Visibility, Invisibility, Presence, and Anonymity: The Many Facets of Camouflage

Existing entirely in the online space, Hakara’s day-to-day is steeped in questions of visibility and reach, much like most other online journals. We are constantly brainstorming: how do we reach a larger audience? How do we stand out in a never-ending sea of content? How do we appeal to a sharp minded group of contributors, and cultivate an engaged and critical readership for our work? It is true that these questions have existed since long before the advent of the internet, yet their relevance feels especially pressing in this cultural moment of media-overload. Inundated by a never-ending stream of images, as consumers we feel stuck in the push and pull between seeing too much and seeing nothing at all. Each of us– as inhabitants of the digital landscape– must constantly navigate questions of visibility, invisibility, and often, hyper-visibility. 

It is against this landscape of concerns surrounding questions of visibility and anonymity, presence and absence, and the fluid transitions from one to the other, that we entered Hakara’s 19th edition, and proposed the theme of “camouflage”. Our innate desire to see and be seen afresh, pushed us to work newer voices in the field. We invited Azhar Wani and Adreeta Chakraborty to join our editorial team for this edition, and contribute to our work with their sharp and thoughtful insights, and consistent efforts. We are fortunate to have received similarly critical and evocative work that engages the theme of “camouflage” in unique ways. Their explorations reveal deep insights on the presence of an external and internal gaze in women’s lives; the use of camouflage as a device in literary, poetic and mythic forms; and its role in navigating social vulnerability, and feelings of belonging, and un-belonging in deeply graded societies. 

In her series of artworks titled “Textures of Hope”, Ashra draws out the intimate role of camouflage in the domestic sphere of women’s lives. Her sculptures depicting fungi growing on organic forms centre the role of camouflage in the natural world; they remind us of the processes that organisms such as fungi have adopted in order to survive harsh conditions and mask their presence from prying eyes. On close inspection, however, her sculptures reveal another layer of camouflage: we realise that the fungi are not organic forms at all, but intricately crochet-ed sculptures. Thus, Ashra’s employment of a technique traditionally associated with women’s labour, reminds us of the several mundane tactics employed by women to camouflage parts of themselves in a largely hostile environment. Often confined to the domestic realm, women, she says, use camouflage as a tool for “self-preservation, and a shield against judgement.” Additionally, the camouflaged presence of her intricate crochet work within the larger sculpture reminds us of anonymity accorded to women’s art– often integrated within domestic spaces in the form of functional or decorative items.  

For writers Babra Shafiqi and Michelle D’costa, however, camouflage that shields one from the hostilities of the male gaze is almost impossible. Both their protagonists grapple with the reality that ensues from inhabiting female bodies. Describing her experience of growing up with a Governess who policed her every move, Shafiqi’s protagonist says, “the Male Gaze enters your nose and makes shelter in your eyes. It becomes harder to differentiate whether it is your vision or something through which you are seeing.” She internalises the need to perform for this Gaze so deeply, that she cannot shirk it off even when she is alone. Similarly, D’costa’s protagonist longs for a moment of respite from her boss’ prying eyes. She says, “Through the rearview mirror, his eyes were locked on my face, as if I would disappear if he blinked.” Constantly watched, and unable to escape this figurative or literal gaze, these women’s existence becomes subordinated to the presence of an observer. His distrustful gaze reminds them: they are creatures of deceit, who cannot be trusted to be left alone; no matter what they do, their bodies cannot escape his lust. 

Yet, in true camouflage fashion, there is more to D’costa’s protagonist than might initially meet the eye. She remarks, “Even after all the staring, he never knew what I really looked like.” D’costa skillfully employs the device of camouflage to create a richly fleshed out shape-shifting character who moves between the human and animal worlds. Here, the character’s ability to camouflage in and out of various worlds, along with the writer’s ability to weave fantastical elements into the fabric of mundane life, serve as crucial tools for constructing a magic-realist world. 

Similarly, Ratnakar Matkari uses camouflage as a literary device in working within “गूढकथा” or  the mystery genre. In Uma Shirodkar’s English translation of Matkari’s Marathi short story, titled The Last Bus, the protagonist’s inability to camouflage into a crowd of seemingly sane passengers, unsettles reader expectations about normalcy and insanity, and builds anticipation for the rest of the plot. Matkari and Shirodkar expertly camouflage bits of information into the narrative that they can later use to subvert reader expectations, generate feelings of surprise and horror, and thus successfully pull off the thriller genre. 

In poetic and mythic forms, camouflage allows writers to search for meaning through association. Rituparna Sengupta’s translation of Baabusha Kohli’s Hindi poem “आभास”  reflects on the constantly shape shifting nature of poetry itself. In its perpetual search for language, poetry must camouflage itself in the folds of recognisable forms: a creature, an inanimate form, or even a shadow. It exists only in this transience, retaining its absence of fixity in camouflaging from one form to another. 

Kuzhali Jaganathan’s essay titled “Heroine’s Best Friend: Nature, Metaphor, and Animism in Viralimalai Kuravanji” shows how 17th or 18th century Tamil poet Chevvur Vadumu Vaithyalinga Kavirayar camouflages (and perhaps even censors)  women’s intimate desires by deploying symbols from nature, such as the moon, the breeze, a cuckoo, or a sea with raging waves. Here, metaphor allows poets to build fluid relationships between our inner (psychological) and outer worlds, where interiority finds reflection in exteriority, in turn allowing for a richer understanding of the interior. 

However, exterior landscapes are not merely vehicles for interior reflection, but are home to rich processes of ecological camouflage themselves. Today, it is unfortunate that these processes have been unsettled by the pressure for urbanisation that is swallowing up previously un-encroached lands. Satpal Gangalmale’s “माळावरच्या पोरंचाळवण्या” describes the changing colour palettes of these ecological habitats that are being converted into urban spaces, and shows how this disrupts the long-existing camouflage patterns of the wildlife that inhabits these regions. The intricately devised camouflage techniques of the animal kingdom are now being replaced by the oppressive sameness of city life. In “The Faces of Urban Camouflage: A Tale of Survival in The White Tiger” Shivangi Chaturvedi and K. M. Pandey argue that the modern city is built on fantasies of homogeneity. Here, visual markers of vulnerability mark you out as outsiders, and conformity to dominant codes of behaviour determine who can and cannot experience belonging within these “world-class” spaces. 

In his play titled Conversations, Sameem Wani explores the emotional dimensions of the desire for camouflage born out of perpetual social vulnerability among Kashmiri youth. The three young characters  Amir, Umair, and Zeeshan repeatedly strive to steer conversation away from “depressing stuff”, to talk about “something else”; but conversation about beautiful mansions inevitably brings up images of the screeching sounds of cement machines; a glance at his reflection on his phone makes Amir confront his receding hairline. A pervasive sense of gloom hangs over the characters, nothing they do can pull them out of this rut. Social and political vulnerability has settled into every corner of the characters’ lives. They cannot escape it no matter where they look. Efforts at camouflage provide nothing more than a fleeting illusion of happiness. After all, there is very little left to camouflage with or to camouflage into. 

As we near the end of our efforts at putting this edition together, we feel a strong sense of kinship with and protectiveness towards all the work that we helped shape into its current form over the last three months. The richness of their arguments, and the depths of their explorations have captured several fleeting nuances of our times. In a culture of hyper and constant visibility, Hakara’s 19th edition dwells on the things that evade easy representations. We sincerely hope that you engage with our work, and that that engagement helps you in your pursuit for meaning.