PM pig
The Paper Mache Pig has, amazingly, survived intact, apart from the loss of his pipecleaner tail. I made him in Year 4 art (I don’t know why he is a ’he’, something in his expression reminds me of an imploring dog, and because we always had male dogs when I was a kid, therefore all dogs are by default "he" – complex, isn’t it?).
I remember making PM Pig well. Everyone was given a balloon, an egg carton and many strips of newspaper. The whole process took a number of weeks. Before class we lined up outside the art room in our smocks: dad’s old business shirts, specially made aprons and in my case a mu-mu mother wore in the 70’s, trimmed down to size. We could see the dried paper mache pigs inside, unpainted. Some had collapsed, and everyone fervently hoped their pig would not be one of those unfortunate ones.
To my relief, my paper mache-ing was sound, my pig was rock solid. I proceeded to paint him in a bold, warpaint style. I felt proud of my artistic pig, as most of my classmates just painted theirs pink. Where was the imagination kids! I am especially fond of my pig’s purple cheeks.
Sometimes I wonder how long I will have PM Pig. Will I have him for the rest of my life? He is one of those objects that has gained importance over time. I didn’t in fact really notice him until I moved out of home, somehow I found myself compelled to take him with me. I like thinking of the news stories from the 1980’s hidden under his skin.
I rekindled my paper mache skills in my first year of university, for "Colonialism and Modernity". One week was set aside for the "Non Traditional Presentation" and I decided that we should make a paper mache effigy of the British government in India and each of the group members should be a different element in society that wanted the end of British rule. We would say why we wanted Indian Nationalism, and bash the "Raj" pinata. I was Gandhi, and got a big laugh when I stood up and said "I am Mahatma Gandhi" and also when I patted the pinata because I didn’t believe in violence.
