Demystifying Katputli Colony

I had grown up on fables and fairy tales but never had I witnessed the magic that these fables spoke about. The magic that connects people, overcoming barriers of cast and class; magic that transcends obstacles that stand in the way of opportunities; magic that breaks the shackles of poverty and rises above all odds so that all that is witnessed are smiles. Smiles on the faces of the little children who watch spellbound as the anarkali dances to the tunes of her “Sutradhar”.

I witnessed this magic in the Kathputli Colony, Shadipur. I entered the narrow lanes for the first time, a little apprehensive; excited but anxious. I had heard so much about the alleys of Kathputli Colony. But all that I had heard or read can never equal the experience of being in that place. The puppeteers welcomed us so warmly. They smiled at us, offered tea; I was already won over by the hospitality. The vibrance of the Kathputli Colony was infectious. Every house here had an artist: a puppeteer, a fire-breather, a sword swallower.

These artists possessed talent that is unparalleled. Some of them have represented our country abroad. They have travelled around the world showcasing their art. They have received national awards and yet they return to the Kathputli Colony. They have potential that deserves a lot more recognition, yet they live on the margins, barely surviving on loans in their lean season. But they live together. Thousands of families: Hindus, Muslims; Rajasthanis, Marathis: they all live together. But alas! Even that privilege will soon be snatched. Their Colony will be demolished. Their land has been sold. And the place where they have spent all their lives, where they learnt all their lessons, where they laughed, where they cried, they made friends, they witnessed the best moments of their lives: that place will be snatched!

And our artists, the preservers of our culture will be “rehabilitated” to an area which is currently a dump yard.

Maybe magic does exist only in fairy tales. The most magical place I have ever witnessed will no longer be a reality. Every day the fear of eviction daunts the artists. They haven’t been promised anything in writing till now and they face the nightmare of being homeless, they face the fear of being separated.

I now visit the Kathputli Colony and the lanes are silent. The sounds of the dhols and drums, the music is replaced by an unfamiliar, a peculiar silence. 

Ironical how the residents of this colony have travelled the world and earned respect but they still won’t have a home to come back to, a place to live in. I wonder: Didn't they deserve a house in their own city?

- Swarnima Gupta