chartandwaters

Since many of the children had never done art in a formal setting, Gandhirajan suggested we start with something familiar to them and that they might feel confident doing--drawing kolams. Kolams are designs that women make, usually from some kind of flour such as rice flour, at the entry to their home. They usually make the kolams late at night or very early in the morning as a way of greeting the day; the kolams inevitably rub down and away by nightfall.

The kolams are usually made of lines that curve around a grid of evenly spaced dots. There are many standard kolams, but you can also make up your own. I will show you some photos of actual kolams soon.

For some reason primarily Hindu women make kolams, though they do not have religious meaning. Thus the Muslim girls were concerned at first that it was not okay to draw them. Gandhirajan explained that it was okay and they quickly set to the task.

Though we bought books full of different kolams to show the class, most girls and women have many different kinds of Kolams memorized and do not need books to draw them.



This is Mangayai Carasi. That's her whole first name; it means "Queen of Women." She’s friends with the NFE students, many of whom live in the “streets” of the shelter closest to the NFE classroom (the generally Muslim streets), so they hang out in the classroom and we see them a lot.

The first time I met them, I mangled her name terribly and everyone laughed. It became an ongoing joke and a kind of greeting. Each time I saw them, they would say her name and look at me. Or they would point at her and gesture that I should say her name. I would try to say it, falter and make funny faces. We had nearly no shared language but names, so they had massive value.




I don’t know her name; isn’t she a cutie. Girls here wear the most amazing clothing, full of sparkle and shimmer and dazzling colors, of an almost Bollywood wonderfulness. It’s as if instead of reserving some part of the day for make-believe, or letting the child go out in her princess costume only sometimes, they just let them dress up all day. The littlest girls, when they go out, wear confections: calf-length skirts puffed up with tulle, full of ruffles and frills and often complexly patterned, outrageous applique. As they get a little older the dresses may comfortably bear their shoulders, but the skirts are typically full and ankle-length.



Vasanthi on the right: a PCI volunteer, she wasn’t excited about making art but liked being around. Boobathi, on the left, wanted to be an artist and began art school but an arranged marriage took precedent. She’s drawing from memory a very complicated kolam that depicts three symbols, one of Hinduism, one of Islam, and one of Christianity, all being toted on a traditional temple cart (used to tote the image of a god during a ceremony). She has four children who are unusually creative; they dance, draw and write poetry.

I’m not telling individual’s tsunami-related stories just now, but of course all of these people live at the shelter because they have lost their homes. Anyone who has lost loved ones or property or both is what is called "tsunami-affected", though we tended to think of everyone in the village as tsunami-affected.



PCI volunteer Vijayalakshmi drawing kolams.




The lovely and ubiquitous Hussein Beevi, with kolams.