Gone forever: a wonderful bookshop in Bangalore (Bengaluru)

HERE IS A BRIEF excerpt from my book “CORACLES AND CROCODILES: 101 TALES OF INDIA”. It comes from a chapter on the booksellers in Bangalore (Bengaluru), and is about a remarkable bookshop that, sadly, no longer exists. Here is the extract from my book:

Premier, one of the most fantastic bookshops that has ever existed, is also no more. It closed some years ago when its owner, Mr Shanbag, retired. I felt almost as if I had suffered a bereavement when I arrived where the shop used to be located on the short stretch of Museum Road between MG Road and Church Street, and found that it was no longer there. I still mourn its passing.

From the outside, Premier could have been mistaken for a newsagent. A rack of magazines stood by the shop’s entrance. When you stepped inside, you felt as if you had entered a book-lover’s Aladdin’s Cave.  Mr Shanbag, who was related to the founder of Strand Bookstall in Bombay, used to sit by the entrance, hidden behind the piles of books and bits of paper cluttering up his tiny desk. The rectangular shop’s walls were lined with books stacked one upon each other, from floor to ceiling. A central divider was covered in books. Two narrow corridors ran along the length of the shop allowing customers and staff to penetrate the dingy depths of the establishment. Deep inside the shop there was a narrow, book-lined passageway connecting the two main corridors. This was so narrow that most adults, and obese children, needed to progress sideways along this claustrophobic book lined chasm.

In most bookshops, customers can pick a book from a shelf, browse it, and then replace it if necessary. This was not the case at Premier.  Only the foolhardy or a newcomer to the shop would attempt to take a book from the tall, precariously stacked piles on Premier’s bookshelves. A 19th century French composer, Alkan, was killed when he was crushed by books collapsing on him in his library. A possible injury awaited any customer who attempted to withdraw a book from Premier’s hazardously stacked shelves. One could say that the books were stacked perilously. One careless move would initiate an avalanche of literature – both fiction and non-fiction. This often happened. Shanbag would raise an eyebrow, and then he or one of his assistants would restore ‘order’ in the shelves.

You may well wonder how customers ever managed to browse in Premier. It was simple. All that was necessary was to ask Shanbag or one of his helpers to retrieve the book for you. If you were unable to see the book that you desired amongst the huge number of volumes stacked in the shop, Shanbag would be able to tell you instantly whether he had it in stock, without resorting to a computer or any form of catalogue. He knew exactly what he had in his shop, and where a book was located if he stocked it. And when you had made your selection, he would prepare a bill, and then knock 20% off the final total if you paid in cash.

A remarkable thing about Shanbag was his great understanding of his regular customers’ reading habits. He could remember what each customer had bought previously …

You can find out more about Premier as well as many aspects of life in India in my book/Kindle, which is available from Amazon stores such as: https://www.amazon.co.uk/CORACLES-CROCODILES-101-TALES-INDIA/dp/B0DJZ6DMYB/

As experiences of India gradually become memories

THE BOEING JET began moving away from the oddly designed new terminal at Bangalore’s International Airport. I watched the landscape slipping past ever more quickly as we accelerated along the runway before eventually becoming detached from the soil of India. As the aeroplane rose higher and higher, random things flashed through my mind such as: eating laal maas on a rooftop in Jaisalmer; a Dutch cemetery on the coromandel Coast; hawkers wandering up and down a railway carriage in West Bengal; riding through Bangalore in a Jesus autorickshaw; being asked to bless strangers, a newly married couple, in a church in Pondicherry; tasting nolen gur in Murshidabad; attending an aarti on the Ganges; and much more. After flying over the west coast of India, all of these experiences and a whole host of others that we had enjoyed during our 88 day stay in India became, like the coastline we crossed, distant memories, which I hope will remaine etched permanently in my mind.

Painting scenes of daily life on sheets of mica in colonial India

ONE CAN PAINT ON paper, canvas, glass, textiles, ceramics, and walls. Until yesterday (9 February 2025) when we visited an exhibition at Bangalore’s Museum of Art and Photography (‘MAP’), I did not know that paintings have been made on sheets of the translucent mineral mica. Mica has been, and still is, mined in great quantities in India.

 

Because of its translucency,  lanterns made with mica, on which images have been painted, have been used in both Hindu and Muslim ceremonies.  Since the eighteenth century artists have been creating paintings on mica, usually using watercolours or gouache mixed with an adhesive to ensure that the colours stick to the mica. Because the colours are on a translucent material that does not absorb any of the pigments, rather than opaque paper that inevitably absorbs some pigment, they appear much more vibrant on mica than on paper.

 

Murshidabad,  now in West Bengal,  was an important centre of mica painting. Initially, artists concentrated on paintings and portraits commissioned by local nawabs and other members of the Indian aristocracy.  With the arrival of Europeans in Murshidabad and other parts of Bengal in the late eighteenth century, the artists began depicting subjects designed to appeal to European customers. Europeans were particularly attracted to the paintings on mica. The subjects included illustrations of daily life and customs. They are therefore an interesting record of life in Bengal (and other parts of India) during the late eighteenth century.

 

The exhibition at MAP consists of a collection of paintings both on mica and on paper. These images were designed to appeal to European visitors (both short- and long-term) to India and are examples of Company Paintings  (East India Company).

 

Many of the paintings on mica depict people who appear to have no faces. Originally, these paintings had faces painted in gouache. However, the faces were painted on a layer of mica placed above that on which the rest of the subject was painted. This was done to give the images a three dimensional quality. Sadly, many of these upper layers have been lost, resulting in literally a loss of face.

 

The exhibition at MAP was well displayed. An extremely informative booklet about the exhibits and mica painting was available free of charge.  I am pleased we visited the show not only because it was both beautiful and fascinating,  but also because we had visited Murshidabad a few weeks earlier.

PS mica painting was done in parts of India where mica was plentiful,  such as Andhra Pradesh,  Madhya Pradesh, Tamil Nadu, Rajasthan,  Bihar, and Jharkhand.

Traditional inlaid metalwork used to make contemporary art

BIDRI WORK IS a method for creating decorative metal items. Its name derives from Bidar in Karnataka,  where this technique was developed and is still used. Objects are made by casting a black coloured alloy containing copper and zinc in the proportion 1: 16. Then, craftsmen use fine chisels to engrave often very intricate patterns on the surface of the cast alloy. These grooves are then filled by hammering fine silver wire into them. So, the resulting item is a dark metal object inlaid with silver.

 

Today, 8 February 2025, we visited the Kaash gallery, which is housed in a well-preserved traditional Bangalore bungalow. One of the three small exhibitions currently being displayed is a collection of Bidri art works. The artefacts were designed by Stephen Cox, a British artist, and were made by Abdul Bari, a Bidri craftsman. The resulting artworks are both unusual and beautiful.

 

The two other exhibitions at Kaash were: colourful contemporary seating made by weavers from Tamil Nadu and designed by David Joe Thomas,  and some sculptures and lighting by Italian artist Andrea Anastasio.

 

Our visit to Kaash was very satisfying. Although small, it is a place in Bangalore that art-lovers should not miss.

A holy roller in Bangalore (Bengaluru)

ON THE SIXTH of February 2025, I  boarded an auto (autorickshaw,  tuk-tuk) in central Bangalore. It contained a selection of Christian religious leaflets and booklets, which passengers were invited to take. Some of them were in English,  the rest in Kannada (the main language spoken in Karnataka). The driver had adorned his auto with Christianity related stickers.

 

As we wove our way through the busy traffic, I wondered if I was travelling in a type of ‘Peace Auto’. The Peace Auto movement in Bangalore was started by Anil Shetty in October 2013 to improve the relationships between auto drivers and their passengers. To quote from Shetty:

“Peace Autos is an initiative to make peace between the City and auto drivers. There is a one-sided argument that all auto drivers are bad. But that’s not true. I want to make them feel responsible.” (https://www.deccanherald.com/india/karnataka/bengaluru/a-surprise-experience-peace-auto-2189174).

 

When I reached my destination, the driver said (in English):

“God bless you.”

I asked him if his vehicle was a Peace Auto. He replied:

“No, it is Jesus Auto”.

Chikkamma Tours (Pvt.) Ltd: a detective story set in Bangalore

THIS BOOK WAS RECOMMENDED to me by a bookseller in Bangalore, at Bookworm, because she said that the shop is mentioned in the book. In the novel, Chikkamma Tours is a small travel company located beneath a bookshop run by Jagat Desai. One night, he is murdered. His body is found the next morning by one of the ladies who work in the office beneath the bookshop. The police are informed, but the three women who work at Chikkamma Tours decide to make their own investigation of the murder. What they discovered about themselves and the crime are the subjects of this ‘whodunnit’ novel.

Although I enjoyed reading it, this book is not a great work of literature. However, it was fun and I liked it because it captures many aspects of life in a city I visit frequently: Bangalore. As I proceeded through it, I recognised many things I know about the city and, especially, its bookshops.

Would I recommend this book? I would to Bangaloreans and to people who know the city well. However, I am uncertain that it would appeal to those who have little or no connection with the city. That said, I am pleased that the lady at Bookworm suggested I should read it.

He moves with the sun on Jewellers Street in Bangalore

JEWELLERS STREET RUNS in a north/south direction. In the morning, the sun shines on the west side of the street and in the afternoon, on the east side. As its name suggests, the street is lined with many shops selling jewellery.

Jewellery breaks sometimes, but it can often be repaired. K is a jewellery repairer. In the morning he sits working in the shade on the pavement on the east side of the street, outside a particular shop. In the afternoon, you will find him outside a shop close to a silver and hold plating shop on the west side of the street.

K squats bare-footed alongside his trays of tools and materials, and mends a wide variety of jewellery. When re-threading necklaces and bracelets, he uses his toes to hold one end of the thread. We visit this friendly, highly skilled man whenever we are in Bangalore, usually with items if jewellery that have broken since our last visit to the city.

Ageing bungalows in Bangalore (Bengaluru)

BANGALORE IS A CITY which changes rapidly. Sadly, much of the change involves the demolition of buildings of historical interest – so-called ‘heritage’ structures.

So, it is wonderful to come across residences (bungalows) that have been standing for many years. Some of these bungalows appear neglected and will most likely be demolished soon to make way for architecturally indistinguishable office blocks and blocks of flats. Others are still being used as homes and can be seen in varying conditions of repair. And, fortunately, some have been beautifully restored and are either being used as dwellings or for a new purpose.

2 Berlie Street

One of the restored bungalows is number 2 Berlie Street in Langford Town. It is now being used as an art space (for exhibitions) by an organisation called Kaash. We visited it today (22nd November 2024) to view a temporary exhibition about contemporary designs of devotional objects, mainly diyas (oil lamps used on Hindu ceremonies) and also some almost abstract depictions of Devi created by Jayshree Poddar. The artworks were tastefully displayed in some of the rooms in the Bungalow. The other rooms contained folk art from various countries in Africa.

It would be great if most of the remaining heritage bungalows could be preserved, but this is unlikely because the land on which they stand can be sold for enormous sums of money.

All of the photos are of Kaash in Berlie Street unless otherwise labelled.