"But they need inputs from us to replenish and bring alive their skills," argues Ritu Varuni, who runs a store selling decorative objects like lamps, trays and coasters crafted by rural artisans. "It is time we are concerned with the stereotypical designs that plague the artisans."

Adds Sujata Sinha, a boutique owner: "Money and markets are indisputable essentials to art and both make urban intervention necessary. The city is a craftsperson’s marketplace. It offers sustenance, a sense of pride and dignity, a measure of recognition and overall success."

Counters Choudhury: "I am really worried about defining the limit of the success that our indigenous craftsmen are getting. We all know that money ruins the social fabric and has a detrimental effect, not only on their lives, but also on their creativity.

Choudhury points towards Kathputli Nagar, a colony of puppeteers in New Delhi, set up by the cultural impresario, Rajeev Sethi in the 1970s. Almost all performers living there have represented India in some overseas cultural festival or the other in the past.

Today, they badmouth the government, complain of exploitation and compare their living standards with those abroad. The problems of over-crowding with more than 6,000 families from different parts of the country and the absence of employment opportunities have become their prime concerns.

"The practice of sending us abroad had spoilt us," concedes Bala Bhatta, a 35-year-old puppeteer. "Our forefathers were frightened of going overseas and that is why they were happier. I cannot deal with my low status here and my exalted role as a cultural ambassador when I go abroad."

Bhatta’s friends love to narrate the acute embarrassment these "ambassadors" had to face during the Festival of India in the USA in 1985, when several folk artistes refused to remain confined within the spaces allotted to them at the Smithsonian Institute in Washington DC.

"Some bahurupiyas (impersonators) who had perfected the act of Hanuman used to hide in the trees near the centre and throw branches at the crowds passing below," narrates Pappu Kesar, Bhatta’s friend. "Whey they scampered down and yelled, the crowds ran in panic. So the organisers instructed them to just sit quiet up in the trees!"

There are others who complain of how they have to "dilute their artistic essence" in order in survive. For instance, the Shadipur performers are playing more bhangra dhol at Punjabi weddings than their traditional music. Others have worked out completely bizarre routines like one called "Charlie" to amuse their patrons.

Then there is the famous Sitala Devi, a Madhubani artist, who now makes imitations of Kalighat Paat paintings because they sell better. "Ever since the government started encouraging Madhubani art, the market is saturated with such paintings," explains. "There are no takers."

"This is precisely the kind of danger we run into out of being over-patronising," Sinha points out. "We need to draw a line between support and encouragement. I would suggest that give these artisans a platform to work from and thereafter, let the market forces take over. That way, everybody remains happy." MF