cunha said that after ANTV aired the Star Plus Mahabharat, a rival channel began to broadcast an all-Indonesian version of the epic, Ksatria Pandawa Lima whose title translates to the “Five Pandava Knights.” The show flopped. The reason, da Cunha claimed, was that a local “copy” could not compare to the “Indian original.”

Da Cunha added that stories from the Hindu epics are not really associated with religion by Indonesian audiences. Instead, they are understood as morality tales that happen to be embedded in the local culture. “Even Shaheer is a Muslim,” he pointed out, “so there is nothing religious here.” I heard much the same thing when, last year, I met Ki Purbo Asmoro, one of Indonesia’s most celebrated wayang kulit masters, or dalang. Like most dalang, and like most wayang kulit audiences, Purbo Asmoro is Muslim. “These stories are allegorical,” he told me. “None of us take them as the literal truth.” He also said the Hindu epics promote values—for instance, the loyalty, courage and integrity of characters such as Ghatotkach and Bhim—that are affirmed by Islam. But those parallels aren’t essential; for many Indonesians, the Mahabharat is pure entertainment, akin to shows such as the hit HBO fantasy series Game of Thrones except with greater cultural resonance. Backstage on the Panah set, I also met Mahabharata actors Vin Rana and Lavanya Bharadwaj, who played, respectively, the twins Nakula and Sahadeva. Following the Jakarta stage show in October, in which they both took part, ANTV took the cast to Bali, the only island in Indonesia that remains predominantly Hindu today. They were met in person, the actors told me, by the Raja of Ubud, a Balinese town. Bharadwaj, a youngster from Meerut, recalled a Balinese fan ferreting away in her handbag, as though it were a treasure, an apple that he had half eaten. Rana, formerly a heavymachinery parts importer from Pitampura in Delhi, spoke of a woman fainting when she saw him in the flesh. “They respect us so much over here,” Rana said solemnly. “Respect or desire?” I asked. He giggled nervously. Acquiring sex-symbol status by playing demigods has put

THE CARAVAN| December 2013| 29

Shortlisted Design #3

133

This design introduces a sub-content panel in the opening spread of the section. This panel would give the reader an over view of the upcoming pieces in the section. Additionally, this design was one of the earliest to incorporate the use of icons as slugs.

Shortlisted Design #4 This direction was designed with an intention of maximizing the number of entry points for a casual reader. It also uses two images in the opening spread to establish a sort of a visual narrative. The pull-quotes in the exploration were refined such that do not over-lap the body text. Caravan being a mature magazine did not want to have gimmicks in its visual language and hence such ideas were shot down.

Pupul Bisht 路 UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

Shortlisted Design #5.1

134

In this design, I tried to utilize the verticals on the page. The are around the spine of a magazine is usually only used to add white pace to the page. In this design we decided to introduce the section opener at the spine. Also to add the visual excitement on the page, the byline and slug have been vertically aligned with the section head.

Shortlisted Design #5.2 Seeing the potential in this direction we decided to try another spread in the same style for one of the subsequent page of the section. This being a â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Lettersâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; piece, the international nature of the content has been highlighted with a globe icon.

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

The Process

135

Shortlisted Design #6.1 Another approach that allowed for multiple entry points on the spread, this was one of the most popular designs of this round. With icons coming on header bar as well as in place of a drop cap, this design had provisions for multiple slugging on one story. With this we also proposed the use of accent colour based on the content. For instance, this story being set in Morocco utilizes the colours of the Moroccan flag.

Shortlisted Design #6.2 With this direction as well, we tried doing multiple pieces to test the flexibility in structure. This layout allowed for dynamic placement of images. In order to compensate for the quality of images, we proposed that all images in The Lede section be treated with coloured filters. This proposal obviously was not very practical since it conflicted with the core personality of the publication.

Pupul Bisht 路 UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

49 Hand-drawn Thumb The figure on the left shows the rough thumbnail sketches of the layouts from my sketch books. I used this technique to quickly block the spreads with all the main elements before attempting the design digitally.

136

The review meeting with the editors at the end of the second round of explorations was a turning point in the project. It was the first time since the beginning of the project, that the editors began articulating their vision for the redesign. At this point for me, it became very important to play the role of a good listener. In the academic situation, often times, once the project brief is finalized, the focus of the designer (student) turns to realizing that brief. In the real world scenario, briefs are dynamic and both the client and the designer grow with the brief and vice versa. To understand the evolution of a brief as the project progresses is crucial as at every stage the problem starts giving the designer cues to guide the design. In this case, based on the

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

The Process

feedback that I got on the explorations, I was able to define the constraints within which the design needed to operate. One of the biggest constraints for the design of The Lede section was that in most issues, the section opener carries an ad on the verso (right) page. Most of these ads are sponsor ads and the internal design team of the magazine does not have any say in the visual quality of these. Due to this, all the upcoming explorations have been done by placing a dummy ad on the verso page. Given the fact that the opening page of the section would most often face an ad, we had to design accordingly. The design needed to uncluttered to compensate for the visual clutter brought by the ad. Yet at the same time, it

needed to be striking enough to overpower the busy visuals on the facing page. The following round of explorations has been designed keeping this in mind. Some of the other doâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s and donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ts that got established in previous rounds were also accounted for. First and foremost, added effort was made to stay away from any visual treatment of elements that may come across as a gimmick. The functionality of elements was given precedence over vanity. A good reading being the at core of the publication, we decided to avoid overlap of text on text and text on images as in may hamper legibility. Secondly, most of these explorations began factoring in the actual word count of articles. The attempt was to bring in a reasonable

amount of breathing space in to the pages without compromising drastically on the word count. The next level of value addition was done by introducing more entry points into the layout. Use of colour as a tool to enhance the contrast and visual activity on the page was especially stressed upon by the editor. In the upcoming pages, I have discussed the main approaches from this round. In each set, while the bigger image illustrates the shortlisted design, the smaller thumbnails show the other designs with the same direction.

THE LEDE LOVE OF GOD

THE LEDE SILENT STRENGTH

“

craze was for Korean space for a pop and culture but at ANTV we want to replace that with Indian pop. But for this layout, maybe need a longer one. So that it proportionately looks better.

”

Story by Pallavi Aiyer

Indonesia falls for an Indian television remake of the Mahabharata. On a Saturday afternoon in late September, gaggles of hijab-clad women, many with young children in tow, swarmed outside the closed gates of an auditorium in Taman Mini, a popular recreational park in east Jakarta. A brawny, black-maned figure wielding a bow and arrow pouted suggestively from a phalanx of promotional banners that lined the street, with the title Panah Asmara Arjuna— Arjuna’s Arrow of Love- printed above.

“A year ago the

THE LEDE LOVE OF GOD

Story by Pallavi Aiyer

n a Saturday afternoon in late September, gaggles of hijab-clad women, many with young children in tow, swarmed outside the closed gates of an auditorium in Taman Mini, a popular recreational park in east Jakarta. A brawny, black-maned figure wielding a bow and arrow pouted suggestively from a phalanx of promotional banners that lined the street, with the title Panah Asmara Arjuna— Arjuna’s Arrow of Love—printed above. Inside, a stage featuring two giant gilt thrones was being readied. Strobe lights criss-crossed the auditorium, and an overwrought score thundered from the sound system. This was the set for the live broadcast of Panah Asmara Arjuna’s second weekly elimination round. Advertised as a “maha reality show,” the Indonesian series follows a familiar trope: 15 young women start out sharing a house, and compete in daily challenges as they vie for the attention of a desirable hero. But in this case the hero happens to be someone who speaks no Indonesian, and had only been in the country for about a month when the show started: the Indian actor Shaheer Sheikh, who played Arjuna in the 2013 television series Mahabharat, an extravagant adaptation of the mythological epic by Star Plus. Every Saturday, the women line up on a stage, dubbed the “bharata yudha” zone, and Sheikh sends one of them home. The winner, who will be announced at the end of December, will travel with Sheikh to India. The Indonesian channel ANTV bought the rights to the Mahabharat from Star Plus, and started airing a dubbed version of the show this March. I first came across this Bahasa Indonesia Mahabharat in June, when I began to tune into ANTV every evening for its exclusive regional broadcasts of the FIFA World Cup. Mahabharat was aired just prior to each day’s opening matches. As I waited for well-built men to take to the football field, I ended up watching well-built men in faux-gold jewellery fighting with magical weapons instead. ANTV soon discovered that the ratings for the mythological series were higher than those for the football. At its peak, the show reached 7.6 percent of Indonesia’s television viewership; the World Cup final reached only 6.2 percent. I met with Kelly da Cunha, ANTV’s general manager of production, in a boxy backstage room a few hours before filming for the Panah elimination round was to begin. Middle-aged and portly, da Cunha chuckled compulsively while recounting the numbers. “With these kinds of ratings, we decided to go further,” he explained. Early this October, ANTV brought seven Mahabharat cast members over from India to

Image description goes here. Image description goes here.

nside, a stage featuring two giant gilt thrones was being readied. Strobe lights criss-crossed the auditorium, and an overwrought score thundered from the sound system. This was the set for the live broadcast of Panah Asmara Arjuna’s second weekly elimination round. Advertised as a “maha reality show,” the Indonesian series follows a familiar trope: 15 young women start out sharing a house, and compete in daily challenges as they vie for the attention of a desirable hero. But in this case the hero happens to be someone who speaks no Indonesian, and had only been in the country for about a month when the show started: the Indian actor Shaheer Sheikh, who played Arjuna in the 2013 television series Mahabharat, an extravagant adaptation of the mythological epic by Star Plus. Every Saturday, the women line up on a stage, dubbed the “bharata yudha” zone, and Sheikh sends one of them home. The winner, who will be announced at the end of December, will travel with Sheikh to India. The Indonesian channel ANTV bought the rights to the Mahabharat from Star Plus, and started airing a dubbed version of the show this March. I first came across this Bahasa Indonesia Mahabharat in June, when I began to tune into ANTV every evening for its exclusive regional broadcasts of the FIFA World Cup. Mahabharat was aired just prior to each day’s opening matches. As I waited for well-built men to take to the football field, I ended up watching well-built men in faux-gold jewellery fighting with magical weapons instead. ANTV soon discovered that the ratings for the mythological series were higher than those for the football. At its peak, the show reached 7.6 percent of Indonesia’s television viewership; the World Cup final reached only 6.2

percent. I met with Kelly da Cunha, ANTV’s general manager of production, in a boxy backstage room a few hours before filming for the Panah elimination round was to begin. Middle-aged and portly, da Cunha chuckled compulsively while recounting the numbers. “With these kinds of ratings, we decided to go further,” he explained. Early this October, ANTV brought seven Mahabharat cast members over from India to perform in a live, three-hour stage show in Jakarta. The programme consisted of interviews and assorted histrionics— such as the five Pandavas and their archenemies, Duryodhana and Karna, gyrating to music that, though loud, could not drown out the ululations of the hundreds-strong, largely female audience. The popularity of a show based on the Mahabharata in Muslim-majority Indonesia might seem surprising, but da Cunha explained that Hindu epics are part of the country’s culture. For centuries, many parts of the Indonesian archipelago were majority-Hindu. By the seventh century CE, Hindu–Buddhist kingdoms dominated both Java and Sumatra—Indonesia’s two most populous islands. Ever since, Hindu cultural norms have infused indigenous mores, even after largescale conversion to Islam in the sixteenth century. References to the epics are everywhere in Java—the language, the street signs, the political commentary. In Jakarta, many buses are painted with lurid advertisements for an energy drink called Kuku Bima, which promises Bhima-like endurance. An enormous statue of Krishna leading Arjun into battle dominates the roundabout in front of the Monas, the country’s main nationalist monument. There is a nationwide charitable foundation for twins named the Nakula and

Image description goes here. Image description goes here.

“A year ago the craze was for Korean space for a pop and culture but at ANTV we want to replace that with Indian pop.”

137 Indonesia falls for an Indian television remake of the Mahabharata

n a Saturday afternoon in late September, gaggles of hijabclad women, many with young children in tow, swarmed outside the closed gates of an auditorium in Taman Mini, a popular recreational park in east Jakarta. A brawny, blackmaned figure wielding a bow and arrow pouted suggestively from a phalanx of promotional banners that lined the street, with the title Panah Asmara Arjuna—Arjuna’s Arrow of Love— printed above. Inside, a stage featuring two giant gilt thrones was being readied. Strobe lights criss-crossed the auditorium, and an overwrought score thundered from the sound system. This was the set for the live broadcast of Panah Asmara Arjuna’s second weekly elimination round. Advertised as a “maha reality show,” the Indonesian series follows a familiar trope: 15 young women start out sharing a house, and compete in daily challenges as they vie for the attention of a desirable hero. But in this case the hero happens to be someone who speaks no Indonesian, and had only been in the country for about a month when the show started: the Indian actor Shaheer Sheikh, who played Arjuna in the 2013 television series Mahabharat, an extravagant adaptation of the mythological epic by Star Plus. Every Saturday, the women line up on a stage, dubbed the “bharata yudha” zone, and Sheikh sends one of them home. The winner, who will be announced at the end of December, will travel with Sheikh to India. The Indonesian channel ANTV bought the rights to the Mahabharat from Star Plus, and started airing a dubbed version of the show this March. I first came across this Bahasa Indonesia Mahabharat in June, when I began to tune into ANTV every evening for its exclusive regional broadcasts of the FIFA World Cup. Mahabharat was

aired just prior to each day’s opening matches. As I waited for well-built men to take to the football field, I ended up watching well-built men in faux-gold jewellery fighting with magical weapons instead. ANTV soon discovered that the ratings for the mythological series were higher than those for the football. At its peak, the show reached 7.6 percent of Indonesia’s television viewership; the World Cup final reached only 6.2 percent. I met with Kelly da Cunha, ANTV’s general manager of production, in a boxy backstage room a few hours before filming for the Panah elimination round was to begin. Middle-aged and portly, da Cunha chuckled compulsively while recounting the numbers. “With these kinds of ratings, we decided to go further,” he explained. Early this October, ANTV brought seven Mahabharat cast members over from India to perform in a live, three-hour stage show in Jakarta. The programme consisted of interviews and assorted histrionics—such as the five Pandavas and their archenemies, Duryodhana and Karna, gyrating to music that, though loud, could not drown out the ululations of the hundreds-strong, largely female audience. The popularity of a show based on the Mahabharata in Muslim-majority Indonesia might seem surprising, but da Cunha explained that Hindu epics are part of the country’s culture. For centuries, many parts of the Indonesian archipelago were majority-Hindu. By the seventh century CE, Hindu– Buddhist kingdoms dominated both Java and Sumatra—Indonesia’s two most populous islands. Ever since, Hindu cultural norms have infused indigenous mores, even after large-scale conversion to Islam in the sixteenth century. References to the epics are everywhere in Java—the language, the street signs,

THE LEDE LOVE OF GOD Indonesia falls for an Indian television remake of the Mahabharata. On a Saturday afternoon in late September, gaggles of hijab-clad women, many with young children in tow, swarmed outside the closed gates of an auditorium in Taman Mini, a popular recreational park in east Jakarta. A brawny, black-maned figure wielding a bow and arrow pouted suggestively from a phalanx of promotional banners that lined the street, with the title Panah Asmara Arjuna— Arjuna’s Arrow of Love- printed above.

“A year ago the craze was for Korean space for a pop and culture but at ANTV we want to replace that with Indian pop. A little longer.”

version of the show this March. I first came across this Bahasa Indonesia Mahabharat in June, when I began to tune into ANTV every evening for its exclusive regional broadcasts of the FIFA World Cup. Mahabharat was aired just prior to each day’s opening matches. As I waited for well-built men to take to the football field, I ended up watching well-built men in faux-gold jewellery fighting with magical weapons instead. ANTV soon discovered that the ratings for the mythological series were higher than those for the football. At its peak, the show reached 7.6 percent of Indonesia’s television viewership; the World Cup final reached only 6.2 percent. I met with Kelly da Cunha, ANTV’s general manager of production, in a boxy backstage room a few hours before filming for the Panah elimination round was to begin. Middle-aged and portly, da Cunha chuckled compulsively while recounting the numbers. “With these kinds of ratings, we decided to go further,” he explained. Early this October, ANTV brought seven Mahabharat cast members over from India to perform in a live, three-hour stage show in Jakarta. The programme consisted of interviews and assorted

The Lede

Love of God INDONESIA FALLS FOR AN INDIAN TELEVISION REMAKE OF THE MAHABHARATA Story by Pallavi Aiyer

On a Saturday afternoon in late September, gaggles of hijabclad women, many with young children in tow, swarmed outside the closed gates of an auditorium in Taman Mini, a popular recreational park in east Jakarta. A brawny, black-maned figure wielding a bow and arrow pouted suggestively from a phalanx of promotional banners that lined the street, with the title Panah Asmara Arjuna—Arjuna’s Arrow of Love— printed above. Inside, a stage featuring two giant gilt thrones was being readied. Strobe lights criss-crossed the auditorium, and an overwrought score thundered from the sound system. This was the set for the live broadcast of Panah

Asmara Arjuna’s second weekly elimination round. Advertised as a “maha reality show,” the Indonesian series follows a familiar trope: 15 young women start out sharing a house, and compete in daily challenges as they vie for the attention of a desirable hero. But in this case the hero happens to be someone who speaks no Indonesian, and had only been in the country for about a month when the show started: the Indian actor Shaheer Sheikh, who played Arjuna in the 2013 television series Mahabharat, an extravagant adaptation of the mythological epic by Star Plus. Every Saturday, the women line up on a stage, dubbed the “bharata yudha” zone, and Sheikh sends

Round 3, Approach #1 “A year ago the craze was for Korean space for a pop and culture but at ANTV we want to replace that with Indian pop.”

Keywords- Playful, Strong use of colour The explorations in this group, extensively use colour to highlight entry points on the page. The contrast by virtue of typographic colour has also been used to create an unambiguous hierarchy and navigate the eye of the reader on the page. As seen in the shortlisted design, the bright yellow adds life to the page. The brightness of colour and loudness in type has been balanced by the liberal use of negative space around the prominent elements.

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

138

THE LEDE

01 Image description goes here. Image description goes here.

LOVE OF GOD Indonesia falls for an Indian television remake of the Mahabharata By Pallavi Aiyer On a Saturday afternoon in late September, gaggles of hijab-clad women, many with young children in tow, swarmed outside the closed gates of an auditorium in Taman Mini, a popular recreational park in east Jakarta. A brawny, black-maned figure wielding a bow and arrow pouted suggestively from a phalanx of promotional banners that lined the street, with the title Panah Asmara Arjuna—Arjuna’s Arrow of Love—printed above. Inside, a stage featuring two giant gilt thrones was being readied. Strobe lights criss-crossed the auditorium, and an overwrought score thundered from the sound system. This was the set for the live broadcast of Panah Asmara Arjuna’s second weekly elimination round. Advertised as a “maha reality show,” the Indonesian series follows a familiar trope: 15 young women start out sharing a house, and compete in daily challenges as they vie for the attention of a desirable hero. But in this case the hero happens to be someone who speaks no Indonesian, and had only been in the country for about a month when the show started: the Indian actor Shaheer Sheikh, who played Arjuna in the 2013 television series Mahabharat, an extravagant adaptation of the mythological epic by Star Plus. Every Saturday, the women line up on a stage, dubbed the “bharata yudha” zone, and Sheikh sends one of them home. The winner, who will be announced at the end of December, will travel with Sheikh to India.

The Lede

The Indonesian channel ANTV bought the rights to the Mahabharat from Star Plus, and started airing a dubbed version of the show this March. I first came across this Bahasa Indonesia Mahabharat in June, when I began to tune into ANTV every evening for its exclusive regional broadcasts of the FIFA World Cup. Mahabharat was aired just prior to each day’s opening matches. As I waited for well-built men to take to the football field, I ended up watching well-built men in faux-gold jewellery fighting with magical weapons instead. ANTV soon discovered that the ratings for the mythological series were higher than those for the football. At its peak, the show reached 7.6 percent of Indonesia’s television viewership; the World Cup final reached only 6.2 percent. I met with Kelly da Cunha, ANTV’s general manager of production, in a boxy backstage room a few hours before filming for the Panah elimination round was to begin. Middle-aged and portly, da Cunha chuckled compulsively while recounting the numbers. “With these kinds of ratings, we decided to go further,” he explained. Early this October, ANTV brought seven Mahabharat cast members over from India to perform in a live, three-hour stage show in Jakarta. The programme consisted of interviews and assorted histrionics— such as the five Pandavas and their archenemies, Duryodhana and Karna, gyrating to music that, though loud, could not drown out the ululations of the hundreds-strong, largely female audience.

LOVE OF GOD On a Saturday afternoon in late September, gaggles of hijab-clad women, many with young children in tow, swarmed outside the closed gates of an auditorium in Taman Mini, a popular recreational park in east Jakarta. A brawny, black-maned figure wielding a bow and arrow pouted suggestively from a phalanx of promotional banners that lined the street, with the title Panah Asmara Arjuna—Arjuna’s Arrow of Love—printed above. Inside, a stage featuring two giant gilt thrones was being readied. Strobe lights criss-crossed the auditorium, and an overwrought score thundered from the sound system. This was the set for the live broadcast of Panah Asmara

“A year ago the craze was for Korean space for a pop and culture but at ANTV we want to replace that with Indian pop.” Arjuna’s second weekly elimination round. Advertised as a “maha reality show,” the Indonesian series follows a familiar trope: 15 young women start out sharing a house, and compete in daily challenges as they vie for the attention of a desirable hero. But in this case the hero happens to be someone who speaks no Indonesian, and had only been in the country for about a month when the show started: the Indian actor Shaheer Sheikh, who played Arjuna in the 2013 television series Mahabharat, an extravagant adaptation of the mythological epic by Star Plus. Every Saturday, the women line up on a stage, dubbed the “bharata yudha” zone, and Sheikh sends one of them home. The winner, who will be announced at the end of December, will travel with Sheikh to India. The Indonesian channel ANTV bought the rights to the Mahabharat from Star Plus, and started airing a dubbed version of the show this March. I first came across this Bahasa Indonesia Mahabharat in June, when I

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

The Process

But India still has special appeal. Da Cunha said that after ANTV aired the Star Plus Mahabharat, a rival channel began to broadcast an all-Indonesian version of the epic, Ksatria Pandawa Lima whose title translates to the “Five Pandava Knights.” The show flopped. The reason, da Cunha claimed, was that a local “copy” could not compare to the “Indian original.” Da Cunha added that stories from the Hindu epics are not really associated with religion by Indonesian audiences. Instead, they are understood as morality tales that happen to be embedded in the local culture. “Even Shaheer is a Muslim,” he pointed out, “so there is nothing religious here.” A year ago the craze was for I heard much the same thing Korean pop and culture but at when, last year, I met Ki Purbo ANTV we want to replace that Asmoro, one of Indonesia’s most celebrated wayang kulit with Indian pop. masters, or dalang. Like most dalang, and like most wayang kulit audiences, Purbo Asmoro is MusReferences to the epics are everywhere lim. “These stories are allegorical,” he in Java—the language, the street signs, told me. “None of us take them as the the political commentary. In Jakarta, literal truth.” He also said the Hindu many buses are painted with lurid adepics promote values—for instance, the vertisements for an energy drink called loyalty, courage and integrity of characKuku Bima, which promises Bhima-like ters such as Ghatotkach and Bhim—that endurance. An enormous statue of are affirmed by Islam. But those paralKrishna leading Arjun into battle domlels aren’t essential; for many Indoneinates the roundabout in front of the sians, the Mahabharat is pure entertainMonas, the country’s main nationalist ment, akin to shows such as the hit HBO monument. There is a nationwide charfantasy series Game of Thrones except itable foundation for twins named the with greater cultural resonance. Nakula and Sadewa Society. And one of Backstage on the Panah set, I also met the country’s bestselling novels, Amba, Mahabharata actors Vin Rana and Lauses the story of Bhishma and Shikhanvanya Bharadwaj, who played, respecdi (a later incarnation of Amba) to talk tively, the twins Nakula and Sahadeva. about Indonesia’s purges of communists Following the Jakarta stage show in in the mid 1960s. October, in which they both took part, Wayang kulit, a form of shadow-puppet ANTV took the cast to Bali, the only istheatre that features tales from the Maland in Indonesia that remains predomhabharata and the Ramayana, can draw inantly Hindu today. They were met in tens of thousands to performances in person, the actors told me, by the Raja rural Java. Indonesians feel a real sense of Ubud, a Balinese town. Bharadwaj, a of ownership over the epics. In the mid youngster from Meerut, recalled a Balinineteenth century, Ronggowarsito, a nese fan ferreting away in her handbag, poet from a royal court in central Java, as though it were a treasure, an apple wrote an apocryphal history that traced that he had half eaten. Rana, formerly a the lineage of the Javanese kings back heavy-machinery parts importer from to the Pandavas. Eventually, many Pitampura in Delhi, spoke of a woman Indonesians came to believe that the fainting when she saw him in the flesh. Mahabharta was set in Java rather than “They respect us so much over here,” India. The popularity of a show based on the Mahabharata in Muslim-majority Indonesia might seem surprising, but da Cunha explained that Hindu epics are part of the country’s culture. For centuries, many parts of the Indonesian archipelago were majority-Hindu. By the seventh century CE, Hindu–Buddhist kingdoms dominated both Java and Sumatra—Indonesia’s two most populous islands. Ever since, Hindu cultural norms have infused indigenous mores, even after large-scale conversion to Islam in the sixteenth century.

Indonesia falls for an Indian television remake of the Mahabharata Story by Pallavi Aiyer

began to tune into ANTV every evening for its exclusive regional broadcasts of the FIFA World Cup. Mahabharat was aired just prior to each day’s opening matches. As I waited for well-built men to take to the football field, I ended up watching well-built men in faux-gold jewellery fighting with magical weapons instead. ANTV soon discovered that the ratings for the mythological series were higher than those for the football. At its peak, the show reached 7.6 percent of Indonesia’s television viewership; the World Cup final reached only 6.2 percent. I met with Kelly da Cunha, ANTV’s general manager of production, in a boxy backstage room a few hours before filming for the Panah elimination round was to begin. Middle-aged and portly, da Cunha chuckled compulsively while recounting the numbers. “With these kinds of ratings, we decided to go further,” he explained. Early this October, ANTV brought seven Mahabharat cast members over from India to perform in a live, three-hour stage show in Jakarta. The programme consisted of interviews and assorted histrionics—such as the five Pandavas and their archenemies, Duryodhana and Karna, gyrating to music that, though loud, could not drown out the ululations of the hundreds-strong, largely female audience. The popularity of a show based on the Mahabharata in Muslim-majority Indonesia might seem surprising, but da Cunha explained that Hindu epics are part of the country’s culture. For centuries, many parts of the Indonesian archipelago were majority-Hindu. By the seventh century CE, Hindu–Buddhist kingdoms dominated both Java and Sumatra—Indonesia’s two most populous islands. Ever since, Hindu cultural norms have infused indigenous mores, even after large-scale conversion to Islam in the sixteenth century. References to the epics are everywhere in Java—the language, the street signs, the

“

“These stories are allegorical,” he told me. “None of us take them as the literal truth.” political commentary. In Jakarta, many buses are painted with lurid advertisements for an energy drink called Kuku Bima, which promises Bhima-like endurance. An enormous statue of Krishna leading Arjun into battle dominates the roundabout in front of the Monas, the country’s main nationalist monument. There is a nationwide charitable foundation for twins named the Nakula and Sadewa Society. And one of the country’s bestselling novels, Amba, uses the story of Bhishma and Shikhandi (a later incarnation of Amba) to talk about Indonesia’s purges of communists in the mid 1960s. Wayang kulit, a form of shadowpuppet theatre that features tales from the Mahabharata and the Ramayana, can draw tens of thousands to performances in rural Java. Indonesians feel a real sense of ownership over the epics. In the mid nineteenth century, Ronggowarsito, a poet from a royal court in central Java, wrote an apocryphal history that traced the lineage of the Javanese kings back to the Pandavas. Eventually, many Indonesians came to believe that the Mahabharta was set in Java rather than India. But India still has special appeal. Da Cunha said that after ANTV aired the Star Plus Mahabharat, a rival channel began to broadcast an all-Indonesian version of the epic, Ksatria Pandawa Lima whose title translates to the “Five Pandava Knights.” The show flopped. The reason, da Cunha claimed, was that a local “copy” could not compare to the “Indian original.” Da Cunha added that stories from the Hindu epics are not really associated with religion by Indonesian audiences. Instead, they are understood as morality tales that happen to be embedded in the local culture. “Even Shaheer is a Muslim,” he pointed out, “so there is nothing religious here.”

He feels the role has changed him. Studying the Bhagwad Gita, he said, has been crucial in helping him make difficult choices. the loyalty, courage and integrity of characters such as Ghatotkach and Bhim—that are affirmed by Islam. But those parallels aren’t essential; for many Indonesians, the Mahabharat is pure entertainment, akin to shows such as the hit HBO fantasy series Game of Thrones except with greater cultural resonance. Backstage on the Panah set, I also met Mahabharata actors Vin Rana and Lavanya Bharadwaj, who played, respectively, the twins Nakula and Sahadeva. Following the Jakarta stage show in October, in which they both took part, ANTV took the cast to Bali, the only island in Indonesia that remains predominantly Hindu today. They were met in person, the actors told me, by the Raja of Ubud, a Balinese town. Bharadwaj, a youngster from Meerut, recalled a Balinese fan ferreting away in her handbag, as though it were a treasure, an apple that he had half eaten. Rana, formerly a heavy-machinery parts importer from Pitampura in Delhi, spoke of a woman fainting when she saw him in the flesh. “They respect us so much over here,” Rana said solemnly. “Respect or desire?” I asked. He giggled nervously. Acquiring sex-symbol status by playing demigods has put the television Pandavas on awkward terrain. Meanwhile, “Arjuna” was gearing up for the stage. Sheikh listened intently, through an interpreter, to a headscarved young woman running him

Rana said solemnly. “Respect or desire?” I asked. He giggled nervously. Acquiring sex-symbol status by playing demigods has put the television Pandavas on awkward terrain. Meanwhile, “Arjuna” was gearing up for the stage. Sheikh listened intently, through an interpreter, to a headscarved young woman running him through the evening. Dressed casually, in sports clothes stretched tight across his muscular torso, he swatted with impressive accuracy at mosquitoes buzzing around the room. With his shoulder-length hair and well-defined six-pack, it was easy to see why the Jammu-born actor is the most popular member of the Mahabharat cast in Indonesia. Sheikh boasts 262,000 Twitter followers, the vast majority of whom, he said, are Indonesian. On the first day the dubbed Mahabharat was broadcast in the Twitter-mad country, he said, his following jumped by 30,000. Sheikh explained that when he was first approached to play the role of Arjuna, he had been reluctant, in part because his Hindi was poor. Once he accepted, he spent months in preparation, taking lessons in Hindi diction, learning to ride horses and handle weapons. He feels the role has changed him. Studying the Bhagwad Gita, he said, has been crucial in helping him make difficult choices. But it was unlikely to help with the toughest choice he faced that evening: which young woman to eliminate from the show. In the broadcast, Sheikh was confronted by 14 contestants, or dewis, resplendent in anarkali-style kurtas. Over almost two and a half hours of high drama occasionally punctuated by dancing, he whittled the group down to five candidates for elimination. The girl he eventually sent away managed a wan smile when Sheikh pressed a locket he was wearing upon her as a keepsake. The episode concluded with “Arjuna” and the dewis dancing to the Bollywood hit ‘London thumakda.’ ANTV hopes to cash in even further on the Mahabharat craze. It intends to broadcast another live stage show from Jakarta this month, with an expanded cast including the Mahabharat characters of Bhishma, Draupadi, Shakuni and

through the evening. Dressed casually, in sports clothes stretched tight across his muscular torso, he swatted with impressive accuracy at mosquitoes buzzing around the room. With his shoulder-length hair and well-defined six-pack, it was easy to see why the Jammu-born actor is the most popular member of the Mahabharat cast in Indonesia. Sheikh boasts 262,000 Twitter followers, the vast majority of whom, he said, are Indonesian. On the first day the dubbed Mahabharat was broadcast in the Twitter-mad country, he said, his following jumped by 30,000. Sheikh explained that when he was first approached to play the role of Arjuna, he had been reluctant, in part because his Hindi was poor. Once he accepted, he spent months in preparation, taking lessons in Hindi diction, learning to ride horses and handle weapons. He feels the role has changed him. Studying the Bhagwad Gita, he said, has been crucial in helping him make difficult choices. But it was unlikely to help with the toughest choice he faced that evening: which young woman to eliminate from the show. In the broadcast, Sheikh was confronted by 14 contestants, or dewis, resplendent in anarkali-style kurtas. Over almost two and a half hours of high drama occasionally punctuated by dancing, he whittled the group down to five candidates for elimination. The girl he eventually sent away managed a wan smile when Sheikh pressed a locket he was wearing upon her as a keepsake.

139 THE LEDE

The Lede

Love of God Story by Pallavi Aiyer

Careful Wording Teaching the Madia in their own tongue. The tagline could be longer.

Indonesia falls for an Indian television remake of the Mahabharata

The Caravan/ April 2015

As he struggled to read the first lesson in his Marathi textbook, Swapnil Keye Wadde tugged repeatedly at a frayed handle of the thick nylon carrying bag he uses for school. Rucksacks are an extravagance for children here in Midadapalli, a small village deep within a swathe of east Maharashtra’s Gadchiroli district with a strong Naxal presence. When I visited, on a mid-December morning, Wadde, seated in a multi-grade classroom at the village’s government middle school, pored laboriously over the words, failing to recognise even individual letters. He was not exceptional in this. Another student, Sapna Wachami, sat silent when I asked her to read out the word “metre,” written in Marathi on a flashcard. A large chart of the Devanagiri alphabet on one wall had clearly not helped the children’s reading skills much.

Story by Debarshi Dasgupta

I met with Kelly da Cunha, ANTV’s general manager of production, in a boxy backstage room a few hours before filming for the Panah elimination round was to begin. Middle-aged and portly, da Cunha chuckled compulsively while recounting the numbers. “With these kinds of ratings, we decided to go further,” he explained. Early this October, ANTV brought seven Mahabharat cast members over from India to perform in a live, three-hour stage show in Jakarta. The programme consisted of interviews and assorted histrionics—such as the five Pandavas and their archenemies, Duryodhana and Karna, gyrating to music that, though loud, could not drown out the ululations of the hundreds-strong, largely female audience. The popularity of a show based on the Mahabharata in Muslim-majority Indonesia might seem surprising, but da Cunha explained that Hindu epics are part of the country’s culture. For centuries, many parts of the Indonesian archipelago were majority-Hindu. By the seventh century CE, Hindu–Buddhist kingdoms dominated both Java and Sumatra—Indonesia’s two most populous islands. Ever since, Hindu cultural norms have infused indigenous mores, even after large-scale conversion to Islam in the sixteenth century. References to the epics are everywhere in Java—the language, the street signs, the political commentary. In Jakarta, many buses are painted with lurid advertisements for an energy drink called Kuku Bima, which promises Bhima-like endurance. An enormous statue of Krishna leading Arjun into battle dominates the roundabout in front of the Monas, the country’s main nationalist monument. There is a nationwide charitable foundation for twins named the Nakula and Sadewa Society. And one of the country’s bestselling novels, Amba, uses the story of Bhishma and Shikhandi (a later incarnation of Amba) to talk about Indonesia’s purges of communists in the mid 1960s. Wayang kulit, a form of shadow-puppet theatre that features tales from the Mahabharata and the Ramayana, can draw tens of thousands to performances in rural Java. Indonesians feel a real sense of ownership over the epics. In the mid nineteenth century, Ronggowarsito, a poet from a royal court in central

Wadde and Wachami are members of the Madia Gond tribe—a small community within the larger Gond tribal family, which is spread across central India and numbers about 16 lakh people in Maharashtra alone. The Madia inhabit a border region of east Maharashtra that has much more in common with the adjacent Abujhmad area of Chhattisgarh, which also has a large population of Gond and other tribals, than with Nagpur, Maharashtra’s second capital, over 300 kilometres away. The community speaks Madia Gondi, a Dravidian language, and very few of them understand Maharasthra’s official, Indo-Aryan Marathi; yet the state remains adamant in teaching Madia children in this unfamiliar language. This has been catastrophic for these children’s learning, both immediately and in

the long term. Bhamragarh block, which takes in Midadapalli and where many Madia are based, had an official dropout rate of 18.4 percent in the 2011–2012 educational year, the third highest of all the 373 blocks in Maharashtra. P S Biswas, the school principal at Midadapalli, said this was, in large part, down to poor attendance. “Parents simply do not send their children to school,” he said. “They would rather have them as farm hands.” The language barrier plays a role in low attendance too, he said, since it makes government schools unfriendly places for Madia children. These children’s fate is emblematic of the problems facing linguistic minorities throughout India’s education system. Despite official recommendations in the 2005 National Curriculum Framework that textbooks incorporate

more of local cultures and languages, India’s tribal children, but for rare exceptions, continue to be taught either in Hindi or one of the country’s 21 other official languages. In Chhattisgarh, where children in government schools are mostly taught in Hindi, only 35 percent of children in grades 3, 4 and 5 in the tribal-dominated Bastar district can read first-grade texts—this according to the 2014 Annual Status of Education Report by the NGO Pratham. The same report showed that only about half of children in the same grades in Gadchiroli district can do the same. On the same day I visited the school at Midadapalli, I arrived in the village of Hemalkasa, which lies about 30 kilometres away over densely forested tracks navigable only on foot or on two wheels. At the single pre-primary class at Lok Biradari Prakalp, or LBP, an ash

television

THE LEDE

television

LOVE OF GOD Indonesia falls for an Indian television remake of the Mahabharata By Pallavi Aiyer

hero. But in this case the hero happens to be someone who speaks no Indonesian, and had only been in the country for about a month when the show started: the Indian actor Shaheer Sheikh, who played Arjuna in the 2013 television series Mahabharat, an extravagant adaptation of the mythological epic by Star Plus. Every Saturday, the women line up on a stage, dubbed the “bharata yudha” zone, and Sheikh sends one of them home. The winner, who will be announced at the end of December, will travel with Sheikh to India. The Indonesian channel ANTV bought the rights to the Mahabharat from Star Plus, and started airing a dubbed version of the show this March. I first came across this Bahasa Indonesia Mahabharat in June, when I began to tune into ANTV every evening for its exclusive regional broadcasts of the FIFA World Cup. Mahabharat was aired just prior to each day’s opening matches. As I waited for well-built men to take to the football field, I ended up watching well-built men in faux-gold jewellery fighting with magical weapons instead. ANTV soon discovered that the ratings for the mythological series were higher than those for the football. At its peak, the show reached 7.6 percent of Indonesia’s television viewership; the World Cup final reached only 6.2 percent.

Star Plus. Every Saturday, the women line up on a stage, dubbed the “bharata yudha” zone, and Sheikh sends one of them home. The winner, who will be announced at the end of December, will travel with Sheikh to India. The Indonesian channel ANTV bought the rights to the Mahabharat from Star Plus, and started airing a dubbed version of the show this March. I first came across this Bahasa Indonesia Mahabharat in June, when I began to tune into ANTV every evening for its exclusive regional broadcasts of the FIFA World Cup. Mahabharat was aired just prior to each day’s opening matches. As I waited for well-built men to take to the football field, I ended up watching well-built men in faux-gold jewellery fighting with magical weapons instead. ANTV soon discovered that the ratings for the mythological series were higher than those for the football. At its peak, the show reached 7.6 percent of Indonesia’s television viewership; the World Cup final reached only 6.2 percent.

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

140

the lede O

THE LEDE LOVE OF GOD Indonesia falls for an Indian television remake of the Mahabharata By Pallavi Aiyer a month when the show started: the Indian actor Shaheer Sheikh, who played Arjuna in the 2013 television series Mahabharat, an extravagant adaptation of the mythological epic by Star Plus. Every Saturday, the women line up on a stage, dubbed the “bharata yudha” zone, and Sheikh sends one of them home. The winner, who will be announced at the end of December, will travel with Sheikh to India. The Indonesian channel ANTV bought the rights to the Mahabharat from Star Plus, and started airing a dubbed version of the show this March. I first came across this Bahasa Indonesia Mahabharat in June, when I began to tune into ANTV every evening for its exclusive regional broadcasts of the FIFA World Cup. Mahabharat was aired just prior to each day’s opening matches. As I waited for well-built men to take to the football field, I ended up watching well-built men in fauxgold jewellery fighting with magical weapons instead. ANTV soon discovered that the ratings for the mythological series were higher than those for the football. At its peak, the show reached 7.6 percent of Indonesia’s television viewership; the World Cup final reached only 6.2 percent. I met with Kelly da Cunha, ANTV’s general manager of production, in a boxy backstage room a few hours before filming for the Panah elimination round was to begin. Middle-aged and portly, da Cunha chuckled compulsively while recounting the numbers. “With these kinds of ratings, we decided to go further,” he explained. Early this October, ANTV brought seven Mahabharat cast members over from India to perform in a live, three-hour stage show in Jakarta. The programme consisted of interviews and assorted histrionics—such as the five Pandavas and their archenemies, Duryodhana and Karna, gyrating to music that, though loud, could not drown out the ululations of the hundreds-strong, largely female audience. The popularity of a show based on the Mahabharata in Muslim-majority Indonesia might seem surprising, but da Cunha explained that Hindu epics are part of the country’s culture. For centuries, many parts of the Indonesian archipelago were majority-Hindu. By the seventh century CE, Hindu–Buddhist

Image description goes here. Image description goes over here.

LOVE OF GOD The popularity of a show based on the Mahabharata in Muslim-majority Indonesia might seem surprising, but da Cunha explained that Hindu epics are part of the country’s culture.

Indonesia falls for an Indian remake of the Mahabharata

speaks no Indonesian, and had only been in the country for about a month when the show started: the Indian actor Shaheer Sheikh, who played Arjuna in the 2013 television series Mahabharat, an extravagant adaptation of the mythological epic by Star Plus. Every Saturday, the women line up on a stage, dubbed the “bharata yudha” zone, and Sheikh sends one of them home. The winner, who will be announced at the end of December, will travel with Sheikh to India. The Indonesian channel ANTV bought the rights to the Mahabharat from Star Plus, and started airing a dubbed version of the show this March. I first came across this Bahasa Indonesia Mahabharat in June, when I began to tune into ANTV every evening for its exclusive regional broadcasts of the FIFA World Cup. Mahabharat was aired just prior to each day’s opening matches. As I waited for well-built men to take to the football field, I ended up watching well-built men in faux-gold jewellery fighting with magical weapons instead. ANTV soon discovered that the ratings for the mythological series were higher than those for the football. At its peak, the show reached 7.6 percent of Indonesia’s television viewership; the World Cup final reached only 6.2 percent.

THE LEDE

Image description goes here. Image description goes over here.

LOVE OF GOD The popularity of a show based on the Mahabharata in Muslim-majority Indonesia might seem surprising, but da Cunha explained that Hindu epics are part of the country’s culture.

Round 3, Approach #2 Keywords- Bold, contemporary This approach was characterized by chunky typography and stark visual elements. The most prominent element on page is the section header. The alignment of various elements is unconventional and dynamic.

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

The Process

Indonesia falls for an Indian remake of the Mahabharata

141 The Lede

01 The popularity of a show based on the Mahabharata in Muslim-majority Indonesia might seem surprising, but da Cunha explained that Hindu epics are part of the country’s culture. For centuries, many parts of the Indonesian archipelago were majorityHindu. By the seventh century CE, Hindu–Buddhist kingdoms dominated both Java and Sumatra—Indonesia’s two most populous islands. Ever since, Hindu cultural norms have infused indigenous mores, even after large-scale conversion to Islam in the sixteenth century. References to the epics are everywhere in Java—the language, the street signs, the political commentary. In Jakarta, many buses are painted with lurid advertisements for an energy drink called Kuku Bima, which promises Bhima-like endurance. An enormous statue of Krishna leading Arjun into battle dominates the roundabout in front of the Monas, the country’s main nationalist monument. There is a nationwide charitable foundation for twins named the Nakula and Sadewa Society. And one of the country’s bestselling novels, Amba, uses the story of Bhishma and Shikhandi (a later incarnation of Amba) to talk about Indonesia’s purges of communists in the mid 1960s.

Love of God Indonesia falls for an Indian television remake of the Mahabharata

The Lede

01 O

Jakarta. The programme consisted of interviews and assorted histrionics— such as the five Pandavas and their archenemies, Duryodhana and Karna, gyrating to music that, though loud, could not drown out the ululations of the hundreds-strong, largely female audience.

Love of God Indonesia falls for an Indian television remake of the Mahabharata

The popularity of a show based on the Mahabharata in Muslim-majority Indonesia might seem surprising, but da Cunha explained that Hindu epics are part of the country’s culture. For centuries, many parts of the Indonesian archipelago were majorityHindu. By the seventh century CE, Hindu–Buddhist kingdoms dominated both Java and Sumatra—Indonesia’s two most populous islands. Ever since, Hindu cultural norms have infused indigenous mores, even after large-scale conversion to Islam in the sixteenth century. References to the epics are everywhere in Java—the language, the street signs, the political commentary. In Jakarta, many buses are painted with lurid advertisements for an energy drink called Kuku Bima, which promises Bhima-like endurance. An enormous statue of Krishna leading Arjun into battle dominates the roundabout in front of the Monas, the country’s main nationalist monument. There is a nationwide charitable foundation for twins named the Nakula and Sadewa Society. And one of the country’s bestselling novels, Amba, uses the story of Bhishma and Shikhandi (a later incarnation of Amba) to talk about Indonesia’s purges of communists in the mid 1960s. Wayang kulit, a form of shadowpuppet theatre that features tales from the Mahabharata and the Ramayana, can draw tens of thousands to performances in rural Java. Indonesians feel a real sense of ownership over the epics. In the mid nineteenth century, Ronggowarsito, a poet from a royal court in central Java, wrote an apocryphal history that traced the lineage of the Javanese kings back to the Pandavas. Eventually, many

The Lede

01 O

Love of God Indonesia falls for an Indian television remake of the Mahabharata

The Lede

01 O

Love of God Indonesia falls for an Indian television remake of the Mahabharata

The Lede

“The popularity of a show based on the Mahabharata in Muslim-majority Indonesia might seem surprising, but da Cunha explained that Hindu epics are part of the country’s culture.”

Story by Pallavi Aiyer Images XYZ Archive

Love of God Indonesia falls for an Indian television remake of the Mahabharata

Round 3, Approach #3 Keywords- MInimalistic, clean These explorations primarily use a hairline rule as the fundamental graphic element. This rule has been cleverly used to divide space as well as guide the movement of the eye. The typographic contrast between the serif and san-serif fonts has been complemented and enhanced with use of red as an accent colour. In the shortlisted layout, each unit of information has its distinct space on the page. The section header and pull-quote set in red type have been given visual prominence.

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

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The shortlisted approaches of The Lede were used as guiding reference for explorations for the second section of the magazine called Commentary. Previously known as Perspective, during the restructuring it had been named Commentary. The biggest challenge while exploring layouts for this section was to retain the playfulness of The Lede while factoring in a reasonable level of â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;seriousnessâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;. Visual continuity between the two section was necessary since they both belong to the FoB.

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

The Process

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COMMENTARY

A NAME UPON A GRAVE

MILITARY

India needs a proper account of the army’s war dead

Words Anit Mukherjee

n the night of 4 February 2000, an army post I was commanding in Kashmir was fired upon. The incident was unremarkable at the time—just a few months after the Kargil war—and no one was hurt. The next morning, a patrol went to investigate the site from where the shots were fired. (I was away from my post on another operation.) One of the members of the patrol was Manokaran, a barber by trade, who was in many ways the live wire of the company. He should have been on leave but, a week before, faced with a shortage of personnel, I had ordered him to postpone his departure by two weeks. Manokaran accepted this cheerfully. At the site, the patrol discovered a backpack containing some clothes and a steel tiffin box. The patrol commander, an experienced Gurkha, ordered that the box not be disturbed, but Manokaran, with characteristic daredevilry, exclaimed, “Maut se kyun dartey ho?” (Why are you afraid of death?) and opened it. This triggered an improvised explosive device, which blew out his eyes. Within an hour, I was at the scene shouting into a radio to call for casualty evacuation, and ordering a medic to do more to save Manokaran’s life. I could not get myself to do what I should have done: hold his hand to comfort him. Just before he was put on a helicopter, I finally took his hand, and lied to him that he was going to be OK. He was crying for his mother. Manokaran died before the helicopter landed at Badamibagh cantonment in Srinagar. Many years later, I gave up my uniform and started a new career as an academic. One afternoon I came upon a section of the Indian Army’s official website titled “Pay Homage to

Your Martyrs”. It includes a database listing the name, rank, service number, home state, unit, and regiment of apparently every soldier who has died in all of India’s post-independence wars, as well as the name of the operations in which they died and their dates of death. In a way that other soldiers would understand, I searched out Manokaran’s name, and was happy to find that his death was listed and thereby honoured. But then, as academics do, I started to collate and analyse the army’s information. The overall picture that emerged was disturbing. The total number of “martyrs” listed in the army’s publicly accessible database is nearly 30 percent greater than the number of fatalities that has been reported by the government in parliament. In each of the country’s major military operations, except the 1962 Sino-Indian war, more soldiers have apparently died than has been officially acknowledged by the government. It’s not clear what the inclusion criteria are for the casualties listed on the website, and it’s possible that the discrepancies are unintentional. But the size of the difference suggests, at the very least, a serious accounting failure. Perhaps more importantly, it suggests that we may not have all the data we need to properly look after the next of kin of those who have sacrificed their lives for the country; only if we know who the dead are can we fulfil our moral and financial responsibilities to their families. Honouring soldiers who fall in battle is an ancient activity and has been observed across societies. But it was only after the American Civil War, notes the historian Drew Gilpin Faust in her seminal book, This Republic of Suffering, that the idea

took root that governments are obligated to honour their war dead by naming and counting them. “A name upon a list was like a name upon a grave,” Faust writes, “a repository of memory, a gesture of immortality for those who had made the supreme sacrifice.” In October of last year, I enlisted the help of my father, retired Wing Commander Pulak Mukherjee (a fighter pilot turned software engineer), to collate and analyse the data on the “Pay Homage to Your Martyrs” web page. It is unclear who created and maintains this dataset, but it accurately reflects the details of fallen colleagues and friends I knew, as well as those of many soldiers often included in the pantheon of national heroes, such as Lieutenant Colonel Tarapore (1965 war), Lance Naik Albert Ekka (1971 war), and Captain Manoj Kumar Pandey (Kargil war), to name a few. The dataset listed casualties in all known Indian operations, as well as one operation that I had never heard of. In total, the database lists at least 31,700 casualties. We collated information for those operations for which the government has presented figures in parliament: the 1947–48 Kashmir war, the 1962 Sino-Indian war, the 1965 and 1971 India-Pakistan wars, the 1987–90 Sri Lanka operations, the 1999 Kargil war, and the 2001–02 mobilisation along the India-Pakistan border known as Operation Parakram. Sorting through the records, it became clear that the database was poorly maintained. Some of the data was coded incorrectly; for instance, 432 casualties that occurred during the 1965 war were listed under the 1962 war. We corrected for this in our analysis. There were also errors such as duplicate or

missing service numbers, and fatalities dated years or even decades after the operation under which they were listed. We excluded these records from our final analysis. However, because of their large number, we included 2,354 records with missing casualty dates. Despite these problems, the database revealed a great deal. According to figures presented in parliament, the total fatalities suffered in all these operations was 13,946. But according to the army website, we lost 17,874 soldiers—a difference of 28 percent. The website showed that, during the Kargil war, we lost 970 soldiers; as recently as November 2012, Minister of State for Defence Jitendra Singh reported in parliament that the losses amounted to only 530—a difference of 83 percent. During Operation Parakram, which was launched after the attack on the parliament building in 2001, we lost 2,165 soldiers according to the website—more than in the Kargil war, or in the Indian Peace Keeping Force operations in Sri Lanka between 1987 and 1990. This is 271 percent higher than the figure—798—that the then defence minister, George Fernandes, stated in parliament in July 2003. (Interestingly, 52 percent of the soldiers who died in all of these operations are from Punjab, Haryana, Jammu and Kashmir, Uttaranchal and Himachal Pradesh, according to the database—states that altogether account for only 7 percent of India’s population.) In addition to these discrepancies, there were 554 fatalities listed under Operation Dummy, not a single one with a date of casualty. It’s possible that this was a label created by programmers to test the database, or that it represents non-

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

In this shortlisted layout, we decided to use multiple number of images for the opening spread of the section to give a more distinct sense of beginning. The images were composed sequentially to give a visual narrative of the piece. Although, in concept this design was appreciated, the editors felt it won’t be an economically viable direction since using four images on a single spread would cost a considerable amount.

Graduation Project 2015

The Well (Cover Story)

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With a satisfying level of explorations with the Front of the Book section, we decided to move on to the Well. The idea was to explore all sections of the magazine one by one before getting into developing the final design directions. Moving forward in this way gave me a good understanding of the need and limitations of each section proved to be very helpful while attempting the cover-to-cover dummies which are discussed in the second volume of this document. The Well is the meat of the magazine. With reportage pieces running upto 10 spreads, the offers the most intense and in depth reading experience to the readers. The design for the well had to account for this extended reading.

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

The Process

For the cover story (and resultantly other reportage pieces), we decided to use design as a background tool to enhance and aide reading. While we had proposed a three column layout in most of the explorations for the FoB, for the Well we decided to retain the two column layout. This was mainly due to the massive length of the pieces and the amount of time that a reader is required to spend with an average reportage piece. With the opening spreads, the effort was to give a more definitive visual break to prepare the reader for the upcoming intense section. Resultantly, most of the section opener explorations are visual-heavy.

145 REPORTAGE

THE NETWORK EFFECT

WordsRahul Bhatia

ONE

PhotoCNN Archive

THE NETWORK EFFECT

Reliance and right-wing politics gain a foothold in Raghav Bahl’s media empire

son was washed out by the retrenchments to come. Between phone calls, over cups of coffee not quite large enough, the employee laid out the stark operational plan for the next 24 hours. “HR plans to finish by tomorrow evening. They want to finish it in a day.” The employee was reconciled to the job cuts, but wished they had been handled in a better way; Network18’s HR personnel had met in conference rooms to discuss these cuts in full view of the staff outside. “Tomorrow the HR person is going to tell them that the company is restructuring, and there’s going to be an integration of newsrooms,” the senior employee told me. To minimise the chances of backlash, the layoffs would all be communicated at one go. Over the course of our conversation, the person’s phone rang twice. Both callers wanted the same thing: information that would help them understand what was about to happen the next day. The group had been uncommunicative with most of its workforce (and would continue to be so for months afterward). The senior employee told me that a list of employees to be fired had been shown to editors; it was an indicative draft, but the heads of various departments began to quietly inform the people listed on it

Reliance and right-wing politics gain a foothold in Raghav Bahl’s media empire

REPORTAGE A story by Rahul Bhatia

s discussions about the food security bill played on displays around the room, Rajdeep Sardesai took a seat at the centre of a simmering news pit in Mumbai, looking like he could use a break. Just ten days earlier, on 16 August, CNN-IBN and IBN7, the channels he oversees as editor-in-chief of the IBN Network, had witnessed the sudden layoffs of approximately 300 producers, cameramen, and reporters. Sardesai’s base of operations, at the channels’ headquarters in Noida, had been the worst affected by the forced departures; there, reporters and anchors on air had completed their broadcast and stepped off to find they no longer had a job. The layoffs were part of a large restructuring exercise recommended by Mercer and Ernst & Young for TV18, which was part of the gargantuan Network18 group. The group’s employees were told that management wanted to integrate the processes of its expansive media empire, which included CNBC-TV18, the IBN channels, Forbes India magazine, the website Firstpost, and a host of other channels and outlets across television, print and the internet. The night before the layoffs, I met a senior CNN-IBN employee at a dimly lit coffee shop in Bandra, Mumbai. This person was washed out by the retrenchments to come. Between phone calls, over cups of coffee not quite large enough, the employee laid out the stark operational plan for the next 24 hours. “HR plans to finish by tomorrow evening. They want to finish it in a day.” The employee was reconciled to the job cuts, but wished they had been handled in a better way; Network18’s HR personnel had met in conference rooms to discuss these cuts in full view of the staff outside. “Tomorrow the HR person is going to tell them that the company is restructuring, and there’s going to be an integration of newsrooms,” the senior employee told me. To minimise the chances of backlash, the layoffs would all be communicated at one go. Over the course of our conversation, the person’s phone rang twice. Both callers wanted the same thing: information that would help them understand what was about to happen the next day. The group had been uncommunicative with most of its workforce (and would continue to be so for months afterward). The senior employee told me that a list of employees to be fired had been shown to editors; it was an indicative draft, but the heads of various departments began

to quietly inform the people listed on it on their own. There seemed to be no recognisable pattern to the names. The company had marked for dismissal inexperienced rookies and old hands alike. Well-regarded reporters who had been with the group for some years were going, as was at least one person from the camera department on a salary below R10,000. “Reporters from IBN7 stopped coming to work because they were interviewing for other jobs,” the senior employee said. Sardesai had last visited the Mumbai bureau in July, by which time the rumours were flying so thick they were impossible to ignore. “Rajdeep said that we had to be prepared for a restructuring,” a former producer recalled. But he also told them that good workers had no reason to worry. Elsewhere in the building, Ritu Kapur, the History TV18 programming head, who is married to Raghav Bahl, the founder and managing director of Network18, told the entertainment team that their concerns about impending layoffs were unwarranted. “Ritu said, ‘No, no! What are you saying?’” a person present recalled. The deceptions grated on reporters, who felt they were owed the truth. Over the last eight years, Sardesai had fostered an atmosphere of openness; his employees had always been comfortable expressing strong opinions that differed from his. But in contrast with the company line—and her own —Kapur informed Rajeev Masand and Vanita Singh, two IBN editors, that over two-thirds of their reporters were going to be made redundant. “They were asked to say what each person brings to the table,” the senior employee said. Masand “spent hours on heated calls” to protect his team from being culled, the producer told me. Smitha Nair, the sharp, quick-talking Mumbai bureau chief, was “walking around red-eyed, in tears,” according to the producer. Among themselves, reporters began to call the coming day, 16 August, Black Friday. A clamour grew within and outside the studios that Friday; staff leaked details of the resignations online, in real time. Across Network18, approximately 350 people were asked to resign in one day. Several programmes on CNBC were scrapped with immediate effect. In Mumbai, CNN-IBN’s bureau of five news reporters, already stretched thin, was reduced to three. At the end of the day, Sardesai wrote on his Twitter feed—otherwise a mix of programme previews and

on their own. There seemed to be no recognisable pattern to the names. The company had marked for dismissal inexperienced rookies and old hands alike. Well-regarded reporters who had been with the group for some years were going, as was at least one person from the camera department on a salary below R10,000. “Reporters from IBN7 stopped coming to work because they were interviewing for other jobs,” the senior employee said. Sardesai had last visited the Mumbai bureau in July, by which time the rumours were flying so thick they were impossible to ignore. “Rajdeep said that we had to be prepared for a restructuring,” a former producer recalled. But he also told them that good workers had no reason to worry. Elsewhere in the building, Ritu Kapur, the History TV18 programming head, who is married to Raghav Bahl, the founder and managing director of Network18, told the entertainment team that their concerns about impending layoffs were unwarranted. “Ritu said, ‘No, no! What are you saying?’” a person present recalled. The deceptions grated on reporters, who felt they were owed the truth. Over the last eight years, Sardesai had fostered an atmosphere of openness; his employees had always been comfortable expressing strong opinions that differed from his. But in contrast with the company line—and her own — Kapur informed Rajeev Masand and Vanita Singh, two IBN editors, that over two-thirds of their reporters were going to be made redundant. “They were asked to say what each person brings to the table,” the senior employee said. Masand “spent hours on heated calls” to protect his team from being culled, the producer told me. Smitha Nair, the sharp, quicktalking Mumbai bureau chief, was “walking around red-eyed, in tears,” according to the producer. Among themselves, re27| December 2013| THE CARAVAN

porters began to call the coming day, 16 August, Black Friday. A clamour grew within and outside the studios that Friday; staff leaked details of the resignations online, in real time. Across Network18, approximately 350 people were asked to resign in one day. Several programmes on CNBC were scrapped with immediate effect. In Mumbai, CNN-IBN’s bureau of five news reporters, already stretched thin, was reduced to three. At the end of the day, Sardesai wrote on his Twitter feed—otherwise a mix of programme previews and observations from his morning walks—“Hurt and pain can be lonely. You must grieve in solitude. Gnight.” The layoffs at Network18 came at a time of enormous stress for Indian media. The exigencies of the market have caused advertisers to withdraw. Earlier this year, regulators proposed that each hour of television should contain only 12 minutes of advertising. There are prohibitive carriage fees made by television broadcasters to cable networks. Network18, for instance, paid R584 crore for distribution and marketing in 2012–13. “The weakening rupee has made dollar payments more expensive; for a group like Network18, with 15 foreign subsidiaries and a number of licensing agreements, fluctuating exchange rates can prove worrisome. In July, the Outlook Group decided to close three magazines, and laid off over 100 staff. Years of large losses at NDTV’s general, business, and lifestyle channels—reversed only this year—have resulted in a steady stream of retrenchments over the past four years. Network18’s unique approach to brand-building made it especially vulnerable. The group presently has a market value of approximately $1.1 billion (as of 24 November this year), making it India’s third-biggest publicly listed media conglomerate. Tens of millions watch the group’s 27 national and

regional television channels in at least 11 languages. A joint movie studio venture makes tentpoles—films whose success hold up several other ventures—as well as more realistic fare. It owns a large online retail company, event and sports management concerns, specialty magazines, news websites and a newswire, and produces, exhibits, and distributes its own content. It has—to state it mildly—considerable reach. But its biggest news properties were built on tie-ups with global giants: CNN, CNBC, Viacom, A+E Networks, Forbes, and Entrepreneur, among others. It had built its stellar reputation on aggressive and expensive strategies, such as the lavish campaigns which had helped launch the television channel Colors in 2008. It was the most glamorous possible proposition for anyone who had the spare change to buy into a media company of its size and stature—and this was in spite of the fact that its stability was precarious. In January 2012, Reliance Industries Limited (RIL), India’s second-largest publicly listed company, had announced it would invest a substantial sum in Network18. At the time, they looked like saviours: over two days, Network18 stock jumped 27 percent. The movement indicated a kind of euphoria, given that Network18’s share price had, at the time, fallen almost 95 percent from its 2007 highs. It had incurred over R800 crore in accumulated losses in 2011–2012—while the company said its losses were R191 crore ($30.45 million), had it not used a convenient accounting standard, its losses would have been R835 crore ($133.12 million). But Reliance’s investment was also disconcerting. A company with strong links to government and extraordinary interests in petrochemicals, refining, and telecommunications, had helped ease mounting debt at an influential news organisation that owned two business channels, a business website, and pub-

“HURT AND PAIN CAN BE LONELY. YOU MUST GRIEVE IN SOLITUDE. GNIGHT.” lished the business magazine Forbes India. “I don’t think the group saw how it was going to be perceived,” a senior editor at Firstpost told me this October. Thanks to Reliance’s investment, a rapidly expanding group deeply in debt and prone to frequent cost-cutting measures now had the one thing that had been in perennially short supply: security. For some employees down the chain, the investment seemed like a boon. “We felt a little good about a reliable company buying a stake,” a reporter who was later laid off told me. “We thought it would become more stable.” When I met Tushar Pania, a spokesperson for Reliance, at the company’s office in south Mumbai this September, he claimed that they had very little role in the retrenchments. “It’s not our intent to run the business,” he said. “We don’t know the media business. If we wanted to run Network18, we would have run it.” Taking his place in the Mumbai newsroom that day in August, Sardesai bared his feelings to the people who remained. “I want to apologise,” he told them. “We feel bad about it. It’s heartbreaking.” Almost immediately, someone responded angrily. “A month ago we asked you about it. Why did you lie to us? Are you saying that you didn’t know a month ago?” Sardesai reasoned with her, saying, “Panic would have spread.” She disagreed: “No, instead people would have quit and looked for jobs.” Editors, reporters, and producers told THE CARAVAN| December 2013| 27

REPORTAGE

me they were disturbed by the manner in which the sackings were conducted. In CNN-IBN’s camera department, “people were fired by the heads based on their friendship,” a producer said to me. “The camera heads told camera guys they were being fired based on reporter feedback. But forget reporters, they did not take any feedback even from the bureau chief.” Sardesai seemed to know of the mismanagement in this department, according to the producer, and was upset by it. Looking to his left, where the camera division staff were clustered, he pointed out, “If it was done unfairly, and there are slackers here, they will be pulled up for it.” Even as Sardesai strove to mend fences, an observer said, he “looked defeated”. The decision to fire people had not been his to make, and yet, because the channel responded to his leadership, the episode had undermined him. Still, he did what he could, a senior editor told me. “Some people got six months’ salary.” The company eventually made severance payments amounting to R10.27 crore. Nearly every person I spoke with was sympathetic to Sardesai. “At some level he hasn’t taken it well,” one employee present that day said to me later. Sardesai wrote them apologetic text messages that a couple of employees I met said they ignored. In the newsroom, perhaps under strain, or perhaps in a moment of weakness, he disarmed the bureau with a confession of his helplessness. He told them that he would leave if he “was to face this again.” Sardesai explained to everyone in the newsroom that he had resisted pressure from management to reduce the channels’ payroll four years ago, when rising costs had induced similar layoffs elsewhere in the group. “This time we couldn’t resist, Sardesai said to the newsroom. “The business model had become too cumbersome.” He was asked why the channel had continued to hire for four years if they had been under pressure. “I agree,” the producer recalled him conceding. “We thought things would stabilise. It was poor management.” “There’s some kind of obfuscation,” the senior employee told me. “I don’t know why someone didn’t just say, ‘we’re not doing well.’ The perception is that the company is doing well. It’s acquiring properties left, right and centre, so why are you firing what you know is a lean team? This is going to affect news gathering. A compromise on quantity is a compromise on quality.” The changes taking place across the group’s publications had other, less visible consequences. Over three meetings at a coffee shop in central Mumbai in January this year, R Jagannathan, the editor-in-chief for web and print at Network18, and Indrajit Gupta, then editor-in-chief of Forbes India, discussed a possible integration between Forbes India and Firstpost, the network’s opinion site. Jagannathan believed that the 40-strong Forbes India team, which produced a fortnightly magazine, a quarterly, and also handled ForbesIndia. com, should produce less local content and instead help build the Firstpost brand. Gupta thought this would change the character of Forbes India, whose circulation, company press releases claimed, had reached 75,000 copies. In less than five years, the magazine had attained R25 crore in revenues on the back of in-depth Indian business reporting. At the end of each meeting, the two editors parted uneasily; multiple mem27| December 2013| THE CARAVAN

bers of the Forbes India staff told me that it became clear that unpleasant changes were on the way. The next month, Jagannathan began to attend Forbes India’s edit meetings. During one such meeting at the end of February, he dismissed several ideas from the staff, and told the Forbes India team that they were “screwing up”, according to a person present there. Glancing at a sheet of paper he had arrived with, he yelled at the room, “You’re doing it wrong. Forbes is about the wealthy. It’s about right wing politics. You guys are writing about development and poverty. If you guys don’t get it, I’m going to make sure that you do.” His hands shook as he read the prepared note. The person present there told me, “He was under so much pressure. It was clear he had arrived with a brief from someone. I suspect it was from Raghav.” Jagannathan did not respond to messages for comment.

n 3 January 2012, TV18, the television arm of Network18, announced that its board, led by Bahl, had approved a sum of up to R2,100 crore to acquire the stake held by Reliance in Eenadu Television Network (ETV). ETV had regional muscle; the network was started in 1995 by Ramoji Rao, the influential Hyderabad tycoon whose media empire had expanded to include 12 popular entertainment and news channels in over seven states. If ETV’s regional reach was combined with the national reach of TV18, they would together command over 25 national and regional channels across news and general entertainment. In a press release announcing the deal, Network18 was unrelenting in its optimism that the group had finally turned around. It insisted that authority would reside solely in the hands of Bahl and his management team. In addition, the board said that TV18 and Network18, which had a combined net worth of R1,643crore, would together raise R5,400 crore from the market, and use the gains to pay off all debt. If they weren’t able to raise enough, Bahl would buy up the shares that remained through his own private companies that controlled both Network18 and TV18, which are publicly listed firms. To do this, Bahl would receive funding from a body called Independent Media Trust. This trust had been set up for Reliance’s benefit. Bahl brimmed with positivity in an earnings call with analysts later that day, telling everyone that he maintained “full undiluted control” over the Network18 group. The message was reasserted in stories that the group’s channels ran. CNNIBN stated emphatically that, “Management and editorial control will continue to be held by TV18 promoters.” On the call, when analysts pressed him for details, Bahl turned them down. At the end, he dispatched them with a bright but vague message. The deal was “a landmark transaction” that gave the company a chance to begin afresh, and build on the limitless opportunities before it. According to Reliance’s press statements, the partnership

According to Reliance’s press statements, the partnership with Network18 would ensure a ready supply of content to the company when their ambitious plans for 4G network services finally took off. Bahl said Reliance saw it purely as an investment.

with Network18 would ensure a ready supply of content to the company when their ambitious plans for 4G network services finally took off. Bahl said Reliance saw it purely as an investment. He chose not to disclose that the investment had left his control over the business in a far more perilous state than at any time in its 18-year history. In exchange for its funding, Network18’s promoter companies would issue convertible debentures—put simply, financial instruments backed by company assets that could be exchanged for regular shares—to Reliance. Effectively, this would make the group Reliance’s to control. This was explained lucidly in a Competition Commission of India order that approved the deal in May 2012, which pointed out that the acquisition of debentures had “the ultimate intended effect of RIL acquiring control over Network18 group.” Over the next month, Bahl met the group’s editors in individual meetings to discuss the group’s benefactor. Indrajit Gupta told me Bahl asked for his opinion on handling stories about Reliance and media in Forbes India. “My feedback was very simple. We should continue to do stories on Reliance and media. He asked, ‘Do we really need to?’” Reliance’s name provokes a certain kind of reaction among the media in India. The reaction, more often than not, is to proceed with caution. This prudence applies to stories about the company and its interests, as well as to its controlling family, the Ambanis, regarding whom every word that makes it into print is treated with unparalleled care. In early November, when a writer at the Economic Times mistakenly captioned a photograph of Mukesh Ambani’s wife, Nita, with the name of his brother’s wife, Tina, the paper’s editors, in the words of a reporter present, “went crazy.” In the early 1990s, long before Mukesh and Anil Ambani split their father’s legacy and went their separate ways in 2003, Dhirubhai Ambani’s Reliance had put out the Business and Political Observer, and its weekend companion, the Sunday Observer. The company’s relations with the press in the pre-

REPORTAGE| Image description goes here| Credit

Image description goes here| Credit| REPORTAGE

REPORTAGE

ceding years had not always been tranquil; in the 1980s, the Indian Express had doggedly pursued stories of the company’s irregularities and its mutually beneficial relationship with Indira Gandhi’s government. The Observer was “intended to put across their own point of view,” according to a former senior editor who worked there. “They would do slanted editorials, or slanted stories—part of it would be fact, and part of it would be puffed up.” The Observer had a brief life, but Reliance’s shadow over the media grew long in the years to come. In a 2008 New York Times piece on Mukesh Ambani, the writer Anand Giridhardas wrote, “A prominent Indian editor, formerly of the Times of India, who requested anonymity because of concerns about upsetting Ambani, says Reliance maintains good relationships with newspaper owners; editors, in turn, fear investigating it too closely. ‘I don’t think anyone else comes close to it,’ the editor said of Reliance’s sway. ‘I don’t think anyone is able to work the system as they can’.” In recent years, the company has begun to quietly acquire media outlets. As the Competition Commission order confirmed in plain terms, it had gained effective control of both Network18 and ETV without appearing to own the networks. In November, the journalist Paranjoy Guha Thakurta revealed on the media news and criticism website, The Hoot, that the Serious Fraud Investigation Office, an organisation under the Ministry of Corporate Affairs, had accused Reliance of “having engineered a series of allegedly illegal transactions to control a company that controlled the NewsX television channel.” Big business has always been well-disposed THE CARAVAN| December 2013| 27

observations from his morning walks—“Hurt and pain can be lonely. You must grieve in solitude. Gnight.” The layoffs at Network18 came at a time of enormous stress for Indian media. The exigencies of the market have caused advertisers to withdraw. Earlier this year, regulators proposed that each hour of television should contain only 12 minutes of advertising. There are prohibitive carriage fees made by television broadcasters to cable networks. Network18, for instance, paid R584 crore for distribution and marketing in 2012–13. “The weakening rupee has made dollar payments more expensive; for a group like Network18, with 15 foreign subsidiaries and a number of licensing agreements, fluctuating exchange rates can prove worrisome. In July, the Outlook Group decided to close three magazines, and laid off over 100 staff. Years of large losses at NDTV’s general, business, and lifestyle channels— reversed only this year—have resulted in a steady stream of retrenchments over the past four years. Network18’s unique approach to brand-building made it especially vulnerable. The group presently has a market value of approximately $1.1 billion (as of 24 November this year), making it India’s third-biggest publicly listed media conglomerate. Tens of millions watch the group’s 27 national and regional television channels in at least 11 languages. A joint movie studio venture makes tentpoles—films whose success hold up several other ventures—as well as more realistic fare. It owns a large online retail company, event and sports management concerns, specialty magazines, news websites and a newswire, and produces, exhibits, and distributes its own content. It has—to state it mildly— considerable reach. But its biggest news properties were built on tie-ups with global giants: CNN, CNBC, Viacom, A+E Networks, Forbes, and Entrepreneur, among others. It had built its stellar reputation on aggressive and expensive strategies, such as the lavish campaigns which had helped launch the television channel Colors in 2008. It was the most glamorous possible proposition for anyone who had the spare change to buy into a media company of its size and stature—and this was in spite of the fact that its stability was precarious. In January 2012, Reliance Industries Limited (RIL), India’s second-largest publicly listed company, had announced it would invest a substantial sum in Network18. At the time, they looked like saviours: over two days, Network18 stock jumped 27 percent. The movement indicated a kind of euphoria, given that Network18’s share price had, at the time, fallen almost 95 percent from its 2007 highs. It had incurred over R800 crore in accumulated losses in 2011–2012—while the company said its losses were R191 crore ($30.45 million), had it not used a convenient accounting standard, its losses would have been R835 crore ($133.12 million). But Reliance’s investment was also disconcerting. A company with strong links to government and extraordinary interests in petrochemicals, refining, and telecommunications, had helped ease mounting debt at an influential news organisation that owned two business channels, a business website, and published the business 28

Raghav Bahl and Mukesh Ambani in a CNBC-TV18 programme from 2007

magazine Forbes India. “I don’t think the group saw how it was going to be perceived,” a senior editor at Firstpost told me this October. Thanks to Reliance’s investment, a rapidly expanding group deeply in debt and prone to frequent cost-cutting measures now had the one thing that had been in perennially short supply: security. For some employees down the chain, the investment seemed like a boon. “We felt a little good about a reliable company buying a stake,” a reporter who was later laid off told me. “We thought it would become more stable.” When I met Tushar Pania, a spokesperson for Reliance, at the company’s office in south Mumbai this September, he claimed that they had very little role in the retrenchments. “It’s not our intent to run the business,” he said. “We don’t know the media business. If we wanted to run Network18, we would have run it.” Taking his place in the Mumbai newsroom that day in August, Sardesai bared his feelings to the people who remained. “I want to apologise,” he told them. “We feel bad about it. It’s heartbreaking.” Almost immediately, someone responded angrily. “A month ago we asked you about it. Why did you lie to us? Are you saying that you didn’t know a month ago?” Sardesai reasoned with her, saying, “Panic would have spread.” She disagreed: “No, instead people would have quit and looked for jobs.” Editors, reporters, and producers told me they were disturbed by the manner in which the sackings were conducted. In CNN-IBN’s camera department, “people were fired by the heads based on their friendship,” a producer said to me. “The camera heads told camera guys they were being fired based on reporter feedback. But forget reporters, they did not take any

feedback even from the bureau chief.” Sardesai seemed to know of the mismanagement in this department, according to the producer, and was upset by it. Looking to his left, where the camera division staff were clustered, he pointed out, “If it was done unfairly, and there are slackers here, they will be pulled up for it.” Even as Sardesai strove to mend fences, an observer said, he “looked defeated”. The decision to fire people had not been his to make, and yet, because the channel responded to his leadership, the episode had undermined him. Still, he did what he could, a senior editor told me. “Some people got six months’ salary.” The company eventually made severance payments amounting to R10.27 crore. Nearly every person I spoke with was sympathetic to Sardesai. “At some level he hasn’t taken it well,” one employee present that day said to me later. Sardesai wrote them apologetic text messages that a couple of employees I met said they ignored. In the newsroom, perhaps under strain, or perhaps in a moment of weakness, he disarmed the bureau with a confession of his helplessness. He told them that he would leave if he “was to face this again.” Sardesai explained to everyone in the newsroom that he had resisted pressure from management to reduce the channels’ payroll four years ago, when rising costs had induced similar layoffs elsewhere in the group. “This time we couldn’t resist, Sardesai said to the newsroom. “The business model had become too cumbersome.” He was asked why the channel had continued to hire for four years if they had been under pressure. “I agree,” the producer recalled him conceding. “We thought

things would stabilise. It was poor management.” “There’s some kind of obfuscation,” the senior employee told me. “I don’t know why someone didn’t just say, ‘we’re not doing well.’ The perception is that the company is doing well. It’s acquiring properties left, right and centre, so why are you firing what you know is a lean team? This is going to affect news gathering. A compromise on quantity is a compromise on quality.” The changes taking place across the group’s publications had other, less visible consequences. Over three meetings at a coffee shop in central Mumbai in January this year, R Jagannathan, the editor-in-chief for web and print at Network18, and Indrajit Gupta, then editor-in-chief of Forbes India, discussed a possible integration between Forbes India and Firstpost, the network’s opinion site. Jagannathan believed that the 40-strong Forbes India team, which produced a fortnightly magazine, a quarterly, and also handled ForbesIndia.com, should produce less local content and instead help build the Firstpost brand. Gupta thought this would change the character of Forbes India, whose circulation, company press releases claimed, had reached 75,000 copies. In less than five years, the magazine had attained R25 crore in revenues on the back of in-depth Indian business reporting. At the end of each meeting, the two editors parted uneasily; multiple members of the Forbes India staff told me that it became clear that unpleasant changes were on the way. The next month, Jagannathan began to attend Forbes India’s edit meetings. During one such meeting at the end of February, he dismissed several ideas from the staff, and told the Forbes India team that they were “screwing up”, according to a person present there. Glancing at a sheet of paper he had arrived with, he yelled at the room, “You’re doing it wrong. Forbes is about the wealthy. It’s about right wing politics. You guys are writing about development and poverty. If you guys don’t get it, I’m going to make sure that you do.” His hands shook as he read the prepared note. The person present there told me, “He was under so much pressure. It was clear he had arrived with a brief from someone. I suspect it was from Raghav.” Jagannathan did not respond to messages for comment.

“HURT AND PAIN CAN BE LONELY. YOU MUST GRIEVE IN SOLITUDE. GNIGHT.”

REPORTAGE

TWO

“He knew what he wanted,” Srinivasan said. “He knew very early. He could be ruthless. He didn’t flinch once a decision was taken.” I asked him how he would describe the company’s growth. “They grow, they shrink, they grow.” This was a description I heard often. “Indian entrepreneurs lack a strategic vision,” Srinivasan said, speaking in general. “Have you heard of a five-year plan? Or a ten-year plan? In media you don’t know what’s happening six months later.”

n 3 January 2012, TV18, the television arm of Network18, announced that its board, led by Bahl, had approved a sum of up to R2,100 crore to acquire the stake held by Reliance in Eenadu Television Network (ETV). ETV had regional muscle; the network was started in 1995 by Ramoji Rao, the influential Hyderabad tycoon whose media empire had expanded to include 12 popular entertainment and news channels in over seven states. If ETV’s regional reach was combined with the national reach of TV18, they would together command over 25 national and regional channels across news and general entertainment. In a press release announcing the deal, Network18 was unrelenting in its optimism that the group had finally turned around. It insisted that authority would reside solely in the hands of Bahl and his management team. In addition, the board said that TV18 and Network18, which had a combined net worth of R1,643crore, would together raise R5,400 crore from the market, and use the gains to pay off all debt. If they weren’t able to raise enough, Bahl would buy up the shares that remained through his own private companies that controlled both Network18 and TV18, which are publicly listed firms. To do this, Bahl would receive funding from a body called Independent Media Trust. This trust had been set up for Reliance’s benefit. Bahl brimmed with positivity in an earnings call with analysts later that day, telling everyone that he maintained “full undiluted control” over the Network18 group. The message was reasserted in stories that the group’s channels ran. CNN-IBN stated emphatically that, “Management and editorial control will continue to be held by TV18 promoters.” On the call, when analysts pressed him for details, Bahl turned them down. At the end, he dispatched them with a bright but vague message. The deal was “a landmark transaction” that gave the company a chance to begin afresh, and build on the limitless opportunities before it. According to Reliance’s press statements, the partnership with Network18 would ensure a ready supply of content to the company when their ambitious plans for 4G network services finally took off. Bahl said Reliance saw it purely as an investment. He chose not to disclose that the investment had left his control over the business in a far more perilous state than at any time in its 18-year history. In exchange for its funding, Network18’s promoter companies would issue convertible debentures—put simply, financial instruments backed by company assets that could be exchanged for regular shares—to Reliance. Effectively, this would make the group Reliance’s to control. This was explained lucidly in a Competition Commission of India order that approved the deal in May 2012, which pointed out that the acquisition of

Raghav Bahl in his early years

debentures had “the ultimate intended effect of RIL acquiring control over Network18 group.” Over the next month, Bahl met the group’s editors in individual meetings to discuss the group’s benefactor. Indrajit Gupta told me Bahl asked for his opinion on handling stories about Reliance and media in Forbes India. “My feedback was very simple. We should continue to do stories on Reliance and media. He asked, ‘Do we really need to?’” Reliance’s name provokes a certain kind of reaction among the media in India. The reaction, more often than not, is to proceed with caution. This prudence applies to stories about the company and its interests, as well as to its controlling family, the Ambanis, regarding whom every word that makes it into print is treated with unparalleled care. In early November, when a writer at the Economic Times mistakenly captioned a photograph of Mukesh Ambani’s wife, Nita, with the name of his brother’s wife, Tina, the paper’s editors, in the words of a reporter present, “went crazy.” In the early 1990s, long before Mukesh and Anil Ambani split their father’s legacy and went their separate ways in 2003, Dhirubhai Ambani’s Reliance had put out the Business and Political Observer, and its weekend companion, the Sunday Observer. The company’s relations with the press in the preceding years had not always been tranquil; in the 1980s, the Indian Express had doggedly pursued stories of the company’s irregularities and its mutually beneficial relationship with Indira Gandhi’s government. The Observer was “intended to put across their own point of view,” according to a former senior editor who worked there. “They would do slanted editorials, or slanted stories—part of it would be fact, and part of it would be puffed up.”

Cover Story Exploration, Round #1 For the initial explorations for the cover story I began with designing the opening spread along with two subsequent spreads.

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Reportage

The Network Effect Reliance and right-wing politics gain a foothold in Raghav Bahl’s media empire

Round 2, Approach #1 Keywords- Classic For the classic approach, I used conventional graphic elements and the contrast between elements was minimal and understated. For the all the explorations alike, one page on the spread uses the cover image in full bleed.

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

The Process

completed their broadcast and stepped off to find they no longer had a job. The layoffs were part of a large restructuring exercise recommended by Mercer and Ernst & Young for TV18, which was part of the gargantuan Network18 group. The group’s employees were told that management wanted to integrate the processes of its expansive media empire, which included CNBC-TV18, the IBN channels, Forbes India magazine, the website Firstpost, and a host of other channels and outlets across television, print and the internet. The night before the layoffs, I met a senior CNN-IBN employee at a dimly

lit coffee shop in Bandra, Mumbai. This person was washed out by the retrenchments to come. Between phone calls, over cups of coffee not quite large enough, the employee laid out the stark operational plan for the next 24 hours. “HR plans to finish by tomorrow evening. They want to finish it in a day.” The employee was reconciled to the job cuts, but wished they had been handled in a better way; Network18’s HR personnel had met in conference rooms to discuss these cuts in full view of the staff outside. “Tomorrow the HR person is going to tell them that the company is restructuring, and there’s going to be an

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REPORTAGE

THE NETWORK EFFECT

Rahul Bhatia

As discussions about the food security bill played on displays around the room, Rajdeep Sardesai took a seat at the centre of a simmering news pit in Mumbai, looking like he could use a break. Just ten days earlier, on 16 August, CNN-IBN and IBN7, the channels he oversees as editor-in-chief of the IBN Network, had witnessed the sudden layoffs of approximately 300 producers, cameramen, and reporters. Sardesai’s base of operations, at the channels’ headquarters in Noida, had been the worst affected by the forced departures; there, reporters and anchors on air had completed their broadcast and stepped off to find they no longer had a job. The layoffs were part of a large restructuring exercise recommended by Mercer and Ernst & Young for TV18, which was part of the gargantuan Network18 group. The group’s employees were told that management wanted to integrate the processes of its expansive media empire, which included CNBC-TV18, the IBN channels, Forbes India magazine, the website Firstpost, and a host of other channels and outlets across television, print and the internet. The night before the layoffs, I met a senior CNN-IBN employee at a dimly lit coffee shop in Bandra, Mumbai. This person was washed out by the retrenchments to come. Between phone calls, over cups of coffee not quite large enough, the employee laid out the stark operational plan for the next 24 hours. “HR plans to finish by tomorrow evening. They want to finish it in a day.” The employee was reconciled to the job cuts, but wished they had been handled in a better way; Network18’s HR personnel had met in conference rooms to discuss these cuts in full view of the staff outside. “Tomorrow the HR person is going to tell them that the company is restructuring, and there’s going to be an integration of newsrooms,” the senior employee told me. To minimise the chances of backlash, the layoffs would all be communicated at one go. Over the course of our conversation, the person’s phone rang twice. Both callers wanted the same thing: information that would help them understand what was about to happen the next day. The group had been uncommunicative with most of its workforce (and would continue to be so for months afterward). The senior employee told me that

Round 2, Approach #2 Keyword- Quirky The off-beat nature of these explorations was defined by the use elements rather than the nature of elements. These designs used conventional elements in an unconventional manner to give a fresh and novel visual appeal to the spread. The formatting and placement of image was dynamic and utilized a liberal amount of breathing space.

Image description Credit Goes Here

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Round 2, Approach #3

The Network Effect

Keywords- Bold These explorations were characterized by use of stark and obvious visual elements that lend an assertive and authoritative voice to the page.

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

Reliance and right-wing politics get a foothold in Raghav Bahl’s media emprire

The Process

By Rahul Bhatia

television, print and the internet. The night before the layoffs, I met a senior CNN-IBN employee at a dimly lit coffee shop in Bandra, Mumbai. This person was washed out by the retrenchments to come. Between phone calls, over cups of coffee not quite large enough, the employee laid out the stark operational plan for the next 24 hours. “HR plans to finish by tomorrow evening. They want to finish it in a day.” The employee was reconciled to the job cuts, but wished they had been handled in a better way; Network18’s HR personnel had met in conference rooms to discuss these cuts in full view of the staff outside. “Tomorrow the HR person is going to tell them that the company is restructuring, and there’s going to be an integration of newsrooms,” the senior employee told me. To minimise the chances of backlash, the layoffs would all be communicated at one go. Over the course of our conversation, the person’s phone rang twice. Both callers wanted the same thing: information that would help them understand what was about to happen the next day. The group had been uncommunicative with most of its workforce (and would continue to be so for months afterward). The senior employee told me that a list of employees to be fired had been shown to editors; it was an indicative draft, but the heads of various departments began to quietly inform the people listed on it on their own. There seemed to be no recognisable pattern to the names. The company had marked for dismissal inexperienced rookies and old hands alike. Well-regarded reporters who had been with the group for some years were going, as was at least one person from the camera department on a salary below R10,000. “Reporters from IBN7 stopped coming to work because they were interviewing for other jobs,” the senior employee said. Sardesai had last visited the Mumbai bureau in July, by which time the rumours were flying so thick they were impossible to ignore. “Rajdeep said that we had to be prepared for a restructuring,” a former producer recalled. But he also told them that good workers had no reason to worry. Elsewhere in the building, Ritu Kapur, the History TV18

programming head, who is married to Raghav Bahl, the founder and managing director of Network18, told the entertainment team that their concerns about impending layoffs were unwarranted. “Ritu said, ‘No, no! What are you saying?’” a person present recalled. The deceptions grated on reporters, who felt they were owed the truth. Over the last eight years, Sardesai had fostered an atmosphere of openness; his employees had always been comfortable expressing strong opinions that differed from his. But in contrast with the company line—and her own —Kapur informed Rajeev Masand and Vanita Singh, two IBN editors, that over twothirds of their reporters were going to be made redundant. “They were asked to say what each person brings to the table,” the senior employee said. Masand “spent hours on heated calls” to protect his team from being culled, the producer told me. Smitha Nair, the sharp, quick-talking Mumbai bureau chief, was “walking around red-eyed, in tears,” according to the producer. Among themselves, reporters began to call the coming day, 16 August, Black Friday. A clamour grew within and outside the studios that Friday; staff leaked details of the resignations online, in real time. Across Network18, approximately 350 people were asked to resign in one day. Several programmes on CNBC were scrapped with immediate effect. In Mumbai, CNN-IBN’s bureau of five news reporters, already stretched thin, was reduced to three. At the end of the day, Sardesai wrote on his Twitter feed—otherwise a mix of programme previews and observations from his morning walks—“Hurt and pain can be lonely. You must grieve in solitude. Gnight.” The layoffs at Network18 came at a time of enormous stress for Indian media. The exigencies of the market have caused advertisers to withdraw. Earlier this year, regulators proposed that each hour of television should contain only 12 minutes of advertising. There are prohibitive carriage fees made by television broadcasters to cable networks. Network18, for instance, paid R584 crore for distribution and marketing in 2012–13. “The weakening rupee has

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A Story by Rahul Bhatia

The Network Effect Reliance and right-wing politics gain a foothold in Raghav Bahl’s media empire

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Round 2, Approach #4

REPORTAGE

Keywords- Playful

Reliance and right-wing politics gain a foothold in Raghav Bahl’s media empire

With this approach I decided to let go of all conventional expectations from a cover story opening spread. Many of the explorations focused on typographically treated openers which are an uncommon sight in Indian magazines.

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

The Process

THE NETWO EFFEC

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THE NETWORK EFFECT Reliance and right-wing politics gain a foothold in Raghav Bahl’s media empire

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

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Back of the Book

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Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

In the last phase of explorations, I moved to the review sections at the back of the book. By this time I had gained a fair understanding of the nuances of magazine design and had also become very fluent with the underlying grid.

The design explorations too had to take advantage of the visual nature of the content by allowing for a layout that provided multiple efficient ways of using photographs and illustrations.

As a result, these explorations were the most innovative and dynamic of the lot. A major difference between this section and the rest of the book was the difference in content. The BoB carries comparatively laid back content and has far more visual content than the FoB and Well.

For the sake of simplifying the process of finalizing a design, for each approach I designed a set of three spreads, the section opener, one middle spread and the concluding spread. The explorations shown in the following spreads have also been grouped in the same manner.

The Process

153 review [art]

‘in order to join’ allows women to become interpreters of history

Though drawn from disparate contexts, work by artists such as Lala Rukh and Mona Hatoum communicates seamlessly in the show.

Taking A Part A

text karanjeet kaur images z archive x archive y archive

rummana hussain’s installation, “a space for healing,” was made in 1999, shortly before the artist died of cancer.

the video at In Order to Join: The Political in a Historical Moment—a hefty exhibition currently on show in Mumbai. The video was dated 5 December 1983, and Hatoum was likely reacting to the 1982 invasion of Lebanon, her adoptive country, by Israeli forces; and to the civil war that had started there nearly seven years earlier. Still the contemporaneousness of her work is uncanny. This is true of most exhibits at In Order to Join, which brings together pieces by 14 women from various countries to Mumbai’s Max Mueller Bhavan and Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Vastu Sangrahalaya, or CSMVS—two venues separated by a five-minute walk. The curators, Swapnaa Tamhane and Susanne Titz, specifically chose works with longevity, that are concerned with a specific pe-

riod in modern history, but which also reflect contemporary events. On display in Mumbai until 10 April, the exhibition was first mounted in 2013, at the Museum Abteiberg in Mönchengladbach, Germany. Titz is the director of that museum, which was established in 1904 and is well known for its pop art and Nouveau réalisme collections. She was introduced to Tamhane by the artist Jitish Kallat, who thought she would be interested in Tamhane’s PhD research into the politically charged and formally challenging work of the late artist Rummana Hussain. “Susanne and I immediately started talking,” Tamhane told me when we met recently at the Max Mueller Bhavan. “She mentioned Astrid Klein and this generation of women artists who were working in

rummana hussain’s installation, “a space for healing,” was made in 1999, shortly before the artist died of cancer.

the eighties. I mentioned, along with Rummana Hussain, Angela Grauerholz and Rosemarie Trockel.” The two curators found that they were looking at female artists born in the early 1950s who, Tamhane said, “started working after the Second Wave of feminism— they weren’t doing any rah-rah feminist thing and were working in a very different way.” Even though no themes united these artists initially, Tamhane said specific works immediately sprang to mind that seemed to loosely converse with each other. For instance, the Canadian artist Angela Grauerholz and the German artist Astrid Klein both employed blackand-white images and newsprint, and used contemporary events to hark back to the past. Tamhane and Titz zeroed down on the deceptively simple curatorial strategy of selecting artists born between 1948 and 1958—the first generation, they wrote in the exhibition catalogue, “to experience a global identity.” This rather free-flowing approach comes together surprisingly well. With a large corpus of over 40 works, some of which are series with multiple pieces, this is one of the largest international exhibitions of women artists ever mounted in India. Through its breadth, it avoids the trap of making its contributors simply ciphers of the national or regional conditions of their sex. The selection of artists who are united by gender and a historical moment, but who span several nationalities and ethnicities, is liberating; it allows the women to become interpreters of history rather than its by-products. The feminist lens through which they do this is implicit, and often layered with other concerns—language politics, religious beliefs, personal identity, geographic location. The connections between the works are discernible,

paraphernalia, such as bottles, syringes and tubes. The walls bear what resemble Nastaliq letters, fashioned out of rusted tools—scythes, scalpels, tongs, tweezers—but on closer inspection (and a knowledge of the script) don’t add up to intelligible words. A sound system plays a layered incantation: a mix of Mumbai street noises and the metronomic rhythm of the azan. However, what sounds like a call to prayer is really a voice saying, in English, “Put the needle into your vein.” Hussain appears to have employed the title “A Space for Healing” satirically. The art historian Geeta Kapur wrote in the exhibition’s brochure that the piece “offers to put to rest the urban nightmare,” but the overall effect of being inside the room, with its macabre reminders of death, and its harsh light and sound design, is anything but restful. Neither medical science nor religious faith truly offer recuperation from the city. In Hussain’s installation, mortality is the final constraint on—or perhaps the absolute release from?—the absent body. A running theme in many of the other works in In Order to Join, however, is that the female body in particular endures dozens of restrictions throughout life, as women constantly struggle to retain autonomy and control over their physical being. Where Hussain’s work is subtle and nuanced in its attempts to construct a feminist Muslim identity, the Pakistani activist-artist Lala Rukh gestures at the difficulty of that endeavour. Lala Rukh co-founded the Women’s Action Forum, or WAF, in Karachi in September 1981. The organisation railed against General Muhammad Zia-ul-Haq’s dictatorial imposition of the Hudood Ordinance. Under this law, zina, or adultery—not

yet the curators mostly just suggest tenuous links, leaving viewers to discover common ground on their own. In Order to Join takes its title from Hussain’s 1998 exhibition at the Art in General gallery in New York, and the artist’s work is the cornerstone of the present exhibition. Hussain was largely a figurative painter until the 1990s. After the destruction of the Babri Masjid in Ayodhya, though, she took a turn towards the conceptual. She was also involved with the explicitly political and performance-oriented Safdar Hashmi Memorial Trust. Like Hatoum, Hussain was preoccupied with mortality, and the connections between the ailing or battered body and the diseased body politic. Hussain was born in Bangalore, and

lived in Mumbai until her tragically early death, from cancer, in 1999. Her work, specifically her performances, explored religious and personal identity, often imparting slightly off-kilter takeaways. In her notable 1998 performance “Is it what you think?”, Hussain sat on a stool at the Kaskadenkondensator gallery in Basel while slides of self-portraits of her wearing a chador were projected onto her body. This performance is not part of In Order to Join, but the exhibition does feature a poster that accompanied it. On the poster are a series of questions that betray certain assumptions that are commonly made when projecting meaning onto a female figure’s appearance. “Where does she belong? Is she behind a veil? Have you defined her?,” it begins. The questions range from the

“Where does she belong? Is she behind a veil? Have you defined her?Do you pity her? Is that your construct? Is that a predicament?” droll—“Do you think she believes in the Jihad? Did you read it in today’s newspaper?” —to the earnest—“Are her beliefs an escape? Or a security? Or a habit? Or a choice?”—to the challenging—“Do you pity her? Is that your construct? Is that a predicament?” The body is absent but implied in “A Space for Healing,” a complex installation by Hussain that is the centrepiece of In Order to Join. Far less confrontational in tone than “Is it what you think?”, this 1999 installation, which is at the Max Mueller Bhavan, was Hussain’s last. Shortly before her death, it

was sent to the Asia-Pacific Triennial of Contemporary Art in Brisbane, where a young Shilpa Gupta—now one of India’s best-known installation artists, who was then documenting Hussain’s work—put it up on its creator’s behalf. This is the first time the artwork is being shown in India, after a gap of nearly 16 years. “A Space for Healing” is contained within a room that is bathed in red light and looks like a cross between a mosque and a hospital. A set of kitschy gold paisley-print stretchers are laid out like prayer rugs, arranged with medical

distinguished from rape—became a punishable crime, leading to the severe persecution of women who had been raped and required four male eyewitnesses to prove their “innocence.” The WAF reacted by plastering the city with a poster that reads “Ek aurat, ek gawahi” (One woman, one testimony)— that poster is used on the invitation card for In Order to Join. Another example of such “mass” art, shorn of the triviality often associated with it, is Rukh’s 1983 “Crimes against Women,” a composite of 18 offset-printed posters. These consist of a collage of news clippings about violence against women. The headlines, gleaned from newspapers such as The Muslim, Dawn and The Daily Jang, include “Worker stabs ex-wife,” and “Zina: RI [Rigorous Imprisonment,] lashes to woman.” One particularly eerie report quotes eyewitnesses who saw a fleeing woman “done to death” by her brother; its ominousness is underscored by the lack of detail on the actual cause of death, implying an embarrassed elision of the female body altogether. Rukh’s posters blur the supposed opposition between the public sphere as the arena of violence and the domestic one as a place of refuge. The most common response to the perceived danger women face on city streets, for example, is to impose curfews and restrict women’s movement. This confinement and curtailing of women’s autonomy, however, is itself an act of violence. The domestic sphere reappears, with a great deal of levity, in the work of the British artist Helen Chadwick. In her 1976 piece “Bargain Basement Bonzana”, a 16-minute segment from a longer video series called Domestic Sanitation, a burlesque household scene plays out. The performers are dressed in uncomfortable latex costumes made to look like comical, inflated bodies—Barbie proportions on one woman, layers of fat and an exaggerated bush on another. They clean, lounge, read the newspaper and listen to the radio. There is some play with what appears to be a BDSM sling. The costumes, music and performance call to mind an unwholesome pornographic film with low production values. Chadwick’s comment on the severe circumscribing of female bodies, whether in the home or in the porn in-

dustry—is unmistakable. The idea of curtailed bodies reaches its apogee in Rosemarie Trockel’s 2010 installation “Spiral Betty,” which uses neon lights on a wall to approximate a T-shaped intrauterine contraceptive device. Trockel has played with this concept for years—the cover of a book draft from 1988, one of a series featured in the exhibition, has a picture of the device on it. According to Titz, some women who saw the exhibition in Germany remembered that the contraceptive “hurt like hell.” “Women who were coming to the show said, ‘This was a mess,’” she told me. “It had become something that would liberate you, but also cause you pain.” “Spiral Betty” also includes an inside joke: its large scale mocks the monumental works produced by the almost entirely male clique of “land artists,” who landscaped nature to create their pieces. The title is a direct parody of “Spiral Jetty” Robert Smithson’s “earthwork” at Utah’s Great Salt Lake, constructed in the 1970s. Land Art and monumental scales return, in differing forms, in the works of Astrid Klein and the Mexican artist Ana Mendieta. Much of Klein’s work consists of photography, and she reacted to the largely male tendency to work with oversize objects by occupying large spaces herself. For example, in her large-format photo collages from the Broken Heart series, created in the early 1980s, the artist overlaid mass-media, sexualised images of actresses such as Brigitte Bardot with text from the German novelist Arno Schmidt’s weighty 1971 volume Zettels Traum. Another example of the way Klein manipulates scale is her work with mirrors, which first appeared in 1993 with a set of 18 reflective panels shot through with a 9 mm gun. Five of these are on display at the exhibition, forming spidery arrangements that warp reflections in ways reminiscent of a hall of mirrors. The work is a grim reminder of the far-left militancy and attacks by the Red Army Faction that affected Germany in the early 1970s, when Klein was pursuing her fine arts degree in Cologne. Mendieta employs the tropes of Land Art in her silueta—silhouette—vide-

os, produced in the early 1970s. Shot in the open, these focus on Mendieta’s “earth-body” sculptures, based on a scale model of her own body and fashioned outdoors out of sand, grass and rocks. These primeval forms are then subjected to the elements—fire in one, flowing water in another—suggesting the artist’s connection with the earth. The 1975 installation “Alma, Silueta en Fuego” (Soul, Silhouette on Fire) shows a figure that resembles a corpse, which is set on fire, while the 1981 “Birth” has one gently exploded by gunpowder—a reference to a Cuban belief in the material’s healing power. It is impossible to completely break down the works of some of the international artists without a close reading of their contexts and the references their creators were drawing upon. Despite the time-lag, however, all the works bear a sense of immediacy—or, seen a different way, timelessness. Neither the issues the artists were confronting, nor their experiences as female subjects and chroniclers of their moment, seem to have varied much through the decades that separate them from the contemporary viewer. The exhibits at the Max Mueller Bhavan are more loosely linked than those on display at the CSMVS, which are arranged according to two schemes: the ground floor is devoted to performances and videos that examines the body in conjunction with its natural and political environment, while the first floor has text-based works that link the personal and the political. The natural history, numismatics and miniature painting galleries at the CSMVS, accomodated in the main gallery structure, draw hundreds of visitors every day; but the travelling exhibitions hosted here are typically mounted in separate, dedicated galleries. This time, though, the curators decided to place some works in the vitrines in a first-floor rotunda, where parts of the permanent historic collections are housed—a first for the CSMVS, Tamhane told me. “We were really keen to have as many people as possible view them,” she said. The rotunda hosts the work of Trockel, the Indian artist Sheela Gowda, and Grauerholz. Broadly, all three artists employ texts as images. Each of them

rummana hussain’s installation, “a space for healing,” was made in 1999, shortly before the artist died of cancer.

brings historical loss—on a national, civilisational or grand cultural scale— down to a comprehensible level. Grauerholz marks her presence with two quietly devastating photo series. The first, “Privation,” from 2001, is a set of scanned images of burnt books from Grauerholz’s personal library, which she lost in a fire. Even though the images are two-dimensional, the frayed, charred state of the pages they show imbues them with a sculptural quality. In this case, private grief acquires a political tint when Grauerholz draws a parallel between the damage to her collection and the mass destruction of books and libraries to annihilate a people’s history. In an accompanying statement, she cites Carsten Frederiksen, the deputy director of the Library Federation in Copenhagen, who was involved in a UNESCO-supported initiative to rebuild libraries in Kosovo after the war between Serbian forces and Kosovar Albanian separatists in 1998 and 1999: all ethnic Albanian material in Kosovo were removed from the libraries or fired or sacked about 10 years ago… no new books in the Albanian language have been acquired since 1991. And in this sense you might speak of ethnic cleansing in the libraries. A sense of bereavement also abides in

‫ن‬

ART REVIEW

Taking A Part ‘in order to join’ allows women to become interpreters of history

karanjeet kaur The two curators found that they were looking at female artists born in the early 1950s who, started working after the Second Wave of feminism—they weren’t doing any rah-rah feminist thing and were working in a very different way.

A video documenting “The Negotiating Table,” Mona Hatoum’s landmark performance piece, opens on a breathing, bloodied mass of what looks like flesh, pulsing under a layer of plastic. Over 20 minutes, the camera slowly zooms out to reveal the Palestinian artist’s body, constrained by surgical gauze, foil and cling film. Hatoum’s original performance was accompanied by snippets of politicians’ speeches promising to bring peace to the Middle East. The video’s grainy quality and glacial pan heighten an intense sense of foreboding: Is the performer alive or dead? Is that bulbous red mess her entrails? I might have pegged the piece as a comment on recent events in West Asia, until I checked the label accompanying the video at In Order to Join: The Political in a Historical Moment—a hefty exhibition currently on show in Mumbai. The video was dated 5 December 1983, and Hatoum was likely reacting to the 1982 invasion of Lebanon, her adoptive country, by Israeli forces; and to the civil war that had started there nearly seven years earlier. Still the contemporaneousness of her work is uncanny. This is true of most exhibits at In Order to Join, which brings together pieces by 14 women from various countries to Mumbai’s Max Mueller Bhavan and Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Vastu Sangrahalaya, or CSMVS—two venues separated by a five-minute walk. The curators, Swapnaa Tamhane and Susanne Titz, specifically chose works with longevity, that are concerned with a specific period in modern history, but which also reflect contemporary events. On display in Mumbai until 10 April, the exhibition was first mounted in 2013, at the Museum Abteiberg in Mönchengladbach, Germany. Titz is the director of that museum, which was established in 1904 and is well known for its pop art and Nouveau réalisme collections. She was introduced to Tamhane by the artist Jitish Kallat, who thought she would be interested in Tamhane’s PhD research into the politically charged and formally challenging work of the late artist Rummana Hussain. “Susanne and I immediately started talking,” Tamhane told me when we met recently at the Max Mueller Bhavan. “She mentioned Astrid Klein and this generation of women artists who were working in the eighties. I mentioned, along with Rummana Hussain, Angela Grauerholz and Rosemarie Trockel.” The two curators found that they were looking at female artists born in the early 1950s who, Tamhane said, “started working after the Second Wave of feminism—they weren’t doing any

rah-rah feminist thing and were working in a very different way.” Even though no themes united these artists initially, Tamhane said specific works immediately sprang to mind that seemed to loosely converse with each other. For instance, the Canadian artist Angela Grauerholz and the German artist Astrid Klein both employed black-and-white images and newsprint, and used contemporary events to hark back to the past. Tamhane and Titz zeroed down on the deceptively simple curatorial strategy of selecting artists born between 1948 and 1958—the first generation, they wrote in the exhibition catalogue, “to experience a global identity.” This rather free-flowing approach comes together surprisingly well. With a large corpus of over 40 works, some of which are series with multiple pieces, this is one of the largest international exhibitions of women artists ever mounted in India. Through its breadth, it avoids the trap of making its contributors simply ciphers of the national or regional conditions of their sex. The selection of artists who are united by gender and a historical moment, but who span several nationalities and ethnicities, is liberating; it allows the women to become interpreters of history rather than its by-products. The feminist lens through which they do this is implicit, and often layered with other concerns—language politics, religious beliefs, personal identity, geographic location. The connections between the works are discernible, yet the curators mostly just suggest tenuous links, leaving viewers to discover common ground on their own. In Order to Join takes its title from Hussain’s 1998 exhibition at the Art in General gallery in New York, and the artist’s work is the cornerstone of the present exhibition. Hussain was largely a figurative painter until the 1990s. After the destruction of the Babri Masjid in Ayodhya, though, she took a turn towards the conceptual. She was also involved with the explicitly political and performance-oriented Safdar Hashmi Memorial Trust. Like Hatoum, Hussain was preoccupied with mortality,

On display in Mumbai until 10 April, the exhibition was first mounted in 2013, at the Museum Abteiberg in Mönchengladbach, Germany.

and the connections between the ailing or battered body and the diseased body politic. Hussain was born in Bangalore, and lived in Mumbai until her tragically early death, from cancer, in 1999. Her work, specifically her performances, explored religious and personal identity, often imparting slightly off-kilter takeaways. In her notable 1998 performance “Is it what you think?”, Hussain sat on a stool at the Kaskadenkondensator gallery in Basel while slides of self-portraits of her wearing a chador were projected onto her body. This performance is not part of In Order to Join, but the exhibition does feature a poster that accompanied it. On the poster are a series of questions that betray certain assumptions that are commonly made when projecting meaning onto a female figure’s appearance. “Where does she belong? Is she behind a veil? Have you defined her?,” it begins. The questions range from the droll—“Do you think she believes in the Jihad? Did you read it in today’s newspaper?” —to the earnest—“Are her beliefs an escape? Or a security? Or a habit? Or a choice?”— to the challenging—“Do you pity her? Is that your construct? Is that a predicament?” The body is absent but implied in “A Space for Healing,” a complex installation by Hussain that is the centrepiece of In Order to Join. Far less confrontational in tone than “Is it what you think?”, this 1999 installation, which is at the Max Mueller Bhavan, was Hussain’s last. Shortly before her death, it was sent to the Asia-Pacific Triennial of Contemporary Art in Brisbane, where a young Shilpa Gupta—now one of India’s best-known installation artists, who was then documenting Hussain’s work—put it up on its creator’s behalf. This is the first time the artwork is being shown in India, after a gap of nearly 16 years. “A Space for Healing” is contained within a room that is bathed in red light and looks like a cross between a mosque and a hospital. A set of kitschy gold paisley-print stretchers are laid out like prayer rugs, arranged with medical paraphernalia, such as bottles, syringes and tubes. The walls bear what resemble Nastaliq letters, fashioned out of rusted tools—scythes, scalpels, tongs, tweezers—but on closer inspection (and a knowledge of the script) don’t add up to intelligible words. A sound system

plays a layered incantation: a mix of Mumbai street noises and the metronomic rhythm of the azan. However, what sounds like a call to prayer is really a voice saying, in English, “Put the needle into your vein.” Hussain appears to have employed the title “A Space for Healing” satirically. The art historian Geeta Kapur wrote in the exhibition’s brochure that the piece “offers to put to rest the urban nightmare,” but the overall effect of being inside the room, with its macabre reminders of death, and its harsh light and sound design, is anything but restful. Neither medical science nor religious faith truly offer recuperation from the city. In Hussain’s installation, mortality is the final constraint on—or perhaps the absolute release from?—the absent body. A running theme in many of the other works in In Order to Join, however, is that the female body in particular endures dozens of restrictions throughout life, as women constantly struggle to retain autonomy and control over their physical being. Where Hussain’s work is subtle and nuanced in its attempts to construct a feminist Muslim identity, the Pakistani activist-artist Lala Rukh gestures at the difficulty of that endeavour. Lala Rukh cofounded the Women’s Action Forum, or WAF, in Karachi in September 1981. The organisation railed against General Muhammad Zia-ul-Haq’s dictatorial imposition of the Hudood Ordinance. Under this law, zina, or adultery—not distinguished from rape—became a punishable crime, leading to the severe persecution of women who had been raped and required four male eyewitnesses to prove their “innocence.” The WAF reacted by plastering the city with a poster that reads “Ek aurat, ek gawahi” (One woman, one testimony)—that poster is used on the invitation card for In Order to Join. Another example of such “mass” art, shorn of the triviality often associated with it, is Rukh’s 1983 “Crimes against Women,” a composite of 18 offset-printed posters. These consist of a collage of news clippings about violence against women. The headlines, gleaned from newspapers such as The Muslim, Dawn and The Daily Jang, include “Worker stabs ex-wife,” and “Zina: RI [Rigorous Imprisonment,] lashes to woman.” One particularly

eerie report quotes eyewitnesses who saw a fleeing woman “done to death” by her brother; its ominousness is underscored by the lack of detail on the actual cause of death, implying an embarrassed elision of the female body altogether. Rukh’s posters blur the supposed opposition between the public sphere as the arena of violence and the domestic one as a place of refuge. The most common response to the perceived danger women face on city streets, for example, is to impose curfews and restrict women’s movement. This confinement and curtailing of women’s autonomy, however, is itself an act of violence. The domestic sphere reappears, with a great deal of levity, in the work of the British artist Helen Chadwick. In her 1976 piece “Bargain Basement Bonzana”, a 16-minute segment from a longer video series called Domestic Sanitation, a burlesque household scene plays out. The performers are dressed in uncomfortable latex costumes made to look like comical, inflated bodies—Barbie proportions on one woman, layers of fat and an exaggerated bush on another. They clean, lounge, read the newspaper and listen to the radio. There is some play with what appears to be a BDSM sling. The costumes, music and performance call to mind an unwholesome pornographic film with low production values. Chadwick’s comment on the severe circumscribing of female bodies, whether in the home or in the porn industry—is unmistakable. The idea of curtailed bodies reaches its apogee in Rosemarie Trockel’s 2010 installation “Spiral Betty,” which uses neon lights on a wall to approximate a T-shaped intrauterine contraceptive device. Trockel has played with this concept for years—the cover of a book draft from 1988, one of a series featured in the exhibition, has a picture of the device on it. According to Titz, some women who saw the exhibition in Germany remembered that the contraceptive “hurt like hell.” “Women who were coming to the show said, ‘This was a mess,’” she told me. “It had become something that would liberate you, but also cause you pain.” “Spiral Betty” also includes an inside joke: its large scale mocks the monumental works produced by the almost entirely male clique of “land artists,” who landscaped nature to create their pieces. The

Grauerholz’s 1999 “Schriftbilder”, literally “typeface,” a series of gelatin prints of lost or dying scripts displayed on the walls of the rotunda. These include ancient scripts, including Babylonian and Egyptian hieroglyphs; obscure ones such as Estranghelo (an early form of the Syriac alphabet) and Lontara (used in several languages spoken by tribes in Sulawesi, Indonesia); and some truly inexplicable choices, like Devanagari and the Tibetan script. (The last two aren’t extinct by any measure, but Grauerholz is perhaps auguring a dismal fate for them in an increasingly linguistically flattened world.) Created two years prior to “Privation”, “Schriftbilder” almost seems to presage Grauerholz’s later work. No translations accompany the prints and the viewers’ inability to understand the printed words mirrors the very real incomprehensibility of the script, turning meaningful symbols into impenetrable images. These dead scripts share wall space with dire news. Sheela Gowda’s 2008 “Best Cutting” is a digital collage of newsprint from the fictional Chronic Chronicle, which bears the outlines of trouser and tunic patterns, of the kind used by tailors. The newspaper impersonates an actual one, but the carefully contrasting newsclips in it are, terrifyingly, true stories. Photographs of garlanded politicians, including LK Advani, are juxtaposed with news about

Spiral Betty rummana hussain’s installation, “a space for healing,” was made in 1999, shortly before the artist died of cancer.

A red ‫—ن‬signifying “Nazarene,” a derogatory term for Christians—was used by Islamic State fighters to mark the homes of the besieged community in Mosul. title is a direct parody of “Spiral Jetty” Robert Smithson’s “earthwork” at Utah’s Great Salt Lake, constructed in the 1970s. Land Art and monumental scales return, in differing forms, in the works of Astrid Klein and the Mexican artist Ana Mendieta. Much of Klein’s work consists of photography, and she reacted to the largely male tendency to work with oversize objects by occupying large spaces herself. For example, in her large-format photo collages from the Broken Heart series, created in the early 1980s, the artist overlaid mass-media, sexualised images of actresses such as Brigitte Bardot with text from the German novelist Arno Schmidt’s weighty 1971 volume Zettels Traum. Another example of the way Klein manipulates scale is her work with mirrors, which first appeared in 1993 with a set of 18 reflective panels shot through with a 9 mm gun. Five of these are on display at the exhibition, forming spidery arrangements that warp reflections in ways reminiscent of a hall of mirrors. The work is a grim reminder of

the far-left militancy and attacks by the Red Army Faction that affected Germany in the early 1970s, when Klein was pursuing her fine arts degree in Cologne. Mendieta employs the tropes of Land Art in her silueta—silhouette—videos, produced in the early 1970s. Shot in the open, these focus on Mendieta’s “earth-body” sculptures, based on a scale model of her own body and fashioned outdoors out of sand, grass and rocks. These primeval forms are then subjected to the elements—fire in one, flowing water in another—suggesting the artist’s connection with the earth. The 1975 installation “Alma, Silueta en Fuego” (Soul, Silhouette on Fire) shows a figure that resembles a corpse, which is set on fire, while the 1981 “Birth” has one gently exploded by gunpowder—a reference to a Cuban belief in the material’s healing power. It is impossible to completely break down the works of some of the international artists without a close reading of their contexts and the references their creators were drawing upon. Despite the time-lag, however, all the works bear a sense of immediacy—or, seen a different way, timelessness. Neither the issues the artists were confronting, nor their experiences as female subjects and chroniclers of their moment, seem to have varied much through the decades that separate them from the contemporary viewer. The exhibits at the Max Mueller Bhavan are more loosely linked than those on display at the CSMVS, which are arranged according to two schemes: the ground floor is devoted to performances and videos that examines the body in conjunction with its natural and political environment, while the first floor has text-based works that link the personal and the political. The natural history, numismatics and miniature painting galleries at the CSMVS, accomodated in the main gallery structure, draw hundreds of visitors every day; but the travelling exhibitions hosted here are typically mounted in separate, dedicated galleries. This time, though, the curators decided to place some works in the vitrines in a first-floor rotunda, where parts of the permanent historic collections are housed—a first for the CSMVS, Tamhane told

me. “We were really keen to have as many people as possible view them,” she said. The rotunda hosts the work of Trockel, the Indian artist Sheela Gowda, and Grauerholz. Broadly, all three artists employ texts as images. Each of them brings historical loss—on a national, civilisational or grand cultural scale—down to a comprehensible level. Grauerholz marks her presence with two quietly devastating photo series. The first, “Privation,” from 2001, is a set of scanned images of burnt books from Grauerholz’s personal library, which she lost in a fire. Even though the images are two-dimensional, the frayed, charred state of the pages they show imbues them with a sculptural quality. In this case, private grief acquires a political tint when Grauerholz draws a parallel between the damage to her collection and the mass destruction of books and libraries to annihilate a people’s history. In an accompanying statement, she cites Carsten Frederiksen, the deputy director of the Library Federation in Copenhagen, who was involved in a UNESCO-supported initiative to rebuild libraries in Kosovo after the war between Serbian forces and Kosovar Albanian separatists in 1998 and 1999: all ethnic Albanian material in Kosovo were removed from the libraries or fired or sacked about 10 years ago… no new books in the Albanian language have been acquired since 1991. And in this sense you might speak of ethnic cleansing in the libraries. A sense of bereavement also abides in Grauerholz’s 1999 “Schriftbilder”, literally “typeface,” a series of gelatin prints of lost or dying scripts displayed on the walls of the rotunda. These include ancient scripts, including Babylonian and Egyptian hieroglyphs; obscure ones such as Estranghelo (an early form of the Syriac alphabet) and Lontara (used in several languages spoken by tribes in Sulawesi, Indonesia); and some truly inexplicable choices, like Devanagari and the Tibetan script. (The last two aren’t extinct by any measure, but Grauerholz is perhaps auguring a

the Ayodhya verdict and a food article urging readers to “Try a glass of ‘karela.’” A think piece entitled “Indians in the world: how we see ourselves” appears next to an article about the Bangladeshi novelist Taslima Nasreen’s withdrawal of “objectionable material” from public circulation. Other pieces bring out the bizarreness of the Indian polity—wedged next to a report on Zaheera Sheikh’s sentencing for perjury in the Best Bakery case is a tiny column advertising “Quality mushrooms.” Gowda’s political intentions draw both gravity and flippancy from her gallows humour. The collages echo the concept of text as an object, but that idea is more fully realised in Jamelie Hassan’s neon installation “‫”ن‬, displayed at the Max Mueller Bhavan. The title, pronounced “noon,” uses the fourteenth letter of the Arabic alphabet, which has conflicting connotations: It has no ascribable meaning, yet is considered a mysterious or device letter in the Quran. Owing to its vessel-like shape, Sufi poets such as Rumi regarded it a symbol of the inkpot. When Hassan first created the piece, in 2009, she was interested in the character’s “mathematical aesthetic.” Over the last year, however, the letter has achieved astonishing resonance in another part of the world. A red ‫—ن‬signifying “Nazarene,” a derogatory term for Christians—was used by Islamic State fighters to mark the homes of the besieged community in Mosul. The letter gained even greater currency in August 2014, when Facebook and Twitter users began to use it as a profile picture to express solidarity with Iraqi Christians. In some ways, bringing together these diverse artists from a variety of nationalities and ethnicities is itself an act of solidarity. Some feminist theorists dis-

dismal fate for them in an increasingly linguistically flattened world.) Created two years prior to “Privation”, “Schriftbilder” almost seems to presage Grauerholz’s later work. No translations accompany the prints and the viewers’ inability to understand the printed words mirrors the very real incomprehensibility of the script, turning meaningful symbols into impenetrable images. These dead scripts share wall space with dire news. Sheela Gowda’s 2008 “Best Cutting” is a digital collage of newsprint from the fictional Chronic Chronicle, which bears the outlines of trouser and tunic patterns, of the kind used by tailors. The newspaper impersonates an actual one, but the carefully contrasting newsclips in it are, terrifyingly, true stories. Photographs of garlanded politicians, including LK Advani, are juxtaposed with news about the Ayodhya verdict and a food article urging readers to “Try a glass of ‘karela.’” A think piece entitled “Indians in the world: how we see ourselves” appears next to an article about the Bangladeshi novelist Taslima Nasreen’s withdrawal of “objectionable material” from public circulation. Other pieces bring out the bizarreness of the Indian polity—wedged next to a report on Zaheera Sheikh’s sentencing for perjury in the Best Bakery case is a tiny column advertising “Quality mushrooms.” Gowda’s political intentions draw both gravity and flippancy from her gallows humour. The collages echo the concept of text as an object, but that idea is more fully realised in Jamelie Hassan’s neon installation “‫”ن‬, displayed at the Max Mueller Bhavan. The title, pronounced “noon,” uses the fourteenth letter of the Arabic alphabet, which has conflicting connotations: It has no ascribable meaning, yet is considered a mysterious or device letter in the Quran. Owing to its vessel-like shape, Sufi poets such as Rumi regarded it a symbol of the inkpot. When Hassan first created the piece, in 2009, she was interested in the character’s “mathematical aesthetic.” Over the last year, however, the letter has achieved astonishing resonance in another part of the world. A red ‫—ن‬signifying “Nazarene,” a derogatory term for Christians—was used by Islamic State fighters to mark the homes of the besieged community

Approach #1 This design focuses mainly on element hierarchy and easy, unambiguous navigation. By using a hairline rule to dive space, it effectively achieves an uncluttered visual structure. Approach #2 With this approach I tried to push for a more radical use of the grid. The design uses a lot of negative space as well as a variable column width within the same spread.

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

154 ART REVIEW

ART REVIEW 1982 invasion of Lebanon, her adoptive country, by Israeli forces; and to the civil war that had started there nearly seven years earlier. Still the contemporaneousness of her work is uncanny. This is true of most exhibits at In Order to Join, which brings together pieces by 14 women from various countries to Mumbai’s Max Mueller Bhavan and Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Vastu Sangrahalaya, or CSMVS—two venues separated by a five-minute walk. The curators, Swapnaa Tamhane and Susanne Titz, specifically chose works with longevity, that are concerned with a specific period in modern history, but which also reflect contemporary events. On display in Mumbai until 10 April, the exhibition was first mounted in 2013, at the Museum Abteiberg in Mönchengladbach, Germany. Titz is the director of that museum, which was established in 1904 and is well known for its pop art and Nouveau réalisme collections. She was introduced to Tamhane by the

ART REVIEW TAKING A PART

‘In Order to Join’ allows women to become interpreters of history. On display in Mumbai until 10 April, the exhibition was first mounted in 2013, at the Museum Abteiberg in Mönchengladbach, Germany.

artist Jitish Kallat, who thought she would be interested in Tamhane’s PhD research into the politically charged and formally challenging work of the late artist Rummana Hussain. “Susanne and I immediately started talking,” Tamhane told me when we met recently at the Max Mueller Bhavan. “She mentioned Astrid Klein and this generation of women artists who were working in the eighties. I mentioned, along with Rummana Hussain, Angela Grauerholz and Rosemarie Trockel.” The two curators found that they were looking at female artists born in the early 1950s who, Tamhane said, “started working after the Second Wave of feminism— they weren’t doing any rah-rah feminist thing and were working in a very different way.” Even though no themes united these artists initially, Tamhane said specific works immediately sprang to mind that seemed to loosely converse with each other. For instance, the Canadian art-

video documenting “The Negotiating Table,” Mona Hatoum’s landmark performance piece, opens on a breathing, bloodied mass of what looks like flesh, pulsing under a layer of plastic. Over 20 minutes, the camera slowly zooms out to reveal the Palestinian artist’s body, constrained by surgical gauze, foil and cling film. Hatoum’s original performance was accompanied by snippets of politicians’ speeches promising to bring peace to the Middle East. The video’s grainy quality and glacial pan heighten an intense sense of foreboding: Is the performer alive or dead? Is that bulbous red mess her entrails? I might have pegged the piece as a comment on recent events in West Asia, until I checked the label accompanying the video at In Order to Join: The Political in a Historical Moment—a hefty exhibition currently on show in Mumbai. The video was dated 5 December 1983, and Hatoum was likely reacting to the 1982 invasion of Lebanon, her adoptive country, by Israeli forces; and to the civil war that had started there nearly seven years earlier. Still the contemporaneousness of her work is uncanny. This is true of most exhibits at In Order to Join, which brings together pieces by 14 women from various countries to Mumbai’s Max Mueller Bhavan and Chhatra-

TEXT KARANJEET KAUR

Taking A Part ‘in order to join’ allows women to become interpreters of history

ist Angela Grauerholz and the German artist Astrid Klein both employed blackand-white images and newsprint, and used contemporary events to hark back to the past. Tamhane and Titz zeroed down on the deceptively simple curatorial strategy of selecting artists born between 1948 and 1958—the first generation, they wrote in the exhibition catalogue, “to experience a global identity.”

This rather free-flowing approach comes together surprisingly well. With a large corpus of over 40 works, some of which are series with multiple pieces, this is one of the largest international exhibitions of women artists ever mounted in India. Through its breadth, it avoids the trap of making its contributors simply ciphers of the national or regional conditions of their sex. The selection of

NAME Image description goes here

Approach #3 In this design, we proposed the use of a change in paper colour for the entire review section. The aim was to bring about a visual variation between sections based on paper used. Approach #4 This design uses a narrow column throughout the section for entry points such as photo captions, pull quotes, author biographies etc.

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

The Process

artists who are united by gender and a historical moment, but who span several nationalities and ethnicities, is liberating; it allows the women to become interpreters of history rather than its by-products. The feminist lens through which they do this is implicit, and often layered with other concerns—language politics, religious beliefs, personal identity, geographic location. The connec

pati Shivaji Maharaj Vastu Sangrahalaya, or CSMVS—two venues separated by a five-minute walk. The curators, Swapnaa Tamhane and Susanne Titz, specifically chose works with longevity, that are concerned with a specific period in modern history, but which also reflect contemporary events. On display in Mumbai until 10 April, the exhibition was first mounted in 2013, at the Museum Abteiberg in Mönchengladbach, Germany. Titz is the director of that museum, which was established in 1904 and is well known for its pop art and Nouveau réalisme collections. She was introduced to Tamhane by the artist Jitish Kallat, who thought she would be interested in Tamhane’s PhD research into the politically charged and formally challenging work of the late artist Rummana Hussain. “Susanne and I immediately started talking,” Tamhane told me when we met recently at the Max Mueller Bhavan. “She mentioned Astrid Klein and this generation of women artists who were working in the eighties. I mentioned, along with Rummana Hussain, Angela Grauerholz and Rosemarie Trockel.” The two curators found that they were looking at female artists born in the early 1950s who, Tamhane said, “started working after the Second Wave of feminism— they weren’t doing any rah-rah feminist thing and were working in a very different way.” Even though no themes united these artists initially, Tamhane said specific works immediately sprang to mind that seemed to loosely converse with each other. For instance, the Canadian artist Angela Grauerholz and the German artist Astrid Klein both employed blackand-white images and newsprint, and used contemporary events to hark back to the past. Tamhane and Titz zeroed down on the deceptively simple curatorial strategy of selecting artists born between 1948 and 1958—the first generation, they wrote in the exhibition catalogue, “to experience a global identity.” This rather free-flowing approach comes together surprisingly well. With a large corpus of over 40 works, some of which are series with multiple pieces, this is one of the largest international exhibitions of women artists ever mounted in India. Through its breadth, it avoids the

ART REVIEW

On display in Mumbai until 10 April, the exhibition was first mounted in 2013, at the Museum Abteiberg in Mönchengladbach, Germany.

tions between the works are discernible, yet the curators mostly just suggest tenuous links, leaving viewers to discover common ground on their own. In Order to Join takes its title from Hussain’s 1998 exhibition at the Art in General gallery in New York, and the artist’s work is the cornerstone of the present exhibition. Hussain was largely a figurative painter until the 1990s. After the destruction of the Babri Masjid in Ayodhya, though, she took a turn towards the conceptual. She was also involved with the explicitly political and performance-oriented Safdar Hashmi Memorial Trust. Like Hatoum, Hussain was preoccupied with mortality, and the connections between the ailing or battered body and the diseased body politic. Hussain was born in Bangalore, and lived in Mumbai until her tragically early death, from cancer, in 1999. Her work, specifically her performances, explored religious and personal identity, often imparting slightly off-kilter takeaways. In her notable 1998 performance “Is it what you think?”, Hussain sat on a stool at the Kaskadenkondensator gallery in Basel while slides of self-portraits of her wearing a chador were projected onto her body. This performance is not part of In Order to Join, but the exhibition does feature a poster that accompanied it. On the poster are a series of questions that betray certain assumptions that are commonly made when projecting meaning onto a female figure’s appearance. “Where does she belong? Is she behind a veil? Have you defined her?,” it begins. The questions range from the droll—“Do you think she believes in the Jihad? Did you read it in today’s newspaper?” —to the earnest—“Are her beliefs an escape? Or a security? Or a habit? Or a choice?”—to the challenging—“Do you pity her? Is that your construct? Is that a predicament?” The body is absent but implied in “A

Space for Healing,” a complex installation by Hussain that is the centrepiece of In Order to Join. Far less confrontational in tone than “Is it what you think?”, this 1999 installation, which is at the Max Mueller Bhavan, was Hussain’s last. Shortly before her death, it was sent to the Asia-Pacific Triennial of Contemporary Art in Brisbane, where a young Shilpa Gupta—now one of India’s best-known installation artists, who was then documenting Hussain’s work—put it up on its creator’s behalf. This is the first time the artwork is being shown in India, after a gap of nearly 16 years. “A Space for Healing” is contained within a room that is bathed in red light and looks like a cross between a mosque and a hospital. A set of kitschy gold paisley-print stretchers are laid out like prayer rugs, arranged with medical paraphernalia, such as bottles, syringes and tubes. The walls bear what resemble Nastaliq letters, fashioned out of rusted tools—scythes, scalpels, tongs, tweezers—but on closer inspection (and a knowledge of the script) don’t add up to intelligible words. A sound system plays a layered incantation: a mix of Mumbai street noises and the metronomic rhythm of the azan. However, what sounds like a call to prayer is really a voice saying, in English, “Put the needle into your vein.” Hussain appears to have employed the title “A Space for Healing” satirically. The art historian Geeta Kapur wrote in the exhibition’s brochure that the piece “offers to put to rest the urban nightmare,” but the overall effect of being inside the room, with its macabre reminders of death, and its harsh light and sound design, is anything but restful. Neither medical science nor religious faith truly offer recuperation from the city. In Hussain’s installation, mortality is the final constraint on—or perhaps

the absolute release from?—the absent body. A running theme in many of the other works in In Order to Join, however, is that the female body in particular endures dozens of restrictions throughout life, as women constantly struggle to retain autonomy and control over their physical being. Where Hussain’s work is subtle and nuanced in its attempts to construct a feminist Muslim identity, the Pakistani activist-artist Lala Rukh gestures at the difficulty of that endeavour. Lala Rukh co-founded the Women’s Action Forum, or WAF, in Karachi in September 1981. The organisation railed against General Muhammad Zia-ul-Haq’s dictatorial imposition of the Hudood Ordinance. Under this law, zina, or adultery—not distinguished from rape—became a punishable crime, leading to the severe persecution of women who had been raped and required four male eyewitnesses to prove their “innocence.” The WAF reacted by plastering the city with a poster that reads “Ek aurat, ek gawahi” (One woman, one testimony)— that poster is used on the invitation card for In Order to Join. Another example of such “mass” art, shorn of the triviality often associated with it, is Rukh’s 1983 “Crimes against Women,” a composite of 18 offset-printed posters. These consist of a collage of news clippings about violence against women. The headlines, gleaned from newspapers such as The Muslim, Dawn and The Daily Jang, include “Worker stabs ex-wife,” and “Zina: RI [Rigorous Imprisonment,] lashes to woman.” One particularly eerie report quotes eyewitnesses who saw a fleeing woman “done to death” by her brother; its ominousness is underscored by the lack of detail on the actual cause of death, implying an embarrassed elision of the female body altogether. Rukh’s posters blur the supposed opposition between the public sphere as the arena of violence and the domestic

“Where does she belong? Is she behind a veil? Have you defined her? Do you pity her? Is that your construct? Is that a predicament?”

one as a place of refuge. The most common response to the perceived danger women face on city streets, for example, is to impose curfews and restrict women’s movement. This confinement and curtailing of women’s autonomy, however, is itself an act of violence. The domestic sphere reappears, with a great deal of levity, in the work of the British artist Helen Chadwick. In her 1976 piece “Bargain Basement Bonzana”, a 16-minute segment from a longer video series called Domestic Sanitation, a burlesque household scene plays out. The performers are dressed in uncomfortable latex costumes made to look like comical, inflated bodies—Barbie proportions on one woman, layers of fat and an exaggerated bush on another. They clean, lounge, read the newspaper and listen to the radio. There is some play with what appears to be a BDSM sling. The costumes, music and performance call to mind an unwholesome pornographic film with low production values. Chadwick’s comment on the severe circumscribing of female bodies, whether in the home or in the porn industry—is unmistakable. The idea of curtailed bodies reaches its apogee in Rosemarie Trockel’s 2010 installation “Spiral Betty,” which uses neon lights on a wall to approximate a T-shaped intrauterine contraceptive device. Trockel has played with this concept for years—the cover of a book draft from 1988, one of a series featured in the exhibition, has a picture of the device on it. According to Titz, some women who saw the exhibition in Germany remembered that the contraceptive “hurt like hell.” “Women who were coming to the show said, ‘This was a mess,’” she told me. “It had become something that would liberate you, but also cause you pain.” “Spiral Betty” also includes an inside joke: its large scale mocks the monumental works produced by the almost entirely male clique of “land artists,” who landscaped nature to create their pieces. The title is a direct parody of “Spiral Jetty” Robert Smithson’s “earthwork” at Utah’s Great Salt Lake, constructed in the 1970s. Land Art and monumental scales return, in differing forms, in the works

NAME Image description goes here

of Astrid Klein and the Mexican artist Ana Mendieta. Much of Klein’s work consists of photography, and she reacted to the largely male tendency to work with oversize objects by occupying large spaces herself. For example, in her large-format photo collages from the Broken Heart series, created in the early 1980s, the artist overlaid mass-media, sexualised images of actresses such as Brigitte Bardot with text from the German novelist Arno Schmidt’s weighty 1971 volume Zettels Traum. Another example of the way Klein manipulates scale is her work with mirrors, which first appeared in 1993 with a set of 18 reflective panels shot through with a 9 mm gun. Five of these are on display at the exhibition, forming spidery arrangements that warp reflections in ways reminiscent of a hall of mirrors. The work is a grim reminder of the farleft militancy and attacks by the Red Army Faction that affected Germany in the early 1970s, when Klein was pursuing her fine arts degree in Cologne. Mendieta employs the tropes of Land Art in her silueta—silhouette—videos, produced in the early 1970s. Shot in the open, these focus on Mendieta’s “earth-body” sculptures, based on a scale model of her own body and fashioned outdoors out of sand, grass and rocks. These primeval forms are then subjected to the elements—fire in one, flowing water in another—suggesting the artist’s connection with the earth.

Artists Name Country Name Country Name Country Name Country Name Country

Curators

Swapnaa Tamhane Small Bio description here

trap of making its contributors simply ciphers of the national or regional conditions of their sex. The selection of artists who are united by gender and a historical moment, but who span several nationalities and ethnicities, is liberating; it allows the women to become interpreters of history rather than its by-products. The feminist lens through which they do this is implicit, and often layered with other concerns—language politics, religious beliefs, personal identity, geographic location. The connections between the works are discernible, yet the curators mostly just suggest tenuous links, leaving viewers to discover common ground on their own.

I Susanne Titz Small Bio description here

n Order to Join takes its title from Hussain’s 1998 exhibition at the Art in General gallery in New York, and the artist’s work is the cornerstone of the present exhibition. Hussain was largely a figurative painter until the 1990s. After the destruction of the Babri Masjid in Ayodhya, though, she took a turn towards the conceptual. She was also involved with the explicitly political and performance-oriented Safdar Hashmi Memorial Trust. Like Hatoum, Hussain was preoccupied with mortality, and the connections between the ailing or battered body and the diseased body politic. Hussain was born in Bangalore, and lived in Mumbai until her tragically early death, from cancer, in 1999. Her work, specifically her performances, explored religious and personal identity, often imparting slightly off-kilter takeaways. In her notable 1998 performance “Is it what you think?”, Hussain sat on a stool at the Kaskadenkondensator gallery in Basel while slides of self-portraits of her wearing a chador were projected onto her body. This performance is not part of In Order to Join, but the exhibition does feature a poster that accompanied it. On the poster are a series of questions that betray certain assumptions that are commonly made when projecting meaning onto a female figure’s appearance. “Where does she belong? Is she behind a veil? Have you defined her?,”

it begins. The questions range from the droll—“Do you think she believes in the Jihad? Did you read it in today’s newspaper?” —to the earnest—“Are her beliefs an escape? Or a security? Or a habit? Or a choice?”—to the challenging—“Do you pity her? Is that your construct? Is that a predicament?” The body is absent but implied in “A Space for Healing,” a complex installation by Hussain that is the centrepiece of In Order to Join. Far less confrontational in tone than “Is it what you think?”, this 1999 installation, which is at the Max Mueller Bhavan, was Hussain’s last. Shortly before her death, it was sent to the Asia-Pacific Triennial of Contemporary Art in Brisbane, where a young Shilpa Gupta—now one of India’s best-known installation artists, who was then documenting Hussain’s work—put it up on its creator’s behalf. This is the first time the artwork is being shown in India, after a gap of nearly 16 years. “A Space for Healing” is contained within a room that is bathed in red light and looks like a cross between a mosque and a hospital. A set of kitschy gold paisley-print stretchers are laid out like prayer rugs, arranged with medical paraphernalia, such as bottles, syringes and tubes. The walls bear what resemble Nastaliq letters, fashioned out of rusted tools—scythes, scalpels, tongs, tweezers—but on closer inspection (and a knowledge of the script) don’t add up to intelligible words. A sound system plays a layered incantation: a mix of Mumbai street noises and the metronomic rhythm of the azan. However, what sounds like a call to prayer is really a voice saying, in English, “Put the needle into your vein.” Hussain appears to have employed the title “A Space for Healing” satirically. The art historian Geeta Kapur wrote in the exhibition’s brochure that the piece “offers to put to rest the urban nightmare,” but the overall effect of being inside the room, with its macabre reminders of death, and its harsh light and sound design, is anything but restful. Neither medical science nor religious faith tru-

ly offer recuperation from the city. In Hussain’s installation, mortality is the final constraint on—or perhaps the absolute release from?—the absent body. A running theme in many of the other works in In Order to Join, however, is that the female body in particular endures dozens of restrictions throughout life, as women constantly struggle to retain autonomy and control over their physical being.

here Hussain’s work is subtle and nuanced in its attempts to construct a feminist Muslim identity, the Pakistani activist-artist Lala Rukh gestures at the difficulty of that endeavour. Lala Rukh co-founded the Women’s Action Forum, or WAF, in Karachi in September 1981. The organisation railed against General Muhammad Zia-ul-Haq’s dictatorial imposition of the Hudood Ordinance. Under this law, zina, or adultery—not distinguished from rape—became a punishable crime, leading to the severe persecution of women who had been raped and required four male eyewitnesses to prove their “innocence.” The WAF reacted by plastering the city with a poster that reads “Ek aurat, ek gawahi” (One woman, one testimony)—that poster is used on the invitation card for In Order to Join. Another example of such “mass” art, shorn of the triviality often associated with it, is Rukh’s 1983 “Crimes against Women,” a composite of 18 offset-printed posters. These consist of a collage of news clippings about violence against women. The headlines, gleaned from newspapers such as The Muslim, Dawn and The Daily Jang, include “Worker stabs ex-wife,” and “Zina: RI [Rigorous Imprisonment,] lashes to woman.” One particularly eerie report quotes eyewitnesses who saw a fleeing woman “done to death” by her brother; its ominousness is underscored by the lack of detail on the actual cause of death, implying an embarrassed elision of the female body altogether. Rukh’s posters blur the supposed opposition between the public sphere as the arena of violence

Name Country Name Country Name Country Name

and the domestic one as a place of refuge. The most common response to the perceived danger women face on city streets, for example, is to impose curfews and restrict women’s movement. This confinement and curtailing of women’s autonomy, however, is itself an act of violence. The domestic sphere reappears, with a great deal of levity, in the work of the British artist Helen Chadwick. In her 1976 piece “Bargain Basement Bonzana”, a 16-minute segment from a longer video series called Domestic Sanitation, a burlesque household scene plays out. The performers are dressed in uncomfortable latex costumes made to look like comical, inflated bodies—Barbie proportions on one woman, layers of fat and an exaggerated bush on another. They clean, lounge, read the newspaper and listen to the radio. There is some play with what appears to be a BDSM sling. The costumes, music and performance call to mind an unwholesome pornographic film with low production values. Chadwick’s comment on the severe circumscribing of female bodies, whether in the home or in the porn industry—is unmistakable. The idea of curtailed bodies reaches its apogee in Rosemarie Trockel’s 2010 installation “Spiral Betty,” which uses neon lights on a wall to approximate a T-shaped intrauterine contraceptive device. Trockel has played with this concept for years—the cover of a book draft from 1988, one of a series featured in the exhibition, has a picture of the device on it. According to Titz, some women who saw the exhibition in Germany remembered that the con

In Order to Join, brings together pieces by 14 women from various countries to Mumbai’s Max Mueller Bhavan and Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Vastu Sangrahalaya, or CSMVS—two venues separated by a five-minute walk.

Country Name Country Name Country Name Country Name Country Name Country

The 1975 installation “Alma, Silueta en Fuego” (Soul, Silhouette on Fire) shows a figure that resembles a corpse, which is set on fire, while the 1981 “Birth” has one gently exploded by gunpowder—a reference to a Cuban belief in the material’s healing power. It is impossible to completely break down the works of some of the international artists without a close reading of their contexts and the references their creators were drawing upon. Despite the time-lag, however, all the works bear a sense of immediacy—or, seen a different way, timelessness. Neither the issues the artists were confronting, nor their experiences as female subjects and chroniclers of their moment, seem to have varied much through the decades that separate them from the contemporary viewer. The exhibits at the Max Mueller Bhavan are more loosely linked than those on display at the CSMVS, which are arranged according to two schemes: the ground floor is devoted to performances and videos that examines the body in conjunction with its natural and political environment, while the first floor has text-based works that link the personal and the political. The natural history, numismatics and miniature painting galleries at the CSMVS, accomodated in the main gallery structure, draw hundreds of visitors every day; but the travelling exhibitions hosted here are typically mounted in separate, ded-

traceptive “hurt like hell.” “Women who were coming to the show said, ‘This was a mess,’” she told me. “It had become something that would liberate you, but also cause you pain.” “Spiral Betty” also includes an inside joke: its large scale mocks the monumental works produced by the almost entirely male clique of “land artists,” who landscaped nature to create their pieces. The title is a direct parody of “Spiral Jetty” Robert Smithson’s “earthwork” at Utah’s Great Salt Lake, constructed in the 1970s. Land Art and monumental scales return, in differing forms, in the works of Astrid Klein and the Mexican artist Ana Mendieta. Much of Klein’s work consists of photography, and she reacted to the largely male tendency to work with oversize objects by occupying large spaces herself. For example, in her large-format photo collages from the Broken Heart series, created in the early 1980s, the artist overlaid mass-media, sexualised images of actresses such as Brigitte Bardot with text from the German novelist Arno Schmidt’s weighty 1971 volume Zettels Traum. Another example of the way Klein manipulates scale is her work with mirrors, which first appeared in 1993 with a set of 18 reflective panels shot through with a 9 mm gun. Five of these are on display at the exhibition, forming spidery arrangements that warp reflections in ways reminiscent of a hall of mirrors. The work is a grim reminder of the far-left militancy and attacks by the Red Army Faction that affected Germany in the early 1970s, when Klein was pursuing her fine arts degree in Cologne. Mendieta employs the tropes of Land Art in her silueta—silhouette—videos, produced in the early 1970s. Shot in the open, these focus on Mendieta’s “earth-body” sculptures, based on a scale model of her own body and fashioned outdoors out of sand, grass and rocks. These primeval forms are then subjected to the elements—fire in one, flowing water in another—suggesting the artist’s connection with the earth. The 1975 installation “Alma, Silueta en Fuego” (Soul, Silhouette on Fire) shows a figure that resembles a corpse, which is set on fire, while the 1981 “Birth” has one gently exploded by gunpowder—a reference to a Cuban belief in the material’s healing power.

icated galleries. This time, though, the curators decided to place some works in the vitrines in a first-floor rotunda, where parts of the permanent historic collections are housed—a first for the CSMVS, Tamhane told me. “We were really keen to have as many people as possible view them,” she said. The rotunda hosts the work of Trockel, the Indian artist Sheela Gowda, and Grauerholz. Broadly, all three artists employ texts as images. Each of them brings historical loss—on a national, civilisational or grand cultural scale— down to a comprehensible level. Grauerholz marks her presence with two quietly devastating photo series. The first, “Privation,” from 2001, is a set of scanned images of burnt books from Grauerholz’s personal library, which she lost in a fire. Even though the images are two-dimensional, the frayed, charred state of the pages they show imbues them with a sculptural quality. In this case, private grief acquires a political tint when Grauerholz draws a parallel between the damage to her collection and the mass destruction of books and libraries to annihilate a people’s history. In an accompanying statement, she cites Carsten Frederiksen, the deputy director of the Library Federation in Copenhagen, who was involved in a UNESCO-supported initiative to rebuild libraries in Kosovo after the war between Serbian forces and Kosovar Albanian separatists in 1998 and 1999:

through the decades that separate them from the contemporary viewer. The exhibits at the Max Mueller Bhavan are more loosely linked than those on display at the CSMVS, which are arranged according to two schemes: the ground floor is devoted to performances and videos that examines the body in conjunction with its natural and political environment, while the first floor has text-based works that link the personal and the political. The natural history, numismatics and miniature painting galleries at the CSMVS, accomodated in the main gallery structure, draw hundreds of visitors every day; but the travelling exhibitions hosted here are typically mounted in separate, dedicated galleries. This time, though, the curators decided to place some works in the vitrines in a first-floor rotunda, where parts of the permanent historic collections are housed—a first for the CSMVS, Tamhane told me. “We were really keen to have as many people as possible view them,” she said. The rotunda hosts the work of Trockel, the Indian artist Sheela Gowda, and Grauerholz. Broadly, all three artists employ texts as images. Each of them brings historical loss—on a national, civilisational or grand cultural scale—down to a comprehensible level. Grauerholz marks her presence with two quietly devastating photo series. The first, “Privation,” from 2001, is a set of scanned images of burnt books from Grauerholz’s personal library, which she lost in a fire. Even though the images are two-dimensional, the frayed, charred state of the pages they show imbues them with a sculptural quality. In this case, private grief acquires a political tint when Grauerholz draws a parallel between the damage to her collection and the mass destruction of books and libraries to annihilate a people’s history. In an accompanying statement, she cites Carsten Frederiksen, the deputy director of the Library Federation in Copenhagen, who was involved in a UNESCO-supported initiative to rebuild libraries in Kosovo after the war between Serbian forces and Kosovar Albanian separatists in 1998 and 1999: all ethnic Albanian material in Kosovo were removed from the libraries or fired or sacked about 10 years ago… no new books in the Albanian language have been acquired since 1991. And in this sense you might speak of ethnic cleansing in the libraries. A sense of bereavement also abides in Grauerholz’s 1999 “Schriftbilder”, literally “typeface,” a series of gelatin prints of lost or dying scripts displayed on the walls of the rotunda. These include ancient scripts, including Babylonian and Egyptian hieroglyphs; obscure ones such as Estranghelo (an early form of the Syriac alphabet) and Lontara (used in several languages spoken by tribes in Sulawesi, In-

all ethnic Albanian material in Kosovo were removed from the libraries or fired or sacked about 10 years ago… no new books in the Albanian language have been acquired since 1991. And in this sense you might speak of ethnic cleansing in the libraries. A sense of bereavement also abides in Grauerholz’s 1999 “Schriftbilder”, literally “typeface,” a series of gelatin prints of lost or dying scripts displayed on the walls of the rotunda. These include ancient scripts, including Babylonian and Egyptian hieroglyphs; obscure ones such as Estranghelo (an early form of the Syriac alphabet) and Lontara (used in several languages spoken by tribes in Sulawesi, Indonesia); and some truly inexplicable choices, like Devanagari and the Tibetan script. (The last two aren’t extinct by any measure, but Grauerholz is perhaps auguring a dismal fate for them in an increasingly linguistically flattened world.) Created two years prior to “Privation”, “Schriftbilder” almost seems to presage Grauerholz’s later work. No translations accompany the prints and the viewers’ inability to understand the printed words mirrors the very real incomprehensibility of the script, turning meaningful symbols into impenetrable images. These dead scripts share wall space with dire news. Sheela Gowda’s 2008 “Best Cutting” is a digital collage of newsprint from the fictional Chronic Chron-

‫ن‬

icle, which bears the outlines of trouser and tunic patterns, of the kind used by tailors. The newspaper impersonates an actual one, but the carefully contrasting newsclips in it are, terrifyingly, true stories. Photographs of garlanded politicians, including LK Advani, are juxtaposed with news about the Ayodhya verdict and a food article urging readers to “Try a glass of ‘karela.’” A think piece entitled “Indians in the world: how we see ourselves” appears next to an article about the Bangladeshi novelist Taslima Nasreen’s withdrawal of “objectionable material” from public circulation. Other pieces bring out the bizarreness of the Indian polity—wedged next to a report on Zaheera Sheikh’s sentencing for perjury in the Best Bakery case is a tiny column advertising “Quality mushrooms.” Gowda’s political intentions draw both gravity and flippancy from her gallows humour. The collages echo the concept of text as an object, but that idea is more fully realised in Jamelie Hassan’s neon installation “‫”ن‬, displayed at the Max Mueller Bhavan. The title, pronounced “noon,” uses the fourteenth letter of the Arabic alphabet, which has conflicting connotations: It has no ascribable meaning, yet is considered a mysterious or device letter in the Quran. Owing to its vessel-like shape, Sufi poets such as Rumi regarded it a symbol of the inkpot. When Hassan first created the piece, in 2009, she was interested in the character’s “mathe-

A red ‫—ن‬signifying “Nazarene,” a derogatory term for Christians— was used by Islamic State fighters to mark the homes of the besieged community in Mosul.

matical aesthetic.” Over the last year, however, the letter has achieved astonishing resonance in another part of the world. A red ‫—ن‬signifying “Nazarene,” a derogatory term for Christians—was used by Islamic State fighters to mark the homes of the besieged community in Mosul. The letter gained even greater currency in August 2014, when Facebook and Twitter users began to use it as a profile picture to express solidarity with Iraqi Christians. In some ways, bringing together these diverse artists from a variety of nationalities and ethnicities is itself an act of solidarity. Some feminist theorists dismiss or deny the existence of a universal female experience—a way of looking at the world peculiar to women—which glosses over boundaries of time, space and individuality. In Order to Join defies them. Viewed in isolation, the exhibits act as individual registers of a historical moment. Together, they acquire a vigour, a momentum and a voice far more unified than the sum of its parts. s

Gowda’s collages echo the concept of text as an object, but that idea is more fully realised in Jamelie Hassan’s neon installation “‫”ن‬

donesia); and some truly inexplicable choices, like Devanagari and the Tibetan script. (The last two aren’t extinct by any measure, but Grauerholz is perhaps auguring a dismal fate for them in an increasingly linguistically flattened world.) Created two years prior to “Privation”, “Schriftbilder” almost seems to presage Grauerholz’s later work. No translations accompany the prints and the viewers’ inability to understand the printed words mirrors the very real incomprehensibility of the script, turning meaningful symbols into impenetrable images. These dead scripts share wall space with dire news. Sheela Gowda’s 2008 “Best Cutting” is a digital collage of newsprint from the fictional Chronic Chronicle, which bears the outlines of trouser and tunic patterns, of the kind used by tailors. The newspaper impersonates an actual one, but the carefully contrasting newsclips in it are, terrifyingly, true stories. Photographs of garlanded politicians, including LK Advani, are juxtaposed with news about the Ayodhya verdict and a food article urging readers to “Try a glass of ‘karela.’” A think piece entitled “Indians in the world: how we see ourselves” appears next to an article about the Bangladeshi novelist Taslima Nasreen’s withdrawal of “objectionable material” from public circulation. Other pieces bring out the bizarreness of the Indian polity—wedged next to a report on Zaheera Sheikh’s sentencing for perjury in the Best Bakery case is a tiny column advertising “Quality mushrooms.” Gowda’s political intentions draw both gravity and flippancy from her gallows humour. The collages echo the concept of text as an object, but that idea is more fully realised in Jamelie Hassan’s neon installation “‫”ن‬, displayed at the Max Mueller Bhavan. The title, pronounced “noon,” uses the fourteenth letter of the Arabic alphabet, which has conflicting connotations: It has no ascribable meaning, yet is considered a mysterious or device

NAME Image description goes here

letter in the Quran. Owing to its vessel-like shape, Sufi poets such as Rumi regarded it a symbol of the inkpot. When Hassan first created the piece, in 2009, she was interested in the character’s “mathematical aesthetic.” Over the last year, however, the letter has achieved astonishing resonance in another part of the world. A red ‫—ن‬signifying “Nazarene,” a derogatory term for Christians—was used by Islamic State fighters to mark the homes of the besieged community in Mosul. The letter gained even greater currency in August 2014, when Facebook and Twitter users began to use it as a profile picture to express solidarity with Iraqi Christians. In some ways, bringing together these diverse artists from a variety of nationalities and ethnicities is itself an act of solidarity. Some feminist theorists dismiss or deny the existence of a universal female experience—a way of looking at the world peculiar to women—which glosses over boundaries of time, space and individuality. In Order to Join defies them. Viewed in isolation, the exhibits act as individual registers of a historical moment. Together, they acquire a vigour, a momentum and a voice far more unified than the sum of its parts.

‫ن‬

A red ‫—ن‬ signifying “Nazarene,” a derogatory term for Christians— was used by Islamic State fighters to mark the homes of the besieged community in Mosul.

155 Written by Karanjeet Kaur

TAKING A PART

Rummana hussain’s installation, “a space for healing,” was made in 1999, shortly before the artist died of cancer.

women face on city streets, for example, is to impose curfews and restrict women’s movement. This confinement and curtailing of women’s autonomy, however, is itself an act of violence. The domestic sphere reappears, with a great deal of levity, in the work of the British artist Helen Chadwick. In her 1976 piece “Bargain Basement Bonzana”, a 16-minute segment from a longer video series called Domestic Sanitation, a burlesque household scene plays out. The performers are dressed in uncomfortable latex costumes made to look like comical, inflated bodies—Barbie proportions on one woman, layers of fat and an exaggerated bush on another. They clean, lounge, read the newspaper and listen to the radio. There is some

Rummana hussain’s installation, “a space for healing,” was made in 1999, shortly before the artist died of cancer.

ART REVIEW

‘In Order to Join’ allows women to become interpreters of history

tries to Mumbai’s Max Mueller Bhavan and Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Vastu Sangrahalaya, or CSMVS—two venues separated by a five-minute walk. The curators, Swapnaa Tamhane and Susanne Titz, specifically chose works with longevity, that are concerned with a specific period in modern history, but which also reflect contemporary events. On display in Mumbai until 10 April, the exhibition was first mounted in 2013, at the Museum Abteiberg in Mönchengladbach, Germany. Titz is the director of that museum, which was established in 1904 and is well known for its pop art and Nouveau réalisme collections. She was introduced to Tamhane by the artist Jitish Kallat, who thought she would be interested in Tamhane’s PhD research into the politically charged and formally challenging work of the late artist Rummana Hussain. “Susanne and I immediately started talking,” Tamhane told me when we met recently at the Max Mueller Bhavan. “She mentioned Astrid Klein and this generation of women artists who were working in the eighties. I mentioned, along with Rummana Hussain, Angela Grauerholz and Rosemarie Trockel.” The two curators found that they were looking at female artists born in the early 1950s who, Tamhane said, “started working after the Second Wave of feminism—they weren’t doing any rahrah feminist thing and were working in a very different way.” Even though no themes united these artists initially, Tamhane said specific works immediately sprang to mind that seemed to loosely converse with each other. For instance, the Canadian artist Angela Grauerholz and the German artist Astrid Klein both employed

BY KARANJEET KAUR

‘In Order to Join’ allows women to become interpreters of history

Gowda’s collages echo the concept of text as an object, but that idea is more fully realised in Jamelie Hassan’s neon installation “‫”ن‬ black-and-white images and newsprint, and used contemporary events to hark back to the past. Tamhane and Titz zeroed down on the deceptively simple curatorial strategy of selecting artists born between 1948 and 1958—the first generation, they wrote in the exhibition catalogue, “to experience a global identity.” This rather free-flowing approach comes together surprisingly well. With a large corpus of over 40 works, some of which are series with multiple pieces, this is one of the largest international exhibitions of women artists ever mounted in India. Through its breadth, it avoids the trap of making its contributors simply ciphers of the national or regional conditions of their sex. The selection of artists who are united by gender and a historical moment, but who span several nationalities and ethnicities, is liberating; it allows the women to become interpreters of history rather than its by-products. The feminist lens through which they do this is implicit, and often layered with other concerns—language politics, religious beliefs, personal identity, geographic location. The connections between the works are discernible, yet the curators mostly just suggest tenuous links, leaving viewers to discover common ground on their own.

rated by a five-minute walk. The curators, Swapnaa Tamhane and Susanne Titz, specifically chose works with longevity, that are concerned with a specific period in modern history, but which also reflect contemporary events. On display in Mumbai until 10 April, the exhibition was first mounted in 2013, at the Museum Abteiberg in Mönchengladbach, Germany. Titz is the director of that museum, which was established in 1904 and is well known for its pop art and Nouveau réalisme collections. She was introduced to Tamhane by the artist Jitish Kallat, who thought she would be interested in Tamhane’s PhD research into the politically charged and formally challenging work of the late artist Rummana Hussain. “Susanne and I immediately started talking,” Tamhane told me when we met recently at the Max Mueller Bhavan. “She mentioned Astrid Klein and this generation of women artists who were working in the eighties. I mentioned, along with Rummana Hussain, Angela Grauerholz and Rosemarie Trockel.” The two curators found that they were looking at female artists born in the early 1950s who, Tamhane said, “started working after the Second Wave of feminism—they weren’t doing any rah-rah feminist thing and were working in a very different way.” Even though no themes united these artists initially, Tamhane said specific works immediately sprang to mind that seemed to loosely converse with each other. For instance, the Canadian artist Angela Grauerholz and the German artist Astrid Klein both employed black-and-white images and

ART REVIEW

TA K I N G A PA R T

The two curators found that they were looking at female artists born in the early 1950s who, started working after the Second Wave of feminism

The two curators found that they were looking at female artists born in the early 1950s who, started working after the Second Wave of feminism—they weren’t doing any rah-rah feminist thing and were working in a very newsprint, and used contemporary events to hark back to the past. Tamhane and Titz zeroed down on the deceptively simple curatorial strategy of selecting artists born between 1948 and 1958—the first generation, they wrote in the exhibition catalogue, “to experience a global identity.” This rather free-flowing approach comes together surprisingly well. With a large corpus of over 40 works, some of which are series with multiple pieces, this is one of the largest international exhibitions of women artists ever mounted in India. Through its breadth, it avoids the trap of making its contrib-

her tragically early death, from cancer, in 1999. Her work, specifically her performances, explored religious and personal identity, often imparting slightly off-kilter takeaways. In her notable 1998 performance “Is it what you think?”, Hussain sat on a stool at the Kaskadenkondensator gallery in Basel while slides of self-portraits of her wearing a chador were projected onto her body. This performance is not part of In Order to Join, but the exhibition does feature a poster that accompanied it. On the poster are a series of questions that betray certain assumptions that are commonly made when projecting meaning onto a female figure’s appearance. “Where does she belong? Is she behind a veil? Have you defined her?,” it begins. The questions range from the droll—“Do you think she believes in the Jihad? Did you read it in today’s newspaper?” —to the earnest—“Are her beliefs an escape? Or a security? Or a habit? Or a choice?”—to the challenging—“Do you pity her? Is that your construct? Is that a predicament?” The body is absent but implied in “A Space for Healing,” a complex installation by Hussain that is the centrepiece of In Order to Join. Far less confrontational in tone than “Is it what you think?”, this 1999 installation, which is at the Max Mueller Bhavan, was Hus

utors simply ciphers of the national or regional conditions of their sex. The selection of artists who are united by gender and a historical moment, but who span several nationalities and ethnicities, is liberating; it allows the women to become interpreters of history rather than its by-products. The feminist lens through which they do this is implicit, and often layered with other concerns—language politics, religious beliefs, personal identity, geographic location. The connections between the works are discernible, yet the curators mostly just suggest tenuous links, leaving viewers to discover common ground on their own.

Rummana hussain’s installation, “a space for healing,” was made in 1999, shortly before the artist died of cancer.

sain’s last. Shortly before her death, it was sent to the Asia-Pacific Triennial of Contemporary Art in Brisbane, where a young Shilpa Gupta—now one of India’s best-known installation artists, who was then documenting Hussain’s work—put it up on its creator’s behalf. This is the first time the artwork is being shown in India, after a gap of nearly 16 years. “A Space for Healing” is contained within a room that is bathed in red light and looks like a cross between a mosque and a hospital. A set of kitschy gold paisley-print stretchers are laid out like prayer rugs, arranged with medical paraphernalia, such as bottles, syringes and tubes. The walls bear what resemble Nastaliq letters, fashioned out of rusted tools—scythes, scalpels, tongs, tweezers—but on closer inspection (and a knowledge of the script) don’t add up to intelligible words. A sound system plays a layered incantation: a mix of Mumbai street noises and the metronomic rhythm of the azan. However, what sounds like a call to prayer is really a voice saying, in English, “Put the needle into your vein.” Hussain appears to have employed the title “A Space for Healing” satirically. The art historian Geeta Kapur

Curators

Swapnaa Tamhane Small Bio description here

Susanne Titz Small Bio description here

Curators

According to Titz, some women who saw the exhibition in Germany remembered that the contraceptive “hurt like hell.” “Women who were coming to the show said, ‘This was a mess,’” she told me. “It had become something that would liberate you, but also cause you pain.” closer inspection (and a knowledge of the script) don’t add up to intelligible words. A sound system plays a layered incantation: a mix of Mumbai street noises and the metronomic rhythm of the azan. However, what sounds like a call to prayer is really a voice saying, in English, “Put the needle into your vein.” Hussain appears to have employed the title “A

membered that the contraceptive “hurt like hell.” “Women who were coming to the show said, ‘This was a mess,’” she told me. “It had become something that would liberate you, but also cause you pain.” “Spiral Betty” also includes an inside joke: its large scale mocks the monumental works produced by the almost entirely male clique of “land artists,” who landscaped nature to create their pieces. The title is a direct parody of “Spiral Jetty” Robert Smithson’s “earthwork” at Utah’s Great Salt Lake, constructed in the 1970s. Land Art and monumental scales return, in differing forms, in the works of Astrid Klein and the Mexican artist Ana Mendieta. Much of Klein’s work con

Gowda’s collages echo the concept of text as an object, but that idea is more fully realised in Jamelie Hassan’s neon installation “‫”ن‬

wrote in the exhibition’s brochure that the piece “offers to put to rest the urban nightmare,” but the overall effect of being inside the room, with its macabre reminders of death, and its harsh light and sound design, is anything but restful. Neither medical science nor religious faith truly offer recuperation from the city. In Hussain’s installation, mortality is the final constraint on—or perhaps the absolute release from?—the absent body. A running theme in many of the other works in In Order to Join, however, is that the female body in particular endures dozens of restrictions throughout life, as women constantly struggle to retain autonomy and control over their physical being.

play with what appears to be a BDSM sling. The costumes, music and performance call to mind an unwholesome pornographic film with low production values. Chadwick’s comment on the severe circumscribing of female bodies, whether in the home or in the porn industry—is unmistakable. The idea of curtailed bodies reaches its apogee in Rosemarie Trockel’s 2010 installation “Spiral Betty,” which uses neon lights on a wall to approximate a T-shaped intrauterine contraceptive device. Trockel has played with this concept for years—the cover of a book draft from 1988, one of a series featured in the exhibition, has a picture of the device on it. According to Titz, some women who saw the exhibition in Germany re-

from rape—became a punishable crime, leading to the severe persecution of women who had been raped and required four male eyewitnesses to prove their “innocence.” The WAF reacted by plastering the city with a poster that reads “Ek aurat, ek gawahi” (One woman, one testimony)—that poster is used on the invitation card for In Order to Join. Another example of such “mass” art, shorn of the triviality often associated with it, is Rukh’s 1983 “Crimes against Women,” a composite of 18 offset-printed posters. These consist of a collage of news clippings about violence against women. The headlines, gleaned from newspapers such as The Muslim, Dawn and The Daily Jang, include “Worker stabs ex-wife,” and “Zina: RI [Rigorous Imprisonment,] lashes to woman.” One particularly eerie report quotes eyewitnesses who saw a fleeing woman “done to death” by her brother; its ominousness is underscored by the lack of detail on the actual cause of death, implying an embarrassed elision of the female body altogether. Rukh’s posters blur the supposed opposition between the public sphere as the arena of violence and the domestic one as a place of refuge. The most common response to the perceived danger

Space for Healing” satirically. The art historian Geeta Kapur wrote in the exhibition’s brochure that the piece “offers to put to rest the urban nightmare,” but the overall effect of being inside the room, with its macabre reminders of death, and its harsh light and sound design, is anything but restful. Neither medical science nor religious faith truly offer recuperation from the city. In Hussain’s installation, mortality is the final constraint on—or perhaps the absolute release from?—the absent body. A running theme in many of the other works in In Order to Join, however, is that the female body in particular endures dozens of restrictions throughout life, as women constantly struggle to retain autonomy and control over their physical being.

sists of photography, and she reacted to the largely male tendency to work with oversize objects by occupying large spaces herself. For example, in her large-format photo collages from the Broken Heart series, created in the early 1980s, the artist overlaid mass-media, sexualised images of actresses such as Brigitte Bardot with text from the German novelist Arno Schmidt’s weighty 1971 volume Zettels Traum. Another example of the way Klein manipulates scale is her work with mirrors, which first appeared in 1993 with a set of 18 reflective panels shot through with a 9 mm gun. Five of these are on display at the exhibition, forming spidery arrangements that warp reflections in ways reminiscent of a hall of mirrors. The work is a grim reminder of the far-left militancy and attacks by the Red Army Faction that affected Germany in the early 1970s, when Klein was pursuing her fine arts degree in Cologne. Mendieta employs the tropes of Land Art in her silueta—silhouette—videos, produced in the early 1970s. Shot in the open, these focus on Mendieta’s “earth-body” sculptures, based on a scale model of her own body and fashioned outdoors out of sand, grass and rocks. These primeval forms are then subjected to the elements—fire in one, flowing water in another—suggesting the artist’s connection with the earth. The 1975 installation “Alma, Silueta

Rukh’s posters blur the supposed opposition between the public sphere as the arena of violence and the domestic one as a place of refuge. The most common response to the perceived danger women face on city streets, for example, is to impose curfews and restrict women’s movement. This confinement and curtailing of women’s autonomy, however, is itself an act of violence. The domestic sphere reappears, with a great deal of levity, in the work of the British artist Helen Chadwick. In her 1976 piece “Bargain Basement Bonzana”, a 16-minute segment from a longer video series called Domestic Sanitation, a burlesque household scene plays out. The performers are dressed in uncomfortable latex costumes made to look like comical, inflated bodies—Barbie proportions on one woman, layers of fat and an exaggerated bush on another. They clean, lounge, read the newspaper and listen to the radio. There is some play with what appears to be a BDSM sling. The costumes, music and performance call to mind an unwholesome pornographic film with low production values. Chadwick’s comment on the severe circumscribing of female bodies, whether in the home or in the porn industry—is unmistakable. The idea of curtailed bodies reaches its apogee in Rosemarie Trockel’s 2010 installation “Spiral Betty,” which uses neon lights on a wall to approximate a T-shaped intrauterine contraceptive device. Trockel has played with this concept for years—the cover of a book draft from 1988, one of a series featured in the exhibition, has a picture of the device on it. According to Titz, some women who saw the exhibition in Germany remembered that the contraceptive “hurt like hell.” “Women who were coming to the show said, ‘This was a mess,’” she told me. “It had become something that would liberate you, but also cause you pain.” “Spiral Betty” also includes an inside joke: its large scale mocks the monumental works produced by the almost entirely male clique of “land artists,” who landscaped nature to create their pieces. The title is a direct parody of “Spiral Jetty” Robert Smithson’s “earthwork” at Utah’s Great Salt Lake, constructed in the 1970s. Land Art and monumental scales return, in differing forms, in the works of Astrid Klein and the Mexican artist Ana Mendieta. Much of Klein’s work consists of photography, and she reacted to the largely male tendency to work with oversize objects by occupying large spaces herself. For example, in her large-format photo collages from the Broken Heart series, created in the early 1980s, the artist overlaid mass-media, sexualised images of actresses such as Brigitte Bardot with text from the German novelist Arno Schmidt’s weighty 1971 volume Zettels Traum. Another example of the way Klein manipulates

scale is her work with mirrors, which first appeared in 1993 with a set of 18 reflective panels shot through with a 9 mm gun. Five of these are on display at the exhibition, forming spidery arrangements that warp reflections in ways reminiscent of a hall of mirrors. The work is a grim reminder of the far-left militancy and attacks by the Red Army Faction that affected Germany in the early 1970s, when Klein was pursuing her fine arts degree in Cologne. Mendieta employs the tropes of Land Art in her silueta—silhouette—videos, produced in the early 1970s. Shot in the open, these focus on Mendieta’s “earth-body” sculptures, based on a scale model of her own body and fashioned outdoors out of sand, grass and rocks. These primeval forms are then subjected to the elements—fire in one, flowing water in another—suggesting the artist’s connection with the earth. The 1975 installation “Alma, Silueta en Fuego” (Soul, Silhouette on Fire) shows a figure that resembles a corpse, which is set on fire, while the 1981 “Birth” has one gently exploded by gunpowder—a reference to a Cuban belief in the material’s healing power.

Rummana hussain’s installation, “a space for healing,” was made in 1999, shortly before the artist died of cancer.

en Fuego” (Soul, Silhouette on Fire) shows a figure that resembles a corpse, which is set on fire, while the 1981 “Birth” has one gently exploded by gunpowder—a reference to a Cuban belief in the material’s healing power.

Gowda’s collages echo the concept of text as an object, but that idea is more fully realised in Jamelie Hassan’s neon installation “‫”ن‬

t is impossible to completely break down the works of some of the international artists without a close reading of their contexts and the references their creators were drawing upon. Despite the time-lag, however, all the works bear a sense of immediacy—or, seen a different way, timelessness. Neither the issues the artists were confronting, nor their experiences as female subjects and chroniclers of their moment, seem to have varied much through the decades that separate them from the contemporary viewer. The exhibits at the Max Mueller Bhavan are more loosely linked than those on display at the CSMVS, which are arranged according to two schemes: the ground floor is devoted to performances and videos that examines the body in conjunction with its natural and political environment, while the first floor has text-based works that link the personal and the political. The natural history, numismatics and miniature painting galleries at the CSMVS, accomodated in the main gallery structure, draw hundreds of visitors every day; but the travelling exhibitions hosted here are

Small Bio description here

typically mounted in separate, dedicated galleries. This time, though, the curators decided to place some works in the vitrines in a first-floor rotunda, where parts of the permanent historic collections are housed—a first for the CSMVS, Tamhane told me. “We were really keen to have as many people as possible view them,” she said. The rotunda hosts the work of Trockel, the Indian

Swapnaa Tamhane

artist Sheela Gowda, and Grauerholz. Broadly, all three artists employ texts as images. Each of them brings historical loss—on a national, civilisational or grand cultural scale—down to a comprehensible level. Grauerholz marks her presence with two quietly devastating photo series. The first, “Privation,” from 2001, is a set of scanned images of burnt books from Grauerholz’s personal library, which she lost in a fire. Even though the images are two-dimensional, the frayed, charred state of the pages they show imbues them with a sculptural quality. In this case, private grief acquires a political tint when Grauerholz draws a parallel between the damage to her collection and the mass destruction of books and libraries to annihilate a people’s history. In an accompanying statement, she cites Carsten Frederiksen, the deputy director of the Library Federation in Copenhagen, who was involved in a UNESCO-supported initiative to rebuild libraries in Kosovo after the war between Serbian forces and Kosovar Albanian separatists in 1998 and 1999: all ethnic Albanian material in Kosovo were removed from the libraries or fired or sacked about 10 years ago… no new books in the Albanian language have been acquired since 1991. And in this sense you might speak of ethnic cleansing in the libraries. A sense of bereavement also abides in Grauerholz’s 1999 “Schriftbilder”, literally “typeface,” a series of gelatin prints of lost or dying scripts displayed on the walls of the rotunda. These include ancient scripts, including Babylonian and Egyptian hieroglyphs; obscure ones such as Estranghelo (an early form of the Syriac alphabet) and Lontara (used in several languages spoken by tribes in Sulawesi, Indonesia); and some truly inexplicable choices, like Devanagari and the Tibetan script. (The last two aren’t extinct by any measure, but Grauerholz is perhaps auguring a dismal fate for them in an increasingly linguistically flattened world.) Created two years prior to “Privation”, “Schriftbilder” almost seems to presage Grauerholz’s later work. No translations accompany the prints and the viewers’

Susanne Titz Small Bio description here

separate, dedicated galleries. This time, though, the curators decided to place some works in the vitrines in a first-floor rotunda, where parts of the permanent historic collections are housed—a first for the CSMVS, Tamhane told me. “We were really keen to have as many people as possible view them,” she said. The rotunda hosts the work of Trockel, the Indian artist Sheela Gowda, and Grauerholz. Broadly, all three artists employ texts as images. Each of them brings historical loss—on a national, civilisational or grand cultural scale—down to a comprehensible level. Grauerholz marks her presence with two quietly devastating photo series. The first, “Privation,” from 2001, is a set of scanned images of burnt books from Grauerholz’s personal library, which she lost in a fire. Even though the images are two-dimensional, the frayed, charred state of the pages they show imbues them with a sculptural quality. In this case, private grief acquires a political tint when Grauerholz draws a parallel between the damage to her collection and the mass destruction of books and libraries to annihilate a people’s history. In an accompanying statement, she cites Carsten Frederiksen, the deputy director of the Library Federation in Copenhagen, who was involved in a UNESCO-supported initiative to rebuild libraries in Kosovo after the war between Serbian forces and Kosovar Albanian separatists in 1998 and 1999: all ethnic Albanian material in Kosovo were removed from the libraries or fired or sacked about 10 years ago… no new books in the Albanian language have been acquired since 1991. And in this sense you might speak of ethnic cleansing in the libraries. A sense of bereavement also abides in Grauerholz’s 1999 “Schriftbilder”, literally “typeface,” a series of gelatin prints of lost or dying scripts displayed on the walls of the rotunda. These include ancient scripts, including Babylonian and Egyptian hieroglyphs; obscure ones such as Estranghelo (an early form of the Syriac alphabet) and Lontara (used in several languages spoken by tribes in Sulawesi, Indonesia); and some truly inexplicable choices, like Devanagari and the Tibetan script. (The last two aren’t extinct by any measure, but Grauerholz is perhaps auguring a dismal fate for them in an increasingly linguistically flattened world.) Created two years prior to “Privation”, “Schriftbilder” almost seems to presage Grauerholz’s later work. No translations accompany the prints and the viewers’ inability to understand the printed words mirrors the very real incomprehensibility of the script, turning meaningful symbols into impenetrable images.

inability to understand the printed words mirrors the very real incomprehensibility of the script, turning meaningful symbols into impenetrable images. These dead scripts share wall space with dire news. Sheela Gowda’s 2008 “Best Cutting” is a digital collage of newsprint from the fictional Chronic Chronicle, which bears the outlines of trouser and tunic patterns, of the kind used by tailors. The newspaper impersonates an actual one, but the carefully contrasting newsclips in it are, terrifyingly, true stories. Photographs of garlanded politicians, including LK Advani, are juxtaposed with news about the Ayodhya verdict and a food article urging readers to “Try a glass of ‘karela.’” A think piece entitled “Indians in the world: how we see ourselves” appears next to an article about the Bangladeshi novelist Taslima Nasreen’s withdrawal of “objectionable material” from public circulation. Other pieces bring out the bizarreness of the Indian polity—wedged next to a report on Zaheera Sheikh’s sentencing for perjury in the Best Bakery case is a tiny column advertising “Quality mushrooms.” Gowda’s political intentions draw both gravity and flippancy from her gallows humour. The collages echo the concept of text as an object, but that idea is more fully realised in Jamelie Hassan’s neon installation “‫”ن‬, displayed at the Max Mueller Bhavan. The title, pronounced “noon,” uses the fourteenth letter of the Arabic alphabet, which has conflicting connotations: It has no ascribable meaning, yet is considered a mysterious or device letter in the Quran. Owing to its vessel-like shape, Sufi poets such as Rumi regarded it a symbol of the inkpot. When Hassan first created the piece, in 2009, she was interested in the character’s “mathematical aesthetic.” Over the last year, however, the letter has achieved astonishing resonance in another part of the world. A red ‫—ن‬signifying “Nazarene,” a derogatory term for Christians—was used by Islamic State fighters to mark the homes of the besieged community in Mosul. The letter gained even greater currency in August 2014, when Facebook and Twitter users began to use it as a profile picture to express solidarity with Iraqi Christians. In some ways, bringing together these diverse artists from a variety of nationalities and ethnicities is itself an act of solidarity. Some feminist theorists dismiss or deny the existence of a universal female experience—a way of looking at the world peculiar to women—which glosses over boundaries of time, space and individuality. In Order to Join defies them. Viewed in isolation, the exhibits act as individual registers of a historical moment. Together, they acquire a vigour, a momentum and a voice far more unified than the sum of its parts.

These dead scripts share wall space with dire news. Sheela Gowda’s 2008 “Best Cutting” is a digital collage of newsprint from the fictional Chronic Chronicle, which bears the outlines of trouser and tunic patterns, of the kind used by tailors. The newspaper impersonates an actual one, but the carefully contrasting newsclips in it are, terrifyingly, true stories. Photographs of garlanded politicians, including LK Advani, are juxtaposed with news about the Ayodhya verdict and a food article urging readers to “Try a glass of ‘karela.’” A think piece entitled “Indians in the world: how we see ourselves” appears next to an article about the Bangladeshi novelist Taslima Nasreen’s withdrawal of “objectionable material” from public circulation. Other pieces bring out the bizarreness of the Indian polity—wedged next to a report on Zaheera Sheikh’s sentencing for perjury in the Best Bakery case is a tiny column advertising “Quality mushrooms.” Gowda’s political intentions draw both gravity and flippancy from her gallows humour. The collages echo the concept of text as an object, but that idea is more fully realised in Jamelie Hassan’s neon installation “‫”ن‬, displayed at the Max Mueller Bhavan. The title, pronounced “noon,” uses the fourteenth letter of the Arabic alphabet, which has conflicting connotations: It has no ascribable meaning, yet is considered a mysterious or device letter in the Quran. Owing to its vessel-like shape, Sufi poets such as Rumi regarded it a symbol of the inkpot. When Hassan first created the piece, in 2009, she was interested in the character’s “mathematical aesthetic.” Over the last year, however, the letter has achieved astonishing resonance in another part of the world. A red ‫—ن‬signifying “Nazarene,” a derogatory term for Christians—was used by Islamic State fighters to mark the homes of the besieged community in Mosul. The letter gained even greater currency in August 2014, when Facebook and Twitter users began to use it as a profile picture to express solidarity with Iraqi Christians. In some ways, bringing together these diverse artists from a variety of nationalities and ethnicities is itself an act of solidarity. Some feminist theorists dismiss or deny the existence of a universal female experience—a way of looking at the world peculiar to women—which glosses over boundaries of time, space and individuality. In Order to Join defies them. Viewed in isolation, the exhibits act as individual registers of a historical moment. Together, they acquire a vigour, a momentum and a voice far more unified than the sum of its parts.

“ Wh er e does s he belong? Is sh e b ehind a veil? Have you d ef i n ed h e r? Do you pity her? Is t h a t yo u r cons truct? Is that a predicament?”

Approach #5 This approach was heavily influenced by the visual language followed in lifestyle magazines. Approach #6 In this design the attempt was to give each story a distinct sense of a beginning and end. In that sense, a lot of work went behind designing the first and the last page more like a book.

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015

156

Redesigning The Caravan Magazine

157

05 TAKING A STEP BACK

At the end of the second month, a sudden realization hit me- I had generated a huge bulk of work yet I was unclear about my ultimate goal. The numerous InDesign files on my desktop and countless pages of my notebook filled with rough explorations were a testament to the hours of hard work that had been put in to the project. However, despite working with focus and intent, I found myself unsure of having a clear vision for the final design outcome. This was naturally problematic. Luckily, this was just before my guide visit and my mentor at The Caravan suggested that I take a break from the intensive process of tangible exploration and use my time at NID to re-look at the project brief from a macroperspective. This advice could not have come at a better time.

Secondly, he asked me to pickup all the immediate market competitors of The Caravan and make an exhaustive list of all the visual styles and elements in use. Doing this had a two-fold benefit. One, it exposed me to a large variety of ways in which information could be managed or designed. Two, it helped me test the novelty and originality of my own design against what is already available in the market. Any design that is put up for consumption in the market must never come off as an imitation of something else. That is a disaster for the reputation of a designer as well as the brand and must be avoided at any cost. I believe this was a turning point in the project. It was time to restart!

At NID, a long and extensive discussion with my guide followed. Tarun and I discussed every nuance of the task at hand and analyzed the course of action that had been followed thus far. At this point he made a great suggestion, he asked me to go back to the stage of brainstorming and visually map my design problem and the context around it. Doing this made me question the relevance of all my design decisions. Now I had a well-defined set of parameters that I could gauge my design against. With the criteria in my hand, I revisited the explorations once more. This time around it was easy to judge which direction was fitting the bill and which wasn’t.

Pupul Bisht · UG Graphic Design

Graduation Project 2015