A WORD ABOUT AWARDS
An award is a reward that is bestowed upon someone for having achieved something commendable. Of late however, with news and views about how an award is shaded with hues of political preferences and interferences, receiving an award and deserving it, no longer remain the parameters for any meritorious feat. I do not deny that some have genuinely earned their awards (in fact I know a few who have) but then for a person who goes with the general feeling that’s what I felt. Until my daughter received one!
I remember the last time she visited us
she had casually mentioned about her concept. In the NIFT, at the end of their
course, every designer is required to showcase a collection of their designs
and apparel, based on a certain theme. Usually the ideas are unique and
creative, sometimes weird too, but often reflecting the personality of the
child. Her inspiration was taken from the instinctive styles and details of the
semi-rural population of
When we landed in Delhi for the graduation convocation, Fashionova (call it what you may), she did mention that the external jury had really been impressed with her concept and designs and hoped she would be rewarded- maybe in the ‘Best Menswear’ category. But when that award was announced I saw her slowly receding into the background. As the other four awards were given, she kept retreating further and further. And as the name of the recipient of the last award- the Ritu Kumar Best Design Collection Award was announced, the world suddenly stood still. It was a moment neither of us can forget. For the next few minutes I don’t exactly recall our exact reactions. My husband and my son probably looked like two stunned males. But the feminine response was instinctive- hands on the cheeks, then on the heart, eyes popping with awe, not forgetting that inimitable gasp of surprise- something akin to the Aishwarya Rais or the Sushmita Sens. Only, it appeared more synthetic on them and felt more natural on us.
Gone were all my misconceptions about awards. In fact, my belief in certain systems was miraculously reassured. My daughter had worked hard for this. She surely deserved it. We now looked forward to the All India NIFT show, where 37 award winners from the country’s seven Centres would be showcasing their collections. We were thrilled. Our daughter had won the Best Award from the most prestigious of all the Centres. Being able to participate in the show was by itself an honour. Something like being selected for the Oscars or the Filmfares or the Bookers. Just the nomination was enough. Could we ask for more?
But a human heart, apart from holding the auricles, ventricles, arteries and veins, is also enclosed with loads and loads of hope. So even if we mouthed what all nominees are expected to mouth, it was with a keen sense of expectancy that we sat at the Confluence. It was a great show. For the fashion conscious there were zuaves and capes and stove- pipes to feast their eyes on. For the fashion un-conscious (people like you and me), the same apparels merely looked like loose pants with lower crotches, a square piece of cloth with a hole in the center and slim fitting pants. And when the awards were being announced our anticipations rose high. It was a delightful feeling!
But very often the after effects of any delightful feeling is anything but delightful. I had read that it is so because when anything really feels delightful, either it is illegal, immoral or fattening. In our case it was painful. Not so much for us as it was for my daughter. She felt she had let down her institution. Naturally, once again, in the premises of my mind, politics and awards were already walking hand in hand. Hers was indeed a better collection than the one that was awarded. In fact it was ‘THE BEST’. What had gone wrong?
But one look at the awardee and her mother and everything changed. They both had that unbelievable expression on their faces, again akin to the Aishwarya Rais and the Sushmita Sens. It was their moment. And they probably deserved it. But for me the creativity in the award winning collection was totally overshadowed by the unique creation of another- my child’s. I then realized how difficult it must be for any jury to pass a judgment on creativeness. The key probably lay in disassociating oneself totally from the situation and viewing everything like a spectator. I tried hard to do so. I just could not. I wished the eyes of the external jury could have been that of a mother’s. Had it been so, then every child would have emerged a winner.
Nargis Natarajan.