My dad is the dreamer with a vision. At work, he was like a rocket that would soar upwards…endlessly. My mother had to bring him down to earth and execute his plans. Luckily, I have a little bit of both in me

In the swiftly changing world of art, where canvases have moved from being a collector's passion to big business, Shireen Gandhy, youngest offspring of Kekoo and Khorshed Gandhy, has taken over the reins of the 40-year-old Gallery Chemould, with artistic aplomb. Justifying her unconventional choices and experimental risks to SHRADDHA JAHAGIRDAR-SAXENA, she says, "If I had not taken a fresh turn then we would have been regarded as a gallery that only shows relics!"

[Shireen with parents, Kekoo and Khorshed Gandhy: carrying the baton ahead]

And, rightly so, for husband and wife, Kekoo and Khorshed Gandhy, have been acknowledged as the pioneers of the art movement in India. Shireen Gandhy, their youngest offspring, has inherited the mantle of running their brainchild, Gallery Chemould, which recently completed 40 years. On the first floor of the Jehangir Art Gallery, at Kala Ghoda, Mumbai's art and cultural destination, it has kept pace with the changing muses that have inspired artists over four long decades.

The 40 colour-filled years were celebrated with a curated exhibition, 'Crossing Generations: diVERGE' at the National Gallery for Modern Art in December 2003. The Perfect Frame, a publication released on the occasion, encapsuled modern Indian art, with snippets and pictures from Kekoo's personal collection. The family's involvement with all things artistic, recalls Shireen, stemmed from their core business. "Framing photographs and portraits was dad's main concern. But, when he met Walter Langhammer, the Progressive Artists' Group's mentor, his interest in art began to flourish. He became a vibrant part of the Bombay Art Society, a vital presence on its social scene as well."

Thus, it happened that when a dark hole in the building housing the Jehangir Art Gallery lay unused for a long while, Kekoo was asked to transform the dingy space. Rumours recount how doubting sceptics carped that the narrow passage could never be transformed into a meaningful space for art. But, the Gandhys created magic and Gallery Chemould threw open its doors in 1963. And, the rest, as they say, is history.

The baby of the family was born exactly a year after the gallery opened. Shireen often dropped in after school at her mother's workplace. "I was a patient kid, very much in and out of the gallery," says the 39-year-old. "It would be like a treat for me. I'd have a snack at Samovar, the small eaterie downstairs, a coke as a bonus and hang around till Mom finished her work."

Her parents disagree, emphasising that little Shireen was much more than a mere hanger-on. Flashbacks Kekoo, as Khorshed nods her head in agreement, and Shireen dismisses the story as 'more fiction than fact': "She would come to the gallery straight from school, point to the paintings she liked. It is amazing how she picked the best ones."

But Shireen also remembers many long evenings spent alone at home. "I grew up almost like an only child. My brother and sisters, years older than me, had their own interests and, still new to what she was doing, Mum devoted most of her time to her work. So, in the evenings, I'd hate it when social commitments dragged her away from me." She now treads a cautious line with her own children, daughter, Atyaan, and son, Areesh.

Living in the same bungalow, on a different floor, with businessman-husband, Kurush Jungalwala, gives her kids a sense of familial belonging: "I grew up with my grandparents around me and I am glad my parents are so close to my kids," she says.

The art world, today, as it was years ago, is a very small world. "In fact, our home," says Shireen, "always followed an open-door policy. Painters walked in and out of our place, many outstation artists stayed with us when they visited Mumbai." The Paris-based S H Raza, for one, would live with the Gandhys for three to four months whenever he came to the city. "Artists like Tyeb Mehta, Ram Kumar and Bal Chabda have been like family. It was all so stimulating."

With such an intimate exposure to the masters of the palette, wasn't Shireen ever inspired to paint herself? "Not really," she confesses wryly. "You know whether you have that skill, it is inborn. Art was an important part of my childhood and my formative years. But, I was never a good painter, and Atyaan is like me. I was more musically inclined. I used to sing, I strummed the guitar…. Unfortunately, it was not developed at that time. I might have ended up doing something more with music."

Instead, Shireen did her BA (Psychology) from Sophia College and, in her final year, had already started spending quality time at the gallery. "It was a learning experience, seeing how Mom functioned. I'd show customers our stock and slowly became seriously acquainted with what was going on. College done with, I devoted long working hours here."

Soon London-bound, Shireen completed a course in Art Administration there. "I was exposed to a variety of eclectic art influences," she states. "As students, we would catch everything possible and soaked in the atmosphere. We visited umpteen galleries, did the rounds of museums and came away much richer for the experience."

Back home, the lessons learnt held her in good stead as she took over the reins of Gallery Chemould. "My brother, Adil, is a part of the business, but is not really aesthetically inclined...he runs the framing section." So, the responsibility fell on the shoulders of Shireen, who, by her own confession, is a mix of her parents. "My dad is the dreamer with a vision. At work, he was like a rocket that would soar upwards…endlessly. My mother had to bring him down to earth and execute his plans. Luckily, I have a little bit of both in me. I am impractical but I am conscious that my impulses should not affect the functioning of the gallery."

When she returned to Mumbai from London, Gallery Chemould had just turned 25. The world of art had begun to hum. Christie's had entered the art scenario in India and the demand for Indian works had begun to spiral. "It was an exciting time to return," Shireen reminisces. "The handover at the gallery happened gradually. My mother and I worked together for some time...she slowly began to take a back seat."

Even though there was a marked difference in their visions, the Gandhys let their daughter follow her own muse. Khorshed states softly, "I did not impose my tastes on her, though sometimes I had to interfere because of our relationship with certain artists." Yet there was a joy that 'fresh blood' was running the gallery. Fond papa, Kekoo, tending to his flowers in a vase, adds, "Shireen relates better to the present-generation artists. As I look at it now, we would have been a passé gallery and would have had to shut shop. So, even though I don't always understand her vision or feel the same kind of passion for the new artists, everything has worked out for the best."

"I do not blame them," says Shireen. "The kind of work that some artists do can be quite radical. There is such an inventive use of bodies and installations that the uninitiated are bound to be shocked by it all. Naturally, Mom and Dad find it difficult to understand. They may tell me, 'do not show this artist'…sometimes I listen, sometimes I don't."

Shireen has kept in touch with the past though, in many ways. "I do carry baggage. Everyone does. You can't shrug it off. I do some shows because of history. But, overall the gallery has taken a fresh turn. If I had not, then Chemould would have been regarded as a gallery that only shows relics!"

It's been 15 years since the Chemould's new 'CEO' took over and Shireen has come a long way since the first show she handled on her own: Atul Dodiya's exhibition. The artist now remains one of her closest friends.

"I have finally developed an eye that I can now trust," she jokes. It's taken time, travel and an ongoing osmosis of artistic bytes, both here and abroad. So, when an artist walks in, she can tell almost instantly whether he or she is worth showing. "It's very rare with walk-ins that you see something and say, 'Bingo, I've got a masterpiece!'" Yet, Shireen makes it a point to give every painter her time and attention and may call them back later for a fresh look at new work. She has also turned down big names, without a qualm. "An artist may be commercially huge, but if I don't find him interesting I will say 'No'. It is very difficult to do that - most are filled with a huge sense of themselves."

A few like Raza, who initially was alienated by her vision, now appreciate her efforts. "Raza was more used to working with my mother," she remembers. "When I took over, he wasn't really comfortable even though he has seen me grow up. It took one show to win him over. I was expecting my first child and I was determined to do his show single-handedly. I wanted to prove that I could do it…and I did! Raza wrote me a beautiful note later on, I still treasure it."

But, there are artists who have suddenly, without explanation switched loyalties to a different gallery and that has hurt Shireen. She is outspoken about their desertion: "I feel very bad when artists move on. Quite often, the break is mutual as we feel that we have outgrown each other. But, it makes me extremely angry when they move elsewhere, after the time and energy that I've invested in them, without telling me why they are doing so. I am not someone who keeps quiet. I always let them know that I am feeling bad about it."

On the other side are creative minds who swear by Shireen, artists whom she has discovered and exhibited successfully. Like Jitish Kallat, whom she spotted at a monsoon art show at the JJ School of Art. "He was just 21," she grins. "I imitated a pose from one of his paintings and we got talking. I went to his studio later and found an immense body of work that was ready for showing. My first reaction was how can Chemould Gallery exhibit the work of a 21-year-old?" So, Kallat had to wait for nine months for his first solo show.

Shireen's sense of the unusual has received visible manifestation in the varied shows she's put up. Once a shy, reticent man came to her gallery. "He looked like a scientist," Shireen remembers. "L N Tallur had an amazing sense of physics. He was carrying a little box. You opened it and a creative popped up…" She booked him before he could go elsewhere with his inventive work…and the show was a tremendous success.

The artistic world is not all a bed of roses, though. Aficionados have to guard against the 'fake factor'. In fact, late last year, news surfaced that an Anjalie Ela Menon sold by Gallery Chemould had turned out to be a fake. In fact, not one but three Menon 'copies' were detected and Mumbai-based Shireen Gandhy (Gallery Chemould), Ritu Prakash (Galleria) and Harish Chagganlal (Classic Source) were the unhappy recipients of emails from Menon that read: ''I am sorry to inform you, this is a fake." Shireen's embarrassment at receiving Menon's forwarded mail last October is an indication of the high esteem enjoyed by Gallery Chemould in the inner circles of art. "I do not normally touch a painting unless I know who the owner is," says Shireen. "This is necessary, particularly with artists like Jamini Roy who never made his art an exclusive product. Multiples of the same paintings exist, all from Jamini Roy's studio. In Anjali's case, with hindsight, I realise that I should not have taken the painting at all."

Happy that the issue came to light and that she has been exonerated of any fraudulent intentions, Shireen adds, "The painting was from a private collection, brought to me by a dealer I know very well. The only mistake I committed was that I did not check the source. It looked like Anjali's work and was in perfect condition. The thought that it could be a fake did not cross my mind at all…. Later, we realised that there were three copies - all done by the same person." Shireen has now sworn not to touch a painting again unless she knows its provenance.

Ten years ago, her parents celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary. Shireen gave them a surprise gift. She asked their artist friends to draw paintings to mark the occasion. She would like to provide the same kind of role model to her kids, as her parents have to her. "My parents have given me the space I needed to grow. I would like them to carve out their own paths, just as I did," Shireen says. "It is funny, Mom used to drag me to museums everywhere. On holidays abroad, I was on a permanent cultural overdose….Today, I hear my kids say the same thing. 'We hate art, we don't want to go to any more galleries' they protest." And yet, Atyaan is sensitive enough to recognise a Pushpamala printed in an inflight magazine. Readying instinctively, perhaps, to carry the baton ahead, to the third generation.