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WORK PAD

In the midst of Nature

Photo: N. Sridharan

Aesthetic appeal Leela Samson in her office

While other bosses relocate trees and recycle imported ideas for green awards, Leela Samson, Director, Kalakshetra, oversees work from a clearing in the forest. Is there an environment award good enough for a wooded setting created out of a sandy stretch to revive classical arts and crafts and promote animal rights and vegetarianism? Here cutting even a ribbon must be sacrilege and woodpeckers must hesitate to peck at live wood.

From behind her desk on the left arm of a V-shaped office, Leela Samson can see through the French windows trees to her left and rooms surrounded by stone and wood carvings to her right. “Lovely, isn’t it?” she greets with a dancer’s practised glance. She probably knew the trees as saplings, having been a student of this 1960s-born cultural campus.

The office is new, though the building isn’t. It’s a makeover to knit administration, accounts, Internet server and legal cell into one cohesive unit. “This is my idea,” she says. “We moved here because it’s central to the College of Fine Arts and the two schools we run. I can just walk across to the Kalamkari weaving unit.”

Her table is full — computer, telephone and papers surround a lovely desk calendar, a child’s rattle, a stone frog. “I like stone, this one is a book weight. That bodyless dancing figure? “Reflective of me.” Wall cabinets of books and music CDs echo her energies. “They are work-oriented, from friends.”

The largish area is multi-purpose — it’s a boardroom, theory classroom and an initiation room, as “parents bring their children to learn the first steps from me.” Teachers gather for meetings, others to organise campus functions, artists to hold discussions on theatre productions. “Sometimes, I go out and sit in the reception area — it has low chairs and plenty to read — so I won’t disturb the creative activity.”

Inevitably, hostel accommodation and leaky cisterns get discussed too, part of her job. “My work keeps me here nearly 12 hours, I have to steal time to practise for my performances, stretch a limb.”

It’s tour time. The large Ravi Varma imitation is a student’s gift, the two photographs are favourite reminders of her work, one a concert “on our beach.” The cute pottery items are birthday gifts by student Ayeshe Sadr. The beautiful glazed pots are Gugan’s, the Vinayaka is from mom. The designer wooden chairs, her choice.

I peer at the large cloth calendar on the wall. She says, “I enter the office every morning full of plans. For three years I’ve been handling administration and the creative activities. Not all days are good.” Her perfectly trained expression doesn’t give anything away. “There’s always something round the corner. I try not to get caught up in it.”

No trophies? “You can’t show them off. Something should be done about making better ponnadais and mementos.”

I almost miss the historic exhibit — the framed letter in Rukmini Arundale’s hand, dated February 17, 1947, written during the Besant Centenary Celebrations. It reads: To the General Teachers of Humanity, To the Spiritual Motherland of the World, To the Service of the Young, And for the Helping of those who Suffer, This office is dedicated. May our Elders bless us with Their Love, Their Strength and their Wisdom. Rukmini Devi.

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