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The beautiful “Udein Jab Jab Zulfein Teri” from B.R. Chopra's Naya Daur (1957) feels open‑ended, almost timeless, because it draws from folklore and the rhythms of village life. In this clip, Ravikant, Professor, CSDS, examines the folk‑inflected melody of the duet by Mohammed Rafi and Asha Bhosle, with Sahir Ludhianvi's lyrics and O.P. Nayyar's music. On the surface, the song is a romantic number between the main leads, Dilip Kumar and Vyjayanthimala but the song sits inside a film whose central fear is that of people losing their jobs when machines arrive. Ravikant likens this anxiety with the current state of affairs wherein the threat of AI looms large in our lives. Against that backdrop, this song becomes more than just a romantic number. It becomes an expression of people's power and dignity, a celebration of the community that is sustained by labour and solidarity. This discussion was part of the series 'Deconstructing the Film Song: A Musical Glue for Nation-Building,' presented by the Tuli Research Centre for India Studies (T.R.I.S) as part of the 7th Self-Discovery via Rediscovering India Festival.

V. Shantaram's film about prisoners, reform and second chances, Do Aankhen Barah Haath (1957), gives us the bhajan “Aye Maalik Tere Bande Ham,” which transcended the film to become an integral part of school prayers. Composed by Vasant Desai in a simple, hummable Bhairavi, with Bharat Vyas's lyrics carrying a strong moral core, the song exists in two versions, as a male chorus building a community of voices, and Lata Mangeshkar's solo, where her voice carries a frailty the male version never attempts. Presented here is a glimpse from the session 'Deconstructing the Film Song: A Musical Glue for Nation-Building,' in which Shikha Jhingan, Associate Professor, Cinema Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University, examines the two versions of the song, the community built through its chorus, and Shantaram's German Expressionist play of light and darkness that accompanies the lyrics of the song. Together, these elements explain why the song remains woven into everyday Indian life. This session was part of the series 'Deconstructing the Film Song: A Musical Glue for Nation-Building,' presented by the Tuli Research Centre for India Studies (T.R.I.S.) as part of the 7th Self-Discovery via Rediscovering India Festival.

When does a gathering become a force capable of changing history? In Demonstrators, Krishna Reddy captures the energy of student protest through a dense field of rising forms. Figures emerge with arms raised, their bodies gathering into the rhythm of a crowd. Layered colours and deeply worked lines evoke movement, tension and solidarity. Reddy created the work in Paris in 1968, amid student demonstrations, university occupations and workers' strikes. He witnessed people questioning authority and demanding political, social and cultural freedom. Many also consider this protest and the ideas associated with it as a pivotal moment to help further define the birth of postmodernism. This experience shaped his image of a crowd entering public space and asserting its collective voice. A pioneering modern printmaker, Reddy helped develop viscosity printing at Atelier 17, enabling several colours to be printed from a single plate. In Demonstrators, colours meet, surfaces resist and forms rise from the plate, mirroring the pressure of protest. The exhibition also presents Reddy's 1968-69 Demonstrators in synthetic resin, translating raised arms and closely gathered bodies into sculptural form. Together, the works explore the shared energy of protest across printmaking and sculpture. Within SWARAJ: Revisualising India's Political History, these works extend self-rule beyond national independence. Swaraj lives in the courage to question authority, participate in public life and imagine a more equitable society. Demonstrators reminds us that political change can begin when individual convictions gather into a shared demand for transformation. Artwork 1: Demonstrators Artist: Krishna Reddy Medium: Coloured engraving on paper Date: 1968 Artwork 2: Demonstrators Artist: Krishna Reddy Medium: Synthetic Resin Date: 1968-69

Madan Mahatta's photographs of 36 architectural models belong to a period when India was giving physical form to the ambitions of a newly independent nation. From the 1950s through the 1980s, new universities, research centres, government offices, housing and cultural institutions were being planned across the country. Architects experimented with new materials, technologies and forms, while models became an important means of developing and presenting ideas before construction. Born in Srinagar in 1932, Mahatta came from the Mahatta family of photographers and studied photography at the Guildford School of Art and Crafts in England. Returning to India in 1954, he worked from the family's New Delhi studio, Mahatta & Co., developing a practice spanning commercial, industrial, architectural and documentary photography. From the 1950s onwards, Mahatta photographed architects including Habib Rahman, Achyut P. Kanvinde, Joseph Allen Stein, Charles Correa, Raj Rewal, Kuldip Singh, Ram Sharma, Ranjit Sabhiki and Jasbir Sawhney. Their work reflects the changing vocabulary of post-Independence Indian architecture, from International Modernism and functionalism to Brutalism, Structural Expressionism and Critical Regionalism. The 36 models bring this architectural imagination into focus, revealing how architects explored massing, structure, circulation, geometry, landscape and the relationship between building and city. Alongside his photographs of completed buildings, Mahatta's model photography preserves architecture at the stage of conception, when ideas were still being tested and given form.

How did Sudhir Patwardhan bring marginalised lives within the modern city into public view? In “Overbridge” (1981) four people coincide upon a pedestrian bridge. This wonderfully large pencil drawing preceded Patwardhan's oil painting of the same title. Two men walk with their arms across each other's shoulders, suggesting that very Indian form of camaraderie within every city. A solitary man faces us Kafkaesque like, while a veiled woman at the edge appears marked by illness, possibly leprosy, and exclusion. Patwardhan observes them as they truly are, as stoic rather than heroic subjects. Created amid social and economic change, Overbridge reflects urban alienation and marginalisation. Subaltern Studies was also taking shape, bringing lives excluded from dominant histories into focus. Patwardhan similarly gives overlooked urban subjects visibility and dignity. Trained as a doctor, Patwardhan works as a radiologist in Thane alongside his self-taught artistic practice. Encounters with commuters, labourers and patients shape his urban realism, a genuinely empathic expression of our people and their daily grind endured with grace and resilience, but not romanticised. Within SWARAJ: Revisualising India's Political History Exhibition, the drawing asks how freedom is experienced at society's margins, placing dignity, recognition and companionship at the heart of Swaraj. Artwork: Overbridge (1981), Pencil Drawing on paper Artist: Sudhir Patwardhan

The Indian Emergency (1975-77) was a 21-month period during which Prime Minister Indira Gandhi's government suspended civil liberties, censored the press and concentrated extraordinary power in the executive. Declared on the night of 25 June 1975, it followed a period of political unrest, economic difficulties and growing opposition to the Congress government. On the eve of the Emergency, leaders including Jayaprakash Narayan, Morarji Desai, Atal Bihari Vajpayee, L. K. Advani, George Fernandes and Charan Singh were arrested under the Maintenance of Internal Security Act. When elections were finally announced in January 1977, the opposition united as the Janata Party. Its victory in the subsequent election brought the first non-Congress government to power at the Centre, making the Emergency a lasting reminder of both the fragility of democratic institutions and the power of political resistance. Seen here are images of: 1: Morarji Desai, Jayaprakash Narayan with Mahatma Gandhi and the message of secular India 2: Vivan Sundaram's Famous Mrs. G (1974) 3: The cover image of Asia's Voice Himmat magazine, Oct 1977 4: Poster of Kissa Kursee Ka (1978)

Salt was an everyday necessity, yet under British rule Indians were prohibited from freely producing or collecting it and were required to pay a tax on it. Gandhi chose salt because its injustice was understood and felt in everyday life. On 12 March 1930, Gandhi and seventy-eight volunteers left Sabarmati Ashram and walked nearly 390 kilometres to Dandi. On 6 April, Gandhi defied the Salt Law by producing salt from seawater, turning an essential commodity into an act of civil disobedience. The action sparked protests across India. People followed suit, while also boycotting foreign-made cloth and liquor, picketing shops and refusing certain taxes. Women, students, youth, merchants, workers and peasants participated in unprecedented numbers, joining processions, making salt, picketing and courting arrest. Their involvement brought the freedom struggle into homes, markets and public spaces. This album of 247 photographs captures the movement's mass character, documenting the crowds, processions and acts of resistance that took the freedom struggle beyond its prominent leaders and into the lives of ordinary people. The British responded with arrests and repression, but civil disobedience continued through 1932. The colonial salt tax was finally abolished in 1946. Today, salt itself remains exempt from GST. From an everyday necessity to a powerful symbol of resistance, salt became one of the defining symbols of India's freedom struggle.

Few frames in Indian cinema signify the quiet devastation as the beam of light in "Waqt Ne Kiya Kya Haseen Sitam" from Guru Dutt's Kaagaz Ke Phool (1959). In 'Deconstructing the Film Song: A Musical Glue for Nation-Building,' panelists Antara Mondal, Ravikant, Madan Gopal Singh, Juhi Sakhlani, and Neville Tuli, trace the visual language of the song and how the quiet cruelty of time runs through both Kaifi Azmi's lyrics and VK Murthy's cinematography. The discussion moves between close readings of the song, its emotional architecture and its enduring presence in popular memory. This session was presented by the Tuli Research Centre for India Studies (T.R.I.S.) as part of the 7th Self-Discovery via Rediscovering India Festival.

"Yeh Duniya Agar Mil Bhi Jaye To Kya Hai" from Guru Dutt's magnum opus Pyaasa (1957), penned by Sahir Ludhianvi, composed by S.D. Burman, and sung by Mohammed Rafi, moves between a deeply personal outcry and a broader socio-political reflection on a world driven by greed and compromise. Ravikant traces the significance of the poet as protagonist across Hindi cinema of the 1950s to 1970s. A figure who carries within himself the tensions between artistic integrity and social pressure, between idealism and disillusionment. Antara Nanda Mondal examines how Guru Dutt's films return repeatedly to a critique of the commodification of art, asking what happens to the artist in a society that measures everything by its material worth. In this song from Pyaasa, that critique finds its most devastating expression. This segment is part of T.R.I.S.' workshop series "A Musical Glue for Nation-Building: Deconstructing the Film Song," featuring Madan Gopal Singh, Ravikant, Antara Nanda Mondal, Juhi Saklani, and Neville Tuli, presented by the Tuli Research Centre for India Studies (T.R.I.S.) at the 7th Self-Discovery via Rediscovering India Festival.

Pyaasa, released in 1957, hurled a question at a then newly independent India, "Jinhe Naaz Hai Hind Par Wo Kahan Hai," and it still hasn't found an answer. This reel is a window into a conversation on Guru Dutt's cinema and the poetry of Sahir Ludhianvi, the lyricist whose words gave the song its unflinching social conscience, set to S.D. Burman's music and sung by Mohammed Rafi. Featuring Madan Gopal Singh, Antara Mondal, Ravikant, Juhi Saklani, and Neville Tuli, the discussion moves between close readings of the song, the emotional architecture built by Guru Dutt through fusing the image and lyrics together, and what it takes to make a song outlast its film. This session was part of the series 'Deconstructing the Film Song: A Musical Glue for Nation-Building,' presented by the Tuli Research Centre for India Studies (T.R.I.S.) as part of the 7th Self-Discovery via Rediscovering India Festival.

"Babuji Dheere Chalna" from Guru Dutt's Aar Paar (1954), composed by O.P. Nayyar and sung by Geeta Dutt, is among one of the most popular songs of Hindi cinema. The conversation among the panelists reveals precisely what makes it stand the test of time. Antara Nanda Mondal points out that the song, through Shyama's performance, reveals a great deal about how society perceives women who live at the fringes, figures who are seen but rarely understood on their own terms. Ravikant notes that many of the artists involved in creating this new cinematic vocabulary were autodidacts, learning as they went and building a musical language through instincts and experimentation rather than formal training. Madan Gopal Singh deconstructs the song's formal structure, identifying the two distinct rhythmic patterns running simultaneously. The stanza and the refrain are clearly differentiated, held apart and brought together through a bridge that gives the song its peculiar tension and momentum. This segment is part of T.R.I.S.' workshop series "A Musical Glue for Nation-Building - Deconstructing the Film Song,"" featuring Madan Gopal Singh, Ravikant, Antara Nanda Mondal, Juhi Saklani, and Neville Tuli, presented by the Tuli Research Centre for India Studies (T.R.I.S.) at the 7th Self-Discovery via Rediscovering India Festival.

Guru Dutt's cinema blended poetic storytelling with visual brilliance tackling the themes of love, identity, an artist's struggle and social disillusionement. This session explores the nuances of his craft through four of his most enduring songs: "Babuji Dheere Chalna" (Aar Paar, 1954), "Jinhe Naaz Hai Hind Par" (Pyaasa, 1957), "Yeh Duniya Agar Mil Bhi Jaye" (Pyaasa, 1957), and "Waqt Ne Kiya Kya Haseen Sitam" (Kaagaz Ke Phool, 1959). While discussing "Jinhe Naaz Hai Hind Par", Juhi Saklani juxtaposes the grandeur of the Indian national anthem and its celebratory descriptions of the nation's landscapes: "Panjaba-Sindha-Gujrata-Maharata- Dravida-Utkala-Vanga, Vindhya-Himachala-Yamuna-Ganga" with the grim reality that Sahir Ludhianvi's lyrics lay bare through: "Ye kooche ye neelam-ghar dilkashi ke... ye sadiyon se bekhauf, sehmi si galiyan." Where the anthem sees glory, the song sees streets centuries-old in their exhaustion, people living at the margins of the very nation being celebrated. Ravikant adds that Sahir poses a direct and piercing question to the powers that be, holding a newly independent government accountable to the promises it made to its most vulnerable citizens. Reflecting on "Waqt Ne Kiya Kya Haseen Sitam," Madan Gopal Singh observes that it is perhaps the only song in Indian cinema where the process of making the song itself becomes a part of what we see on the screen. In "Yeh Duniya Agar Mil Bhi Jaye," Antara Nanda Mondal reads the line "Ye mahalon, ye takhton, ye taajon ki duniya" ("this world of palaces, thrones, and crowns") as an allusion to British rule, suggesting that Guru Dutt saw colonial hierarchies continuing to shape post-Independence India. On "Babuji Dheere Chalna," Antara Nanda Mondal argues that the song offers a remarkably nuanced portrait of a woman living on the fringes of society. In a single sequence, it reveals how such women are often looked at, desired, and judged, yet rarely understood on their own terms. This segment is part of T.R.I.S.' workshop series "A Musical Glue for Nation-Building: Deconstructing the Film Song," featuring Madan Gopal Singh, Ravikant, Antara Nanda Mondal, Juhi Saklani, and Neville Tuli, presented by the Tuli Research Centre for India Studies (T.R.I.S.) at the 7th Self-Discovery via Rediscovering India Festival.

"What does 𝗦𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗷 truly mean? Is freedom achieved at a single historic moment or period, or must self-rule be continually imagined, questioned and renewed? India's journey towards Swaraj was shaped not by one voice or one path, but through reform and resistance, revolution and non-violence, political thought, public protest, art, print, photography, cinema and the collective will of its people. The Tuli Research Centre for India Studies (T.R.I.S.) presents 𝗦𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗝: 𝗥𝗲𝘃𝗶𝘀𝘂𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗜𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗮'𝘀 𝗣𝗼𝗹𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗛𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆, a pioneering exhibition curated by Neville Tuli. Bringing together rare artworks, prints, photographs, books, film publicity art, political propaganda and visual-textual-audio archives, SWARAJ traces India's complex journey towards political self-rule and self-discovery. From early European coastal encounters, the Bengal Renaissance and the First War of Independence in 1857 to the rise of Bharat Mata, the Tiranga, Gandhiji's inspired satyagraha, civil disobedience and mass mobilisation, the exhibition explores how the idea of India was envisioned, contested and transformed. It journeys through revolutionary movements and non-violence, subaltern uprisings, the Partition, the Constitution, the integration of the Princely States, the Emergency, wars, civic dissent and people's protests. It also foregrounds the vital role of artists, photographers, publishers, newspapers, journals, cartoons and cinema in recording and shaping the nation's political consciousness. SWARAJ invites us to encounter history not as something distant or settled, but as a daily living inheritance that continues to influence who we are and how we understand freedom, identity, and ourselves today. Watch the video for a glimpse into this expansive visual journey, and follow the exhibition as it revisualises India's political history through art, image, text and sound.

"Jeena Yahan Marna Yahan" from Mera Naam Joker (1970) was penned by Shailendra, composed by Shankar-Jaikishan, and sung by Mukesh. The song is situated at the philosophical heart of Raj Kapoor's most personal and ambitious film. The film was a commercial disaster on release, and as Neville Tuli notes, both the song and the film found the audiences' acknowledgement only years later. Filmmaker-Lyricist Amit Khanna reveals a lesser-known detail about its making: the song was shot in Delhi at the Gemini Circus, but it had become extremely difficult to gather all the stars, who by that point had become huge in their own careers, at one point of time. The scenes featuring them were shot solo and then later assembled in Bombay to be inserted into the song sequence. Ravikant, Professor, CSDS (The Centre for the Study of Developing Societies), reads the song as both a philosophical and a deeply materialistic reflection on existence. There is a continuity in the persona that may take rebirth, he argues, but it is not the same person who returns. The world itself is one's heaven and hell simultaneously, and that, he suggests, is why we return to this song whenever life demands reflection. This clip is from the workshop "A Musical Glue for Nation-Building: Deconstructing the Film Song," conducted by the Tuli Research Centre for India Studies (T.R.I.S.) at the 7th Self-Discovery via Rediscovering India Festival, featuring Madan Gopal Singh, Amit Khanna, Ravikant, Juhi Saklani, and Neville Tuli.

"Pyar Hua Ikrar Hua" from Shree 420 (1955) at first glance is a song about two people standing in the rain, declaring their love for each other with nothing to their names. This conversation between the panelists peels back the layers, finding in it a richness that a casual listen rarely reveals. Filmmaker-Lyricist Amit Khanna opens with an anecdote about the battle between Raj Kapoor and Shankar-Jaikishan over whether Manna Dey or Mukesh should sing the song. It was Manna Dey who finally got the opportunity, and his voice immortalised it. Ravikant, Professor, CSDS (The Centre for the Study of Developing Societies), draws a parallel between the song and Roland Barthes' A Lover's Discourse, noting how the lovers believe their love to be eternal and absolute. For Ravikant, that sense of transcendence finds its most powerful visual expression when the camera pans to three young children, an image of radiant vitality that lifts the moment beyond the two figures standing in the rain. Composer-Writer Madan Gopal Singh reads the song through a different lens, comparing the condition of the two destitute lovers to that of newly independent India itself, a nation full of longing, uncertain of its footing, but reaching toward something better. This clip is from the workshop "A Musical Glue for Nation-Building: Deconstructing the Film Song" presented by the Tuli Research Centre for India Studies (T.R.I.S.) at the 7th Self-Discovery via Rediscovering India Festival, featuring Madan Gopal Singh, Amit Khanna, Ravikant, Juhi Saklani, and Neville Tuli.

"Ramaiya Vastavaiya" from Shree 420 (1955) is much more than a folk street song. In this clip, the panel unpacks the layers beneath its apparent simplicity. Writer and Cinephile Juhi Saklani reflects on Shailendra's contribution to the building of the Raj Kapoor persona, noting that his lyrics carry a quality of innocence and moral incorruptibility that is, in its own way, a political stance. To sound that guileless in a world of compromise is itself an act of resistance. Ravikant picks up on a related thread, observing that the image of the worker or peasant singing while working, as in this song, is a recurring and almost static theme in Hindi cinema's representation of labouring life. This clip is from the workshop "A Musical Glue for Nation-Building: Deconstructing the Film Song", presented by the Tuli Research Centre for India Studies (T.R.I.S.) at the 7th Self-Discovery via Rediscovering India Festival, featuring Madan Gopal Singh, Amit Khanna, Ravikant and Juhi Saklani in conversation with Neville Tuli.

What exactly is “Awaara Hoon” from Raj Kapoor's Awaara (1951) about? A song that lives inside too many uncertainties keeps asking the question, am I a wanderer, or a star in orbit (Gardish mein hun ya aasman ka taara hoon). There is no home, no belongingness, no clear destiny, only movement, longing, and doubt. It is the sound of a world that's unsure of itself, and still singing joyously. Visually, the influence of Charlie Chaplin is unmistakable. From Raj Kapoor's attire to his tramp's gait, the vagabond persona is shaped by Chaplin's image of the little man buffeted by forces beyond his control. The song turns that figure into a symbol of the post-independence anxiety about entitlement, class, and the future; yet capturing the emotion of being spirited, hopeful, and strangely free. The collaboration of Raj Kapoor, the lyricist Shailendra, composers Shankar–Jaikishan, and singer Mukesh, creates a song that is at once both philosophical and popular. It poses questions about destiny and identity while also reaching millions as an unforgettable film hit. Panelists Amit Khanna, Madan Gopal Singh, Ravikant, Juhi Saklani, and Neville Tuli, examine this iconic song, sung by Mukesh, with lyrics by Shailendra and music by Shankar–Jaikishan in this video from 'A Musical Glue for Nation-Building: Deconstructing the Film Song' session, presented by the Tuli Research Centre for India Studies (T.R.I.S.) at the 7th Self-Discovery via Rediscovering India Festival.

"Raj Kapoor's tramp, the wide-eyed wanderer in oversized clothes and a battered hat, was one of Hindi cinema's most deliberate creative constructions. Borrowed in spirit from Charlie Chaplin but rooted firmly in the anxieties of post-independence India, the figure carried the dreams and displacements of a nation still finding its footing. "Awara Hoon" from Awara (1951) became the song that gave that figure its voice, and its reach was extraordinary. In this clip, the panel discusses how the film introduced Raj Kapoor to audiences across the erstwhile Soviet Union, China and beyond. Composer-Writer Madan Gopal Singh points to ""Ramaiya Vastavaiya"" from Shree 420 (1955) as a moment of genuine creative risk, where Lata Mangeshkar's voice moves the song from a collective street chorus into something laden with intimate individuality. The panel also deconstructs two more songs from Raj Kapoor's career: "Pyar Hua Ikrar Hua" from Shree 420 (1955) and "Jeena Yahan Marna Yahan" from Mera Naam Joker (1970), examining what makes them endure across generations. In the workshop "A Musical Glue for Nation-Building: Deconstructing the Film Song," organised by the Tuli Research Centre for India Studies (T.R.I.S.), Madan Gopal Singh, Juhi Saklani, Ravikant, and Amit Khanna, in conversation with Neville Tuli, explore the lasting appeal of these songs and what they reveal about India's greatest showman's vision of cinema, emotion, and India itself.

In this clip from the workshop ""A Musical Glue for Nation-Building: Deconstructing the Film Song,"" Ketan Anand, son of legendary filmmaker Chetan Anand, recalls how he brokered the casting of Navin Nischol in the lead role of Hanste Zakhm (1973), sharing a first-hand account of the decisions that shaped the film. Featuring Ketan Anand, Ravikant, Pavan Jha, and Neville Tuli as panelists, this session was presented by the Tuli Research Centre for India Studies (T.R.I.S.) at the 7th Self-Discovery via Rediscovering India Festival.

Chetan Anand shot heartbreak the way other directors shot war, against a landscape vast enough to hold it. "Yeh Duniya Yeh Mehfil Mere Kaam Ki Nahi" from Heer Raanjha (1970) is a song of heartbreak staged against stunning visuals. Sung by Mohammed Rafi, with music by Madan Mohan and lyrics by Kaifi Azmi, it turns separation into philosophy. In this clip, Ravikant, Professor, CSDS (Centre for the Study of Developing Societies), calls the song one of the best statements on loss and the ambition to win it back. What makes the song unforgettable is the way voice, music and visuals come together, and Chetan Anand's use of landscape gives it a vast, almost mythical quality, creating a fantasy space where pain can be larger than life, where the song can say what the narrative cannot. The result is a beautiful moment in Indian cinema, where heartbreak, spirituality and landscape fuse into a deeply moving, visually rich film song that has become a timeless expression of love. This video is from 'A Musical Glue for Nation-Building: Deconstructing the Film Song', presented by the Tuli Research Centre for India Studies (T.R.I.S.) at the 7th Self-Discovery via Rediscovering India Festival.

"Yeh Duniya Yeh Mehfil Mere Kaam Ki Nahi" from Chetan Anand's Heer Raanjha (1970) is more than a sad song, it is a declaration that love is above all. Sung by Mohammed Rafi, with lyrics by Kaifi Azmi and music by Madan Mohan, it turns the pain of separation into a universal cry about the world, its gatherings and its celebrations; none of which matters once the love is lost. In this reel, film historian Pavan Jha examines the Sufi love at the song's core, where longing for the beloved doubles as a spiritual quest, and "duniya" and "mehfil" stand for everything that feels empty in absence of love. Madan Mohan's genius lies in keeping this firmly within the idiom of a popular film song, never pushing it into another genre, but crafting a melody that is soulful, accessible and instantly memorable. A deeply philosophical, Sufi-inflected lyric, the song reached the masses as a hit film number, and this is the reason why, decades later, the song remains a touchstone for heartbreak, longing, and the simple, powerful idea that love is the only thing that truly matters. This video is from 'A Musical Glue for Nation-Building: Deconstructing the Film Song', presented by the Tuli Research Centre for India Studies (T.R.I.S.) at the 7th Self-Discovery via Rediscovering India Festival.

“Milo Na Tum to hum Ghabrayen” from Chetan Anand's Heer Raanjha (1970) is the film's song of joy. Sung by Lata Mangeshkar and Mohammed Rafi, with music by Madan Mohan and lyrics by Kaifi Azmi, it captures the first flush of love as playful delight, capturing the confusion, the shyness, the sudden overflow of happiness that makes the heart ask, “What has happened to us?” Reminiscing about the song, filmmaker Ketan Anand revealed that this was the first time in the film that the colour yellow floods the screen. This change of palette signals the change of mood. After the earlier, more restrained tones, the arrival of yellow signals spring, joy and the fullness of life. “He went bananas with this song,” said Ketan Anand about his father, who expressed that joy in this song through Bhangra (traditional Punjabi folk dance) and the vibrant colours. This video is from 'A Musical Glue for Nation-Building: Deconstructing the Film Song', presented by the Tuli Research Centre for India Studies (T.R.I.S.) at the 7th Self-Discovery via Rediscovering India Festival.

"What does a patriotic song sound like when it refuses to celebrate aggression? ""Kar Chale Hum Fida"" from Chetan Anand's Haqeeqat (1964) answers that question with a stillness that has stayed with the Indian audiences for over six decades. In this discussion, Ravikant, Professor, CSDS (The Centre for the Study of Developing Societies), highlights that although it is a song about war, it subverts expectations by being devoid of any swashbuckling aggression. The song speaks not of conquest or victory but of sacrifice and collective responsibility; a burden shared equally by soldiers, women, and the young. Kaifi Azmi's lyrics carry no triumphalism of epic proportions, rather only a quiet, devastating sense of duty. Chetan Anand's Haqeeqat released at the time when the idealism of the early independence years was falling apart and the Nehruvian generation, which had carried the dream of a new India, was fading away. The song, with war as it's background, mourns the dead, but it also speaks directly to the living, asking them what they will do with the nation left in their hands. This video is an excerpt from the session with Ketan Anand, Ravikant, Pavan Jha and Neville Tuli, ""A Musical Glue for Nation-Building: Deconstructing the Film Song"", presented by the Tuli Research Centre for India Studies (T.R.I.S.) at the 7th Self-Discovery via Rediscovering India Festival."

"Who was Chetan Anand — and why does his cinema still carry such a deep, emotional charge? In this clip, his son Ketan Anand introduces the filmmaker behind Haqeeqat (1964), a man who ""suffered in silence for a long time,"" and the learning he received from that pain, which poured into his films. It was during this time that Kaifi Azmi wrote some of his most remarkable poems for him. The product of this collaboration was a war song that became part of India's collective memory. As Ketan Anand puts it, ""This is not a jingoistic song… this is the pain of human stupidity."" No chest-beating, but a meditation or rather a question on why we go on fighting and killing while talking of love and peace. Somewhere, it is out of this pain that one must evolve. And Anand's cinema did exactly that. This video is an excerpt from the session with Ketan Anand, Ravikant, Pavan Jha and Neville Tuli, part of the series 'Deconstructing the Film Song: A Musical Glue for Nation-Building,' presented by the Tuli Research Centre for India Studies (TRIS) as part of the 7th Self-Discovery via Rediscovering India Festival."

The Tuli Research Centre for India Studies (TRIS) invites you to “A Musical Glue for Nation-Building: Deconstructing the Film Song” series of four workshops which brings together leading scholars, academics, film practitioners, students, and admirers of the film song. Through 16 iconic songs from the cinema of Raj Kapoor, Guru Dutt, Chetan Anand, V. Shantaram, and B.R. Chopra, the sessions explore the extraordinary power of the film song, examining why these melodies continue to resonate across generations long after their films were first released. The workshops seek to understand the nature and enduring influence of this cultural glue while situating the film song within TRIS' academic framework for Contemporary India Studies. Through conversations on music, poetry, performance, cinematography, and storytelling, the series uncovers the emotional and intellectual foundations of Indian cinema and the artistic collaborations that shaped the nation's cultural memory.

Krishna Reddy, one of the world's finest printmakers, developed complex viscosity printing techniques to build layered surfaces for his organic artforms, resembling webs or marine organisms which emerge through dense tonal structures. The insect or organism becomes a study of interconnected systems and movement, rooted through a brilliant aesthetic fusing of his individual creative spirit and his unique educational experiences and inspirations at Rabindranath Tagore's Santiniketan with Nandalal Bose, the Slade School of Art with Henry Moore, the Academie Grande Chaumiere with Ossip Zadkine, Atelier 17, Paris with Stanley Hayter and Academia Di Belle Arti Di Brera with Marino Marini during the period 1947-57.

R.B. Bhaskaran is associated with the Madras Art Movement, often working through recurring motifs and symbolic forms. The cat, within Indian domestic and visual culture, occupies a familiar yet ambiguous space both companion and elusive observer, moving between intimacy and distance. In this work, Bhaskaran elongates and distorts the feline form, allowing it to stretch across the pictorial surface. The animal becomes less a subject and more a sign fluid, shifting, and quietly expressive. Its presence carries both playfulness and unease within the composition. Visit the website to discover more on the artist’s work.

Laxma Goud is a painter, draughtsman, sculptor and one of India’s finest printmakers. Goud’s childhood was spent in Telangana's village-an environment that shaped his sensibility in the years to come. Goud received his training in drawing and painting at the Government College of Fine Arts and Architecture in Hyderabad and studied Mural Painting under veteran artist K.G. Subramanyan in the 1960s at Baroda. To Goud, urban middle-class morality either repressed sexuality or treated it as taboo while rural societies had an unselfconscious and non-prudish attitude towards it. It is no surprise then that many of Goud’s works were overtly sexual in nature, fusing rural imagery with uninhibited eroticism. While his mastery over printmaking is reflected in his monochromatic copper plate etchings, he expanded into sculptural language in the 1980s utilizing materials such as terracotta and bronze. Goud's goat reflects a heavy sculptural form, returning to his traditional roots of Andhra’s craft traditions like leather puppetry and terracotta sculpting. Goud's goats hark, of course, to those dormant indigenous influences but they also, to some extent, remind one of the goat renderings of Picasso, who had famously kept a pet goat named Esmeralda. In both cases, the goat emerges not merely as a pastoral motif but as a charged and affectionate presence too. In the Indian subcontinent, the goat occupies a long-standing place within agrarian and ritual life, tied closely to everyday economy and forming part of rural systems of livelihood across regions. In Goud's work, the goat is held within this spectrum of memory and the conditions of rural life.

Amit Ambalal’s exquisite papier mache sculptures embody his larger philosophy of life: to remain inquisitive, playful and humorous, and to embrace life with joy, much like the canine figures that often animate his works. For him, art is an outward expression of an inner spiritual experience, something that is beyond just intellect. Belonging to an industrialist family, Ambalal spent his childhood immersed in stories of Indian mythology wherein the demarcation between reality and mythology often dissolved, and where animals mingled freely with humans. While he was expected to take over his family's business, Ambalal chose to pursue the arts and got trained under veteran artist Chhaganlal Jadav. In Ambalal's papier mache sculptures, a vibrant menagerie of animals emerge as protagonists in his artistic narratives. Inspired by the Pichwais of Nathdwara, he viewed life as Leela or divine play, where all beings, whether human or animal, are interconnected participants. His animals, from pouncing tigers to galloping dogs and leaping and brachiating monkeys are often suspended mid-action on slender rods, creating a sense of weightlessness and motion in a carnivalesque arrangement.

One of the foremost Indian modernists of the 20th century, MF Husain is recognizably the most popular painter of horses. His horses leap and gallop in agonizing, abstracted movements across the length and breadth of his canvases. Though modern in form, Husain remained deeply rooted in India, and his imagery draws from the vast reservoir of the country's mythologies, rituals, and visual traditions. His works are thus both intensely personal and broadly archetypal. Growing up, a major source for Husain's horses was the iconic Duldul, Imam Husain's horse in the battle of Karbala, whose decorated image was carried during the Muharram processions in Indore that Husain had often watched in his boyhood. The symbol of the tiger is another bearer of myth and identity for Husain, at once the 𝙑𝙖𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙖 of the goddess and a national emblem. Rendered in stylized, angular forms, his tiger departs from naturalism and harks back to the miniature paintings and stone sculptures of the sub-continent. Many rare visual narratives and artistic expressions come together in 𝘼𝙡𝙡 𝙇𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙎𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙨 Expressed in the Modern and Contemporary Fine & Popular Indian Arts, a compelling exhibition curated by Neville Tuli that explores the 16th Research Category for India Studies— "The Animal Human Nature Continuum" on 5th to 11th May 2026 at 📍 Visual Arts Gallery, India Habitat Centre, Lodhi Road, New Delhi 110003 Visit the Integrated Timeline of the artist on tuliresearchcentre.org for an extensive, in-depth analysis of the life and works of one of India's most celebrated artists!

Jyoti Bhatt's iconic etching “Lost Pundit” is among the featuring works in the exhibition. A pioneering Indian artist, printmaker, and photographer, best known for his contributions to modern printmaking in post-independence India, Bhatt developed a unique visual language by drawing extensively from living traditions including ritual markings and rural craft and folk practices. One of his widely recognisable etchings titled 'Lost Pundit' epitomises a sense of harmony and wit both visually and thematically: an owl is perched atop a somewhat whimsical yet enigmatic figure, a learned man, traditionally associated with knowledge and authority, who appears disoriented or out of place. Bhatt often draws on archetypal figures from Indian society, and here the “Lost Pundit” represents one such figure. This etching is one of Bhatt's early works to be shown at his significant one-man show of prints and paintings at Gallery Chemould in 1967. Many rare visual narratives and artistic expressions come together in 𝘼𝙡𝙡 𝙇𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙎𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙨 Expressed in the Modern and Contemporary Fine & Popular Indian Arts, a compelling exhibition curated by Neville Tuli that explores the 16th Research Category for India Studies- ""The Animal Human Nature Continuum"" on 5th to 11th May 2026 at 📍 Visual Arts Gallery, India Habitat Centre, Lodhi Road, New Delhi 110003 Visit Jyoti Bhatt's Body of Work section on the tuliresearchcentre.org to explore more exhibitions of the master.

Tuli Research Centre for India Studies presents All Living Souls - Expressed in the Modern and Contemporary Fine & Popular Indian Arts Curated by Neville Tuli As part of launching the 16th Research Category for India Studies - "The Animal-Human-Nature-Continuum" we present a fascinating exhibition of modern and contemporary Indian fine and popular arts and their expression of the ideas and forms related to the dialogue between animals and humans, and the larger cosmic and spiritual thoughts which abide therein. Please visit the Exhibition and see the artworks by modern and contemporary masters such as Rabindranath Tagore, D.P. Roy Chowdhury, M.F. Husain, J. Swaminathan, J. Sultan Ali, Somnath Hore, Ganesh Pyne, Manjit Bawa, K. Laxma Goud, Krishna Reddy, Jyoti Bhatt, Rekha Rodwittiya, Amit Ambalal, among others, along with vintage and rare prints from the pioneering Indian chromolithographic presses such as Chitrashala, Ravi Varma, Calcutta Art Studio, Chore Bagan & Kansaripara.

Tuli Research Centre for India Studies (T.R.I.S.) & 17th Habitat Film Festival Venue Gulmohar Hall, IHC Convention Centre, Lodi Road, New Delhi 110003 Fee Free Date Saturday, 24 May 2025 PART 1 11 am to 1pm | REGISTER PART 2 2pm to 4pm | REGISTER Part 1 This Masterclass will be especially interesting for students, academics, faculty members and the film fraternity who are primarily interested in using the world of cinema to integrate across other subjects with an in-depth and unique transdisciplinary pedagogic approach to learning and education. Part 2 of the Masterclass will include a walk-through of the archival exhibition on The Cinema of Shyam Benegal and highlight the history of Indian cinema and also demonstrate how the T.R.I.S. online knowledge-base invites a deeper study of visual materials from cinema to the fine and popular arts and photography.

A prominent figure in modern Indian art, S.H. Raza has had a notable presence in the global art market. His artwork "Paysage" (1972) exemplifies his unique style and holds a significant place in the art world performance. Raza's works from the 1970s, particularly 1972, have consistently achieved high values at auctions, indicating their timeless appeal. His use of acrylic on canvas is a distinctive feature of his artistic output. This medium, known for its versatility and vibrant colour, makes up a considerable portion of his work and is well-received in the auction market. Artworks like "Paysage" illustrate Raza's approach of blending traditional Indian themes with modest techniques. The analysis of Raza's auction market performance highlights a strong demand for his works from the 1970s. This period is characterized by several high-value sales, demonstrating the market's recognition of these extraordinary pieces. Examining Raza's market performance provides insights into broader trends within the art market. His consistent auction results reflect the market's valuation of his works and his role in modern Indian art. His legacy continues to hold a significant place in the art world.

Barwe's 1980 enamel on canvas artwork, "Blown Hourglass" has witnessed remarkable financial dynamics through its journey spanning over 21 years across three distinctive auctions. The journey commenced in 1999, when the painting first graced the auction floor of Christie's London, fetching a sum of Rs 215,496. A short leap of five years took it to Christie's New York in 2004, where it's value almost doubled, securing Rs 481,286. Sixteen years thereafter, the artwork made a resounding comeback in 2020 at a Sotheby's New York auction. Here "Blown Hourglass" fetched Rs 7,427,230, reflecting a notable appreciation in its market value since its debut. The 21-year span between its first and latest auction highlights a Compound Annual Growth Rate (CAGR) of 18.36%, shedding light on the escalating allure and investment potential of Barwe's "Blown Hourglass" and his other notable works.

The early 1970s marked a transformative period in Bhupen Khakhar's artistic evolution. Around 1972, Khakhar began developing a distinctive visual language focused on portraying the everyday lives of ordinary men. This shift culminated in his renowned "Trade Series" - a collection of paintings that resemble large, marquee-style portraits of individuals engaged in various professions, reminiscent of eighteenth-century Company School paintings. Art critic Timothy Hyman notes that Khakhar ventured into an unprecedented artistic realm, capturing the essence of a half-westernized, half-urbanized modern India. His unique position working as an accountant while engaging intimately with a diverse range of human experiences allowed him to present a vivid portrayal of Indian life. Khakhar's "Trade Series" represents a profound departure from traditional artistic confines, effectively dissolving the barrier between studio art and everyday reality.

In 1968, KG Subramanyan unveiled "Windows-II", a pivotal piece within his expansive series of polyptychs and murals. Rooted in both practicality and theory, this series emerged from Subramanyan's formative years in New York, where spatial constraints sparked his innovative use of multiple canvases. The concept of polyptychs, manifested in "Windows-II", invites viewers into a voyeuristic exploration through structured panels. Each window in Subramanyan's artwork offers a glimpse into the ordinary lives of people, reminiscent of earlier terracotta panels but now characterized by a modular, repetitive grid. Art critic Siva Kumar describes Subramanyan's technique as transforming figures and landscapes into vibrant, flattened forms, evoking a sense of animated mystery. Subramanyan's "Windows-II" exemplifies his mastery in merging narrative elements with visual artistry, presenting viewers with a tableau that challenges conventional storytelling through its serial and repetitive structure.

The iconic mouth-organ scene from the 1975 Ramesh Sippy film Sholay was performed by Bhanu Gupta, an integral part of the film's music composer R.D. Burman's team. Primarily a dacoit film, also referred to as a Dacoit Western, combining tropes of Hollywood Curry Westerns and Indian dacoit films, this scene was a rare moment of expression of outward calm, inner loneliness and an unspoken connection, portrayed beautifully by Amitabh and Jaya Bachchan (née Bhaduri). A review in the popular film magazine of the time Star & Style (12 September 1975) noted that, “Jaya conveys almost everything with her face…we have hardly any other Hindi actress who can do such a feat, of expressing sadness and hope.” In the scene, filmed at dusk, Radha, the young widow of the Thakur's son, lights the lamp of the house while Jai is sitting downstairs playing a melancholic tune on his mouth organ. The sadness of Radha and the longing that Jai feels for her is portrayed beautifully establishing a moment of tranquillity between the two characters with a doomed ending. Ramesh Sippy in an interview recounted how the scene took several days to be satisfactorily filmed as he wanted to capture the perfect lighting and mood for the shot. Termed as a non-starter upon its release and panned by the critics, the film went on to become a cult classic, remembered for its story, acting, music and overall production values, drawing audiences in droves to the theatres. Sholay, has been revered by many film critics and enthusiasts over the years gaining accolades such as the “Top 10 Indian Films” of all time by the British Film Institute in 2002 and the “Best Film of 50 Years” by the Filmfare Awards in 2005.

A working still from Manmohan Desai's 1983 film Coolie, produced under the banner M.K.D. Films Combine and Aasia Films Pvt. Ltd., was captured on Amitabh Bachchan's return to the shooting of the film after his prolonged stay in hospital. Coolie remains an integral part of the illustrious filmography of Amitabh Bachchan and one of the landmark films of the collaboration between Bachchan and Desai. A classic example of the masala films, Coolie was a blockbuster hit. The film bore all the famous tropes of lost and found family members, romance and a trusted animal coming to the aid of the hero. The film was also spotlit for the near fatal accident that occurred on the sets of the film during a fight scene between Bachchan and Puneet Issar, leaving the former hospitalised for two months at Breach Candy Hospital, Bombay, while the entire nation prayed for the superstar's recovery. Kader Khan, who played the role of the main antagonist in the film also served as its writer, incorporating several references to Sufi mysticism in the script. The sacred number 786, served as the badge number of the coolie Iqbal (played by Bachchan), his falcon named Allah Rakha (meaning in God's protection), and a shroud from the Haji Ali Dargah which landed on Iqbal's shoulder during the final scenes of the film, as he took his revenge from Zafar, killing him at the end while nearly surviving multiple injuries himself. The climax of the film was changed and re-shot after Bachchan's return from hospital capitulating to audience sentiment, which had feverishly prayed for their hero's safe recovery. Prayag Raaj, a trusted collaborator of Desai, directed and co-wrote the script of the film along with some songs. Desai's name was later added as the co-director of the film to get better distribution price; he was originally the producer of the film. Coolie went on to become one of the ten highest grossing films of the decade and the biggest hit of 1983, exceeding 75 weeks in several regional centres with people sleeping overnight at theatres to secure a place in next morning's booking queues.

Cockfights were a popular sport in India and other parts of the world in the late eighteenth-century. In 1786, the then Governor-General of India Warren Hastings commissioned German-born artist Johann Zoffany to paint the historic cockfight that had many British East India Company employees and Indian royalties in attendance. Several versions of the painting have thus been made and depicted in various mediums over the course of more than two centuries, including the cock-fight scene in Satyajit Ray's 1977 film Shatranj Ke Khilari.