So much of the colour at Kala Ghoda comes from not just the artists but the visitors as well. That little street is awash with colour. Art students display their fledgling works. Aspiring writers congregate with journalists. Photographers stroll around, cameras casually hung around their necks. Families wander around wonder and curiosity writ large on their faces. Busy corporate types step out to ‘catch the fest’, ties loosened around their necks and their reactions escaping from their normally controlled faces. Tourists bustle about, wide-eyed at the colour. Teenagers mill about, their natural energy, for once, shared by everyone in the crowd alike, age irrespective.

The different faces of the city walk around marveling at the sights. And at each other.

 

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The festival seems to bring out the hidden artist in everyone as the visitors all sport their own brand of individual colour.

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Art in its many forms is never as evident as it is in this part of the year. When you walk very close to one of the buildings, you can hear strains of music. As you pass, it gives way to announcements for a children’s event in the parking lot. A little furthur and the organisers are ushering participants into the next workshop or film. Look around and suddenly you’re very aware of art in daily life.

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Art is about self-expression, isn’t it? And freedom. And power. And a wry sense of humour.

 

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As you walk around, you marvel at how much beauty, how much raw energy there is, hidden deep inside the people you see every single day. And what happens when they let a bit of their colours show.

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