The first time I heard about Serendipity, I thought it sounded like something you accidentally find in your pocket — like a ₹10 note you forgot about. Turns out, it’s kind of exactly that feeling but times a thousand. You go in thinking you’ll check out a couple of cool exhibits, and six hours later you’re still there, coffee in hand, watching a performance that makes you slightly emotional and very confused. Not in a bad way, just in that “why did this make me tear up?” way that’s somehow both weird and memorable.
I’m not perfect at describing art, and I definitely mess up words sometimes — like that one time I said “contemporary” when I meant “modern” and someone politely corrected me with a very serious face. But that’s what makes writing about a festival like Serendipity fun and, honestly, human. It’s messy, unpredictable, and impossible to pin down in boring sentences. Kind of like trying to explain why chai tastes better when it’s raining.
A Little Bit About What Happens There (But Not Too Much Because Spoilers)
When people hear “arts festival,” they instantly think paintings. That’s like hearing “festival food” and only thinking of samosas. Sure, they’re there, but there’s so much more. At Serendipity (yeah, the link above), you get Exhibitions that make you tilt your head and go “huh,” Performances that hit you emotionally when you least expect it, Workshops where you definitely get paint on your clothes, Talks that might make you rethink your life choices, and Film Screenings that stay with you longer than your last Netflix binge.
One funny thing about Serendipity is how different people treat it. I saw one guy wearing a perfectly pressed linen shirt, nodding with this serious art-critic vibe, standing in front of a sculpture that looked like — no joke — a bunch of old chairs stacked awkwardly. Ten feet away, a teenager was taking selfies, captioning it “chaos but make it aesthetic.” Both were right. That’s the beauty of it. There’s no single way to experience art here.
Walk Into an Exhibition, Leave With Your Thoughts Messy
Exhibitions at Serendipity are like walking into someone’s dream but filtered through their memories, playlists, and that one thought they couldn’t get out of their head. I once stood in front of a massive visual installation for so long I forgot I was hungry. Later I realized it reminded me of trying to untangle earphones. Not profound, but weirdly apt.
And here’s a niche little stat — not official, just something I noticed — about half the people I see at exhibitions are doing the exact same thing: staring at something, then glancing at the tiny card next to it, then glancing back, and then nodding like they get it. I do that too. Most of us are winging it. It’s okay.
Performances That Catch You Off Guard
Performances at Serendipity are dangerous in the best way. You walk by thinking, “Oh just background music,” and suddenly you’re in the crowd, foot tapping, heart a little lifted. One performance I watched involved a musician, a series of strange objects, and some rhythm that made no logical sense but somehow worked. I asked someone what it meant, and they shrugged and said, “Maybe life?” I laughed, but it stuck with me.
People online joke that performance art is just people moving weirdly for no reason. And honestly? Sometimes that’s exactly what it is. But other times, it’s like these artists are tuning into something deeper and pulling it right out where you can feel it in your bones. I’m still not sure how they do that.
Workshops: Expect Mess, Leave With Memory
Workshops at Serendipity are where all the neat and tidy parts of you get challenged. I signed up for a printmaking session thinking I’d make something beautiful. Instead I made something that looked like a Rorschach test if it got run over by a scooter. The instructor said, “That’s expressionistic!” I’m pretty sure that was code for “We like your effort.” But here’s the thing — I laughed so hard I forgot it wasn’t Instagram-worthy. And that, honestly, is the point.
Workshops turn you from spectator into participant. And that’s wild when you’re used to just looking at things. Getting involved makes you part of the festival’s heartbeat instead of just an observer.
Talks That Sneak Up on Your Brain
At first I thought talks would be snooze-fests. I pictured panelists in harsh lighting using words bigger than their own sentences should hold. But Serendipity talks are nothing like that. One speaker compared creativity to cooking biryani — you mix ingredients, hope for the best, sometimes burn it, but the result is always memorable in one way or another. I laughed so loud, and the crowd around me nodded like it was the deepest thing they’d ever heard.
That’s the thing with talks here — sometimes they drop actual wisdom, and sometimes they accidentally become life lessons through weird metaphors. Either way, you leave thinking a bit more than when you entered.
Film Screenings That Feel Like Mini Journeys
And then there’s the film part. Not your usual commercial stuff. These are short films, experimental pieces, quiet visual poetry, and stories that meet you halfway. One film I saw was so minimal I forgot to blink for a moment. It was about city sounds, without plot or actors, just ambience. I walked out feeling like I’d just taken a deep breath I didn’t know I needed.
Film screenings at a festival like this are like finding a hidden trail in a forest. You go in not knowing where it’ll lead, and somehow it teaches you something you didn’t expect.
What I Learned From Spending Too Much Time There
I didn’t plan to stay all day. I went in thinking I’d hit exhibitions, grab a quick bite, and bounce. Instead, I ended up fading into debates with strangers about what art means, watching performances that felt more like emotional revelations, and sketching half-baked doodles in my notebook because “the vibe seemed right.”
People online talk about Serendipity like it’s this mystical place where art and reality blur. And to be honest, they’re not entirely wrong. Because it doesn’t just show you art — it makes you experience it. Somewhere between those workshops, talks, films, and exhibitions, you start to see patterns in your own thinking you never noticed before.