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Remembering Jim Masselos, a Historian With a Unique Sensibility
Remembering Jim Masselos, a Historian With a Unique Sensibility

The Wire

time9 hours ago

  • Politics
  • The Wire

Remembering Jim Masselos, a Historian With a Unique Sensibility

History An urban sociologist reminisces on her 40-year friendship with the Australian who contributed to understanding the urban cultures that organised early and mid-20th century Bombay/Mumbai. Jim Masselos (1940-2025) passed away in a Sydney hospital on Tuesday, June 24, 2025. I knew that the end was near; I had talked to him twice in April and realised that his energy was fading and he was taking longer to converse and yet it is difficult to believe that he is no more. In April, we talked about the terror attack in Pahalgam, the changing geopolitics in the world and US president Donald Trump's attack on academia. He was also sad about what was happening to South Asian scholarship in Australia and yet hopeful that the tide would soon turn as young people realise how important it is to do academic work and research on South Asia. I first met Jim in the early 1980s but knew of him before through a childhood friend Navaz Patuck : the Patuck family home in Pali Hill being an open house to so many passing foreigners who came to Bombay. I distinctly remember our first encounter at Samovar, the iconic restaurant at Jehangir Art Gallery. I was doing a doctorate on Ahmedabad's early history and its textile industry and wanted to discuss the parallel trends between the two cities of Bombay and Ahmedabad, both being framed by this industry. Our conversations soon drifted elsewhere because M.F. Hussain was sitting somewhere nearby (for long Samovar was Hussain's haunt). It allowed Jim to start talking about Bombay's culture and the contribution of the progressive movement in art to its history. Did this happen in Ahmedabad and if not, why not, he asked? Since then, we met almost every time he came to India and our paths criss-crossed either in Mumbai or Delhi and sometimes in Kolkata and Hyderabad. Our meetings increased because by then we had a mutual friend in Alice Thorner, another constant visitor and a lover of the city of Mumbai. Our conversations (sometimes with Alice) always drifted towards comprehending the history of the city, Bombay's cultural scene, its immersion in its version of modernity and its cosmopolitan ambience, together with vigilante politics and unplanned urban growth. What did these trends have to do with post-colonial nationalism, we wondered. High tide at Girgaon Chowpatty in Mumbai, Friday, June 27, 2025. Photo: PTI. Jim arrived in India as part of the Colombo Plan which gave scholarships to those who wanted to study in the newly independent countries of Asia – he was one of the first Australians who took this opportunity, travelled to Bombay and completed a doctorate at Bombay University on nationalist ideas in Bombay. He stayed at the Bombay University's hostel at B. Road, Churchgate and met up with many who were studying at that time in Bombay university. Most of these students became his friends and he kept in touch with them over the next four decades as they traversed their own careers as Bombay's and India's politicians, lawyers and intellectuals – part of the newly mobile group educating themselves under the Nehruvian project of the making of modern India. Over time, I met some of them because Jim had a great gift for keeping relationships and learning the current history of India through their eyes. During his early years in Bombay, Jim would walk around the city and discover its nooks and corners and the various neighbourhood settlements of distinct communities living in the city. As we know, this cultivated gaze impacted his historical work (which he later analysed as the intersections between space, identity and community) and allowed him to give us, the readers an insight into urban neighbourhood cultures. Also read: Remembering Jim Masselos, the Australian Scholar of Bombay's Social History In a recent assessment, Prashant Kidambi (2019) has suggested that Jim's distinctive contribution to Bombay's historiography can be understood at four levels. Not only did he document ways in which urban communities were historically reconstituted in the modern city but emphasised how they used their own tools of modernity to do so. Second, Jim highlighted significance of urban space in understanding the city and third, focused on how diverse forms of power have structured social relations in the city. And finally, he has also been concerned with how one form of power – nationalism – sought to acquire and exercise hegemony in the city, sometimes to its detriment. But Jim, through these travels across the city, also became a collector of old books and that of old and new art as it was being in fashioned in Bombay. He learnt not only to become an archivist but also an art historian and a curator of art exhibitions. In the course of his walks across south Mumbai, he started collecting old books sold on the pavements of Flora Fountain and over time accumulated publications not only of late 19th and early 20th century British and Indian authors but also official government reports on the history of the city and on India. When I visited him in Sydney for the first time in the mid-90s, I realised that he had collected colonial documents which included almost all the Royal Commission Reports published by the British. His home had become a make-shift archive and in case anyone wanted to navigate around the rooms in his house, one had to skip and jump over these piles of books lying on the floor and find a comfortable sofa/chair that was empty of such publications. That being difficult, we would end up sitting in his kitchen or conversing at a southeast Asian restaurant at the corner of the street. (Jim was trying to donate this collection of books to a library in Sydney. However, this seemed to be the wrong time – not only was South Asian history/studies not popular in Australia but with a lack of physical space and ongoing digitalisation, no library-administrator was interested in accepting these late 19th century and early 20th century primary sources on India). But most significantly, what was important was the art he collected as he visited the galleries sponsoring the progressive painters in the city and which he collated as he travelled around the country. He had Catholic tastes and his collection included Kutchi embroidery, pichwai, miniature paintings, a dancing Nataraj and the artwork of the Bombay progressive artist Tyeb Mehta, for example. This artwork was depicted prominently across all the available wall space in his home. Thus, in addition to being an archive, his home had become an art gallery! (Later he also collected some Australian Indigenous paintings and hung them up with the Indian paintings). 'Dancing to the Flute - Music and Dance in Indian Art'. Jim had an exhibition of the art in his collection at the Art Gallery of New South Wales in the mid-90s. The catalogue was called Dancing to the Flute: Music and Dance in the Art of India. (In the last decade, he has donated some of these paintings to the NSW gallery, but these lie in the basement!) During this exhibition, he also organised a seminar on four decades of social science scholarship on India, giving us a lens on how he combined art and social sciences in one persona. It is then that I came to realise that Jim was also an enthusiastic art curator and his understanding of Indian art led him to collaborate with the journal Marg and the noted art historian B. N. Goswamy. In the late 2000s he brought groups of Australians to introduce them to India's art heritage and his understanding of it. For the conference in the mid-1990s, he pushed me to write an essay on M.N. Srinivas's contribution to Indian sociology. This was what started me on my project to study the disciplinary history of sociology in India, which still continues. During this Sydney visit, I also discovered that Jim was a brilliant photographer. I had noticed him taking photographs earlier, but when I saw the photographs on his computer, I realised that he had brought his unique historical sensibility to his photographs. Since then, Jim has brought out two volumes on photographs combining company photographs with his own current ones in a then and now text: Bombay Then and Now and Beato's Delhi (text written with Delhi historian Narayani Gupta). In the early 1990s, Alice brought to me a project to put together a conference on Bombay. The idea, she said, came from Jim who during a breakfast conversation at Delhi's India International Centre, asked how an urban historian should write about contemporary Bombay. This led to the organisation of a conference on Bombay in December 1992 and the publication of two volumes – Bombay: Mosaic of Modern Culture and Bombay: Metaphor of Modern India. Jim wrote a paper for the second volume. But even as we were preparing the two books for publication, we (Alice, Jim and I) knew that Bombay had changed fundamentally after the 1992-93 riots and that we needed to capture the recent changes. With Alice passing away, Jim and I put together a third volume titled Bombay and Mumbai: The City in Transition. Recently, when the published fourth volume reached him, Jim stated that he had not realised that his innocent question of what it means to write on contemporary Bombay as an urban historian would lead to four volumes on the city. Jim's contribution to scholarship was quiet but significant. Never to brag about himself, he was a soft and gentle scholar/person full of generosity for others. After Rachel Dwyer, Prashant Kidambi and Manjiri Kamat put together a Festschrift, a volume on his honour ('Bombay before Mumbai' in 2019) and Robert Aldrich organised a conference around his scholarship in Sydney in February 2020, I saw a satisfied expression on his face and in his body language, a sense of pride and fulfilment that his colleagues had honoured him and acknowledged his contributions. Characteristically, he gave a sheepish smile and silently accepted the accolades that they bestowed upon him. That was Jim. Urban sociologist Sujata Patel retired as Professor of Sociology from the University of Hyderabad in 2018. Patel and Masselos collaborated to edit a volume on Bombay, one of four volumes that Patel has co-edited on the city. The Wire is now on WhatsApp. Follow our channel for sharp analysis and opinions on the latest developments.

Book Box: Mena Malgavkar's Artistic Alchemy: Turning Mumbai's Corners Into Collectibles
Book Box: Mena Malgavkar's Artistic Alchemy: Turning Mumbai's Corners Into Collectibles

Hindustan Times

time10-05-2025

  • Entertainment
  • Hindustan Times

Book Box: Mena Malgavkar's Artistic Alchemy: Turning Mumbai's Corners Into Collectibles

Dear Reader, Amidst all the tense talks of war, I find a quiet spot. A blaze of blue and yellow before me is Zubeida Mahal. Beside me, the Parel Railway Colony. And in the distance, a fisherman's boat floats gently on a light blue sea. I am in Jehangir Art Gallery, in the heart of Mumbai's Art Deco district, taking in artist Mena Malgavkar's stories of the city. Her works—a mix of acrylics, watercolors, and pen-and-ink sketches—capture Mumbai's little moments: laundry strung across balconies, the glint of a kirana store's jars, ancient doorways and wrought iron balconies. Here in this peaceful little art gallery—a quaint space that was once the café Samovar—I drink in views of my city: It's a city I've lived in for thirty years, where my children grew up, and where beloved old buildings now suddenly vanish, replaced by towers named Arcadia or Beverly Heights. In this gallery I see glimpses of a city that is disappearing before our eyes - a man sitting at Bhuleshwar Hardware Shop with sacks of rice and lentils, his wife behind glass jars of snacks; electricity wires trailing across the skyline; a goat at College Lane, Prabhadevi. Admiring these views are the whole cross section of visitors that walk into Mumbai's most prestigious art gallery - among them today, two college students, a family with a young mother and three children, an old man with a walking stick—each taking in the Mumbai scenes. Also Read | Book Box | Reading without rules Mena, whom I've known since she arrived in Bombay as the newlywed wife of our friend Ravi, previously worked in advertising at agencies like Rediff and Mudra. These days she teaches design at Atlas University and École Intuit in Mumbai and exhibits her works in shows in India and abroad, including Paris, Dubai and Qatar. Today we sit on a bench in the gallery facing a canvas entitled 'Lower Parel'. We chat about the literary influences that shaped Mena's art - everything from Heidi to horror! Here are edited excerpts of our conversation- How did your childhood reading influence you? My mother was a heavy reader; my father did not have the time. Dad was a large-scale farmer. I'd trail him to our fields in Jagalbet, Karnataka, with books tucked under my arm. During one sugarcane harvest, I remember staying away from the labourers' sickles and the sharp sugarcane leaves, reading Heidi in a quiet spot in the grass. Mum never came to such outings. She rarely stepped out of the house on foot. She was quite regal like that. She read loads—I remember she once went through a horror phase. We had a shelf of horror books with titles like The Screaming Skull, Something Wicked Comes This Way, Tales to Keep You Awake, etc. She also read all of Agatha Christie, James Hadley Chase, Erle Stanley Gardner, Sidney Sheldon—anything pacy. She wrote three novels in Marathi, one of which won the state award. We rarely bought books, but every year, the Russian book fair by Progress Publishers came to Belgaum, and we'd pick up books like Alyonushka and the Magic Swan Geese and other Russian folk tales. I also had a cousin who had a stock of imported books, and I was lucky to borrow books like Blackie's Girls' Annual, Radio Fun Annual, Best Stories for Girls—and, of course, all the Enid Blyton ones were favourites. When did you discover your artistic calling? At four, I failed to draw cats from the cover of an oil-pastel box. Then my mum drew it effortlessly for me. She was an artist and had a wonderful hand but no opportunities. In those days, being one of seven siblings in a small town like Karwar meant you were lucky to get an education. Growing up, I became obsessed with the marketplace. I sketched women and girls going to the market—on whatever paper I could salvage. How did your uncle, the novelist Manohar Malgaonkar, influence you? His short stories opened my eyes to the unseen. At eleven, I marvelled at a saree described as 'fig-shade' (anjeer). Combat of Shadows, his novel of life in a tea estate, sharpened my eye for human quirks and the power of tiny details. What was the inspiration for this series ? When I moved to Mumbai almost two decades ago, I was overwhelmed by the traffic, the people, the sheer energy of this city. But soon the vibe of this hurrying, jostling, work oriented city captivated me. I started going for long walks on Sunday mornings, exploring little lanes, areas and markets. And that's how I saw these chawls - space crunched tenements, some run down, some well maintained, all fully occupied. I wanted to get to know them. Online searches got me glimpses of the stories they carried-some heartbreaking, others hopeful. I started looking for ways to meet the residents who lived there, to hear their stories. With this series, I have only scratched the surface- there's so much more to explore. Your paintings of the old Mumbai buildings, specially the pen and ink sketches have incredible and evocative detailing. How did you get this effect ? Step into a chawl and the city slows down. You hear it differently - the clang of vessels from tiny kitchens, a radio humming old Hindi songs , kids chasing each other across narrow corridors. Mornings spill into shared verandas, where neighbours exchange glances and gossip, and the smell of frying onions drifts lazily through iron grills. Clothes flutter across balconies, welcoming life in all its chaotic ordinariness. I made friends who live here. People who opened their homes to me with warmth and generosity. It's lives like these, lived in tiny spaces yet fully lived, that I try to tell in my paintings. Did any books about Mumbai inspire you? I chanced upon a lovely book by Meher Marfatia called Once upon a City, which had lots of details about Bombay as it used to be. Also Paul Fernandes' Coastline, which has bits of old Bombay, and an old Marathi book by Arun Puranik called Haravaleli Mumbai. These set the tone for the kind of Mumbai I am trying to capture. Tell us about designing a book cover? A friend used an existing painting of mine—a landscape near Mumbai—for the cover of her book Miss Samuel: A Jewish-Indian Saga. The quickest project of my career. As someone who teaches design, what are your go-to books? The Design of Everyday Things (Norman), Design as Art (Munari), and Thinking with Type (Lupton). And anything on my favourite designer Herb Lubalin. Does your family share your reading passion? When we were newly married, Ravi was going on a long business trip and asked me for a big book to take on the flights. I gave him Snow Falling on Cedars. He came back with three other books—he'd found my recommendation unreadable! But we both love Wodehouse and Vikram Seth. Our daughter Devyani trades recommendations with me—she gave me The Marriage Portrait; I gave her The Humans. Final picks—books on art that inspire you? • Leonardo da Vinci (Isaacson) • Lust for Life (Stone) • Amrita Sher-Gil: A Life (Dalmia) • Madhav Satwalekar (Jyotsna Prakashan) …. As the gallery prepares to close for the day, I step out into the evening, my mind abuzz with reflections. News alerts about escalating hostilities between India and Pakistan—drones, missiles, blackouts—flicker on my phone, casting a somber shadow. Yet, amidst this turmoil, the art I've just experienced offers a poignant reminder: in such times of uncertainty, it is creativity that endures, preserving the stories and memories that define us. Which Mumbai artists or writers best capture the city's changing soul for you? (Sonya Dutta Choudhury is a Mumbai-based journalist and the founder of Sonya's Book Box, a bespoke book service. Each week, she brings you specially curated books to give you an immersive understanding of people and places. If you have any reading recommendations or suggestions, write to her at sonyasbookbox@ The views expressed are personal) Get 360° coverage—from daily headlines to 100 year archives.

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