Art on the Metro, say what?

Our sutradhaars wonder if the newly-made stations along the Metro III line will continue to look like dull, uninspiring spaces or if they can expect arty, vibrant makeovers to celebrate their surroundings

Now that the weather had improved, and the rain clouds didn’t threaten so much, Sir PM felt brave enough to suggest returning to the Cooperage Bandstand for his weekly adda sessions with Lady Flora. He was too embarrassed to say it out loud but he missed his friend and walking companion for two weeks. She had been away for a Parisian break with her cousins from the Isles.

“Ah! There you are my dear Pheroze,” exclaimed Lady Flora from afar. She looked refreshed after her holiday; Sir PM could tell. “So good to see you. You’ve lost weight…everything okay?” she enquired, as she pushed a brown paper bag filled with chocolates into her friend’s hand. He peeped into it and thanked his friend. “Tell me all. How was Paris? What new experiences did you discover?” Sir PM was curious. His friend was more than happy to share her bagful of insights and moments from what was her fifth visit to the city.

The duo chatted for an hour, under one of the canopies, as the soft light of the October evening sky made for a pleasant setting. “The Louvre was on top of my list, Pheroze, and as you’d vouch for, it was spectacular. Even that word doesn’t do justice to the displays and galleries. But what struck me, particularly this time, was the Louvre-Rivoli Metro station that I used to get back and forth from the museum. I was speechless. I learnt from my cousin Grace that decades ago, in the late 1960s, the then Ministry of Culture had initiated the idea of transforming the station into an antechamber of the museum. As I stepped in and out, I was treated to stunning works of art—all copies—of the art from the museum. There is no advertising, and instead, there are displays of exhibits. All I could do after those few visits—yes, one trip simply isn’t enough, especially since I was visiting after decades—is compare notes with what we saw recently on that first ride on Metro III.”

Sir PM knew what was coming. “And let me guess… you were disappointed at what we witnessed here. The grey, dull interiors that resemble stainless steel mini ecosystems; in fact, I suspect that the air-conditioners and the still-clean surroundings are the big gains at our stations. Though I read that the ridership isn’t as high as they had anticipated. Forget about art, and comparing it to that amazing Louvre station, I don’t recall seeing trash bins or the even more important, spittoons. Heaven help us if those paan and tobacco-eating monsters begin their spitting marathons.” Lady Flora was frowning, and it had covered most of her face. “I overheard from my pedestal that even the escalators weren’t up to the mark at the BKC station. And here I was, imagining that art would be showcased to give some character to the otherwise-factory-like ambiance. Surely, we are way cooler than this. We gave talented artists and photographers whose works can be displayed on a rotation basis. All those years ago, while travelling on the Calcutta Metro, I noticed theme-driven art on the facades of the underground stations—Rabindra Sadan had Santiniketan-inspired art while the Maidan station had illustrations to represent sporting disciplines.”

Sir PM interrupted his friend, hesitantly, “Our expectations have hit the roof. Let’s be practical. You and I are already aware of the teething issues. So, I think it would be prudent to take small steps, expectations-wise. Sure, we feel that art will lighten up the experience and some inspired souls will realise that these stations could do with colour and character. The Calcutta Metro is an apt example. We must commend those Bengalis when it comes to promoting their city’s highlights! We could easily depict the mangroves for BKC station, and Warli art for the Aarey station to salute these resilient inhabitants who live inside the National Park,” he smiled.

Lady Flora knew it was wishful thinking. Deep down both friends were aware that Bombaywallahs wanted the basics right, for starters. Art can wait. But at some level, this miss, they felt, reflects the general apathy towards arts and culture in the city’s everyday existence. If it ‘is upgrading’—as the tagline goes—a culturally rich and diverse city like ours surely deserves better than uninspiring, template-driven stations.

mid-day’s Features Editor Fiona Fernandez relishes the city’s sights, sounds, smells and stones...wherever the ink and the inclination takes her. She tweets @bombayana

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