“I was first introduced to Hampi by my father, Madhav Pawar. He thought it was one of the most beautiful places in the world. He was right. When I came to Hampi, and watched the sunrise from the Hemakuta Hill over what remains of the mighty Vijayanagar empire, I fell in love with everything I saw here. I remember being so overwhelmed by what I saw, that I wished to become one rock here. I’ve always thought about how much of life the old rocks around Hampi must have witnessed,” says Shapiro.

“My father was a man who used to tell my brother and me that there are enough people who will be doctors and engineers. He, and my mother, felt that few were able to follow their dreams, and they always encouraged us to do just that. Maybe this non-conformist approach they had to life led me to do interesting things,” she says, of what has certainly turned out to be a life with a difference.

METROPOLITAN MASSACRE

Growing up in Pune, Shapiro was exposed to a lot of culture. “Pune was a really fabulous city in those days. It has changed rapidly from being a charming, cultured city to the huge ugly metropolis,” she laments.

Recalling a spirited childhood, Shapiro went to college to study art history and travelled extensively overseas. “In countries like France, you see how culture is both preserved and revered; there is none of the dense ugly urban growth that we see in India today. I was quite struck by that. In India, old buildings are torn down without hesitation and hideous new ones replace them. On one street in Pune for instance, you had 50 people and then in a year’s time, you’d have 5,000 people!

“Once, I joined a group that was trying to save 200 trees in Pune, that were felled for the installation of telephone poles. Of course, the trees were cut, some of them old banyans. For months, the telephone poles were left on the side of the roads, awaiting installation.
I realised then that any type of conservation that meant saving the environment and improving the quality of life, was really not possible in an urban setting. It needs tremendous drive, patience and an understanding that nothing might still be achieved because the urban preoccupation with ‘progress’ and ‘development’ is so relentless and ruthless,” she says.

Shapiro returned to Hampi in January 1991. She felt she could breathe clean air there and the place inspired her as a painter. She returned every year, and stayed for longer periods of time each time. “When I lost my father to cancer, I inherited enough money to do what I wanted, and to follow my dreams like he had always wished me to. I decided to come back to Hampi and build my dream house here with Adam, my husband, a Canadian national.”

BUILDING A NEW FUTURE

Once settled in Hampi, Shapiro founded The Kishkinda Trust (TKT). Money trickles in slowly for the numerous projects that the Trust runs. Shapiro says, “There is no surplus money from the projects as yet, but we are able to meet our expenses, and we encourage a lot of voluntary work.

“The real objective of TKT is to develop the culture and the socio-economic structure of the Anegundi Hampi area, by preserving its natural and cultural heritage,” Shapiro explains. “I am committed to making Hampi an example of both preservation and progress. With the right minds, enough committed people, and the right type of development, it’s an achievable dream,” says the realist.

Addressing the socio-economic problems around Anegundi, Shapiro developed a banana fibre cottage industry. She involved the women of Anegundi and other villages in making handicraft items like crochet bags, mats, shoes, hats, etc. As more women felt empowered, the project became a successful venture. The women not only earned a living but also got the opportunity to develop a social life.

IT’S A WOMAN’S JOB

“The women here also owned sewing machines, but were not using them advantageously,” says Shapiro. This gave rise to another TKT project — the Ilkal workshop. Over the last two years, TKT has been employing the village women to stitch well-designed garments using the fabric woven at Ilkal, a village North of Hampi, famous for its saris.

. “We had no real concept of design or fashion, so we’ve been assisted over the years by Bangalore-based designer Jason Cheriyan. We wanted the clothes to be stylish and yet retain the essence of the local tradition and design. The clothes sell very well during the tourist season in Hampi that lasts from November to March,’’ she reveals.

“With the help of Gerard da Cunha, a well-known Goan architect, we have also drawn up a master plan for the conservation of this ancient village. We have integrated development projects that will sustain the lives of the village people,” she adds.

DAUGHTER OF THE SOIL

Agriculture is another preoccupation with Shapiro, especially the implementation of organic farming methods in areas in and around Hampi. “The organic farming programme was initiated by Agriculture-Man-Ecology, a Dutch Government agri sponsor. There are currently 51 farmers who are part of our organic agricultural programme, and we are in the midst of organising a ‘maha sabha’ on this subject for 600 farmers to educate them in organic farming and get them to practise it,” she says.

Tree planting activities around Hampi, monitoring high sanitation levels in villages like Anegundi, bringing acclaimed cultural dance and music groups to perform and enrich the lives of the villagers, and adding impetus to youth development activities are the other activities Shapiro is involved in. “We deserve our heritage in India, but we need a lot of other things in place before we can try to sustain our culture with pride,” she avers. “Villagers around Anegundi can appreciate their surroundings only if their stomachs are full first.”

LIKE A BLADE OF GRASS

“As a woman, it’s been both difficult and easy for me to survive in Hampi. It’s been easy to do some things because women reach out and connect with other women. I think, you get less violent reactions to radical ideas. People think you are vulnerable, and sometimes, I think I am.

“It took me time to build up trust and confidence in the minds of the people in Hampi, and there is still doubt as to why I am doing things here — some think there must be some catch. I guess at some level, I will always be an outsider, because of my exposure to the world outside, and because I really am from another part of India. It doesn’t bother me. I think I am like grass! I have been walked over many times, but I think the instinct for survival has been with me, and thank God for that. Like grass, I will just grow again!

“I’ve always had a social conscience — that comes from the manner in which my parents brought us up, and also because of my family’s background in politics. But I have lived more like an artist than a politician. I do have great regard and affection for my uncle, Sharad Pawar, and I think he’s one of the most capable people in this country, but I have never used my proximity to him to my advantage. People around me feel I should leverage that so we can get access to more assistance, but I haven’t.
I am not tempted to join politics. I am happy doing social work at my will. If you were to throw me someplace else, I don’t know if I’d have the same type of commitment that I have when I work to conserve and better the quality of the life and people in Hampi and Anegundi. I am connected to them quite genuinely,” she says.

“I would not like to be a politician, as a large part of me enjoys being a painter. As an artist, I do need some breathing space to paint, and time to spend with my young son, Gautam.”

ON TO THE BIGGER AND BETTER

“I would like to now move from the micro level of planning to a more macro view of things. I think in the future, I would like to first take a broad view of things and then work into the finer details of a project. The smaller villages need to be nurtured.”

As night falls on the wild and rocky terrain of this ancient land, that was famed to be the birthplace of the earth goddess ‘Bhumi’, Shama Pawar Shapiro bristles at the news of a mysterious death of a local woman, and prepares to do battle in the morning. Her own causes in Hampi are as varied as the colours of a rainbow shining through dark thunderstorms.

As she watches the fireflies lighting up an inky black night with a selfless glow, she shares a similarity of purpose with them. Indeed, her eyes sparkle like fireflies at night when asked what her future holds for Hampi. “This is just the beginning of my dreams!” she promises.