Diwali 2024: When the gift becomes a cherished memory

A PIECE OF FAMILY HISTORY
 

Manisha Gera Baswani, artist | Gurugram

This Diwali, I have gifted myself something—rather, I have urged my parents to grant me a wish, the most precious one by far. They are at that age—my father, O.P. Gera is 92 and mother, Versha, is 84—when they don’t want anything for themselves. The reverse also holds true; I don’t want to receive much. In such a scenario, pieces of family history become so important. Earlier this month, I got a stamp pad and held my parents’ fingers to get an imprint of them. Of course, their imprint is in everything—in every cell of one’s body and in everything one does, but I wanted a physical imprint of them in my life. I used a normal government-style stamp pad, a conscious decision as they were officially giving me their fingerprint. I have taken the impressions on a watercolour sheet as well. This is what I would carry with me for years to come.

I eventually see it becoming a part of my art in sync with my practice of looking at memory and history. My work is increasingly shifting to the idea of home, loss and celebration of family.

When it comes to giving gifts, I can not apply the same principles that hold true for me. I would like people to say “get me a sapling, and that would be meaningful" but that is something that happens with time, when you feel you don’t want more.

—As told to Avantika Bhuyan

FRIENDSHIP AS THE BIGGEST GIFT OF ALL
 

Bijal Vachharajani, children's author and editor | Bengaluru

For the longest time, grief robbed me of reading. Reading is what I do. It’s the one skill I have. Books made me a writer and an editor. And then, along with my losses, this one too racked up. As always, friends are superheroes without capes. Deepanjana took me to Lightroom Bookstore, run by another friend, Aashti. She got me Chris Riddell’s Doodle-a-Day, “something to draw, colour in or create for every day of the year". I balked. I gave up drawing after I was bullied as a young person. Doodles I could do, as Deepanjana pointed out pragmatically.

I listened to music and drew—27 February, I drew many pictures of the person I lost—2 January, 14 October, 20 November; I conjured up the monsters that gnawed at me— September 6 and 11 April; and made lots of cakes and strange creatures—2 March, 24 June, 12 December. I finished a year of doodles, prodded by friends, Aparna and Saki. The days were a blur, but it had been a relief to just do as instructed and not think. I put the book away. I dusted it recently and looked at my shaky doodles. I found a note tucked into the book—a letter from Yamini and Vinayak accompanying a set of colours. The gift was there when I needed it. Like my friends.

—As told to Avantika Bhuyan

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BLOWING BUBBLES
 

Kalyani Saha Chawla, founder, Rezon Luxury Silverware | Delhi

My daughter gave me a cute sculpture from Dhruvi Acharya one Christmas. It’s like a face with a bubble blowing. When she gave it to me, she said, “Mumma, you speak a lot, so this is perfect for you." I used to blow bubbles a lot when I was a kid, and told her this. Another present I cherish is the Tagore painting that’s hanging in my living room. My parents gave it to me for my 40th birthday; it was theirs. I grew up looking at that painting, showing a cluster of women, and thought it was ominous, full of pain... I had grown up hearing stories of sati. Few years later, when I was in my 30s, I told my mom how I felt about the painting, and she asked me, “What does it say to you?". In that very moment, my perspective changed. Maybe it was because of the way she said it or smiled, or maybe because of what was going on in my personal life, I realised that painting was about women supporting women. This is what life teaches you: Perspective changes with where you are in life.

The rules of gift giving are pretty simple: thoughtful and meaningful that can fit in a person’s life, in their house, office, wardrobe, anywhere. Since everything is automated now, I am mindful of sending handwritten notes, by me, not someone else, along with my gift, even if they are flowers.

—As told to Pooja Singh

A DANCE TO REMEMBER
 

Shahrom Oshtori, founder-partner, Sixteen33 | Mumbai

It was the last day of my job as the director of food and beverage at the hotel Sofitel in Mumbai. When I walked into the lobby that leads to my office, there were 18 managers and assistant managers standing, and suddenly they broke into a choreographed flash mob-style dance to the song Tere Jaisa Yaar Kahan. There were smiles and tears all around. Although some of them worked late at night, they turned up early in the morning just for that dance. They coordinated with my wife to plan my timings and executed it flawlessly.

For me, the most memorable and priceless gift is this gesture by my former team who is as close as family till date. In the hotel business, teams spend long hours together and we form deep bonds. Gift giving or gestures to make each other feel special is not out of the ordinary. I remember one of my former colleagues wanted a particular pink tie. In hotels, we have an obsession for matching pink ties with white shirts and suits for a suave look. This colleague kept delaying the purchase and I decided to gift it. Even today, whenever he wears that tie, he sends a selfie.

—As told to Jahnabee Borah

A SPONTANEOUS EXCHANGE
 

Siddhant Shah, heritage consultant, access consultant and founder, Access for All | Mumbai

Recently, I was in Zurich for the exhibition, Ragamala: Pictures for All Senses, at the Museum Rietberg, working on tactile aids based on the paintings. I met a Pakistani filmmaker, Jawad Sharif, who had created films and visual documentation related to the show, which featured work and projects by people from both sides of the border. He would wear really fascinating scarves each day. One featured lines from Manto’s books, another had Arabic letters in calligraphy. As I marvelled at the calligraphy, he took it off his neck and handed it to me, saying, “yeh le lijiye aap (please take this)". It was a spontaneous gesture. I was wearing a jacket made of recycled kantha sarees, created by women craftspersons from Bengal. I gave it to him.

That moment—a sudden unplanned exchange of gifts—was really beautiful. That scarf with the calligraphy had nostalgic value for Jawad, and for him to part with it was touching. That spontaneity of being ready to part with something that held memory, of placing people and connections over things, it was so meaningful. We also made a new memory—he is travelling around wearing that jacket. If I could make this spontaneity part of every gift I give, it would be wonderful.

—As told to Avantika Bhuyan

THE GREAT SAFARI
 

Vikram Goyal, revivalist and product designer | Delhi

Just before covid, two close friends, a couple, called and said, “We are going on a safari to Tanzania, and you are coming with us. We are not hearing “no" because we’ve already booked everything for you." Two weeks later, we were at the Mwiba Lodge; this was my first safari trip. Luckily, and this was not planned, we had landed at the time of the great migration. It was breathtaking—hundreds of animals, bisons, zebras, running in a cloud of dust. It was like a movie scene. I wasn’t too much into the outdoors but after that weeklong trip my relationship with nature completely changed.

When it comes to giving, I am fascinated by the Indian history of myths, fables and beliefs. So I like to gift tokens of protection, good health and prosperity like an evil eye, a conch shell, or a sculpture of Gajasimha (a mythical creature that’s a cross between lion and elephant).

—As told to Pooja Singh

A COMIC INTERLUDE
 

Richa Maheshwari, founder of Boito | Bengaluru

One of my favourite memories goes back to a long train journey from Gorakhpur to Bhubaneswar. I was 12, travelling with my mum and brother. While the upper berth was my happy escape—perfect for reading and sleeping—surviving those two days required entertainment. At the station, I spotted two Archie comics, each costing ₹28. Mum said, “Let’s just buy one." Reluctantly, I agreed. Just as the train was about to leave, my mama, who had come to see us off, slipped the second comic into my hand through the window. That small act of kindness still sticks with me. Someone noticed what could make all the difference, and did it.

A gift, for me, is a way of showing someone I truly see them—what brings them joy, what touches them. When it comes from that place, gifting is fun, thoughtful, and never a chore.

—As told to Shrabonti Bagchi

LIFE IN WATERCOLOURS
 

Vinita Chaitanya, interior designer | Bengaluru

A few years ago, I started following an artist, S. J. Axelby, on Instagram because I was fascinated by her use of watercolours, especially since she created room interiors. One day, out of the blue, she reached out to me via a DM and asked if she could use a photograph that was on my Instagram page. It was an image of a corner in my living space. She painted that image and asked for my permission to publish it in her book on room portraits. Later, she sent me the original painting. I keep it on my table. It’s the most lovely gift I have ever received—and we haven’t ever met.

When it comes to giving gifts, I generally think about the things the person would love but wouldn’t indulge in themselves. Recently, I bought a vintage Mother Mary for a friend from a thrift store in Mumbai. She has a spiritual side and I knew it would have meaning for her.

—As told to Pooja Singh