Palette of Tradition 3

 The Journey Begins

The next morning, Meera woke up with a renewed sense of purpose. She was ready to embark on her journey into the world of Indian folk arts. Ghanshyam had planned an itinerary that would take them across the length and breadth of India, exploring different art forms in their native regions.

Their first stop was West Bengal, known for its terracotta work. There they met artisans who moulded clay with such finesse that it seemed as if they were breathing life into it. The intricate designs on pots, vases and figurines spoke volumes about their skills and creativity.

Meera tried her hand at this art under the guidance of an elderly artisan named Subhas Da. Her initial attempts were clumsy – she struggled to give shape to the lump of clay on the potter’s wheel. But Subhas Da was patient with her; his encouraging words kept her going.

As she worked with clay, Meera felt a deep connection not just with earth but also with those countless artisans who had carried forward this tradition over centuries despite numerous challenges.

By evening when she finally managed to create a small pot, albeit imperfectly shaped, Meera couldn’t help but feel a sense of achievement. It wasn’t much compared to what these skilled artisans created every day but it was a start – a small yet significant step towards understanding and appreciating Indian folk arts.

From West Bengal, they made their way to Maharashtra. This region was famous for its Warli paintings – a tribal art form characterized by simple geometric shapes and monochromatic palette.

They visited a small tribal village where this art form originated. The walls of the mud houses were adorned with beautiful Warli paintings depicting scenes from daily life and folklore.

Meera was introduced to Rukmini Aai, an elderly woman known for her mastery over Warli art. Under her guidance, Meera learnt about the symbolism behind different elements in these paintings.

Using only white paint on earthen backgrounds, Rukmini Aai created intricate scenes teeming with people, animals and trees. There was a certain rhythm in her work that reflected the harmony between humans and nature inherent in tribal cultures.

As Meera tried to replicate this style on a piece of cloth provided by Rukmini Aai, she realized how challenging it was to convey complex ideas through such simplistic forms.

By the end of their stay in Maharashtra, Meera had developed a deep respect for these artists who despite living far away from modern cities had managed to keep their traditions alive through their artwork.

The journey so far had been enlightening for Meera but little did she know that it would also bring her face-to-face with some harsh realities about Indian folk arts.

Their next destination was Bihar, home to the vibrant Madhubani art. This form of painting, also known as Mithila art, is characterized by its eye-catching geometrical patterns and use of bright colours.

They were welcomed by a community of women artists who had been practicing this art form for generations. Meera was struck by their dedication and passion towards their craft. They used natural dyes made from plants and minerals to create intricate designs on cloth, paper and even walls.

Under the guidance of an experienced artist named Kalpana Devi, Meera learnt about various motifs used in Madhubani paintings such as fish symbolizing fertility and peacocks representing love and romance.

As she tried her hand at creating a small Madhubani painting, Meera found it challenging to maintain symmetry while filling up every inch of the canvas with detailed patterns – a unique feature of this art form.

However, amidst all the learning and exploration, something bothered Meera. She noticed that many young people in these communities showed little interest in learning these traditional arts. They seemed more inclined towards finding jobs in cities than carrying forward their ancestral traditions.

This realization hit her hard but she decided to keep her worries aside for now as they prepared for their next stop – Rajasthan.

The arid landscapes of Rajasthan brought a different hue to their journey. This was the land of Phad painting, an art form that narrates epic tales through vibrant and detailed imagery on large pieces of cloth.

Ghanshyam introduced Meera to his old friend, Ramu Chacha, one of the last remaining traditional Phad artists in Bhilwara district. Despite his age, Ramu Chacha’s hands moved with precision and grace as he sketched intricate figures onto the fabric.

Under his watchful eyes, Meera learnt about the unique narrative style of Phad paintings. Each character had a fixed position and size on the canvas depending on their importance in the story. The entire process was painstakingly meticulous but resulted in captivating visuals that held viewers’ attention from start to end.

As she tried her hand at creating a small section of a Phad painting, Meera found it challenging to balance detail with storytelling. Every stroke mattered and there was no room for error.

However, what troubled her more was seeing how this beautiful art form struggled for survival amidst modern alternatives like digital printing. The younger generation seemed reluctant to spend years mastering an art that offered little financial security compared to other professions.

This trend wasn’t unique to Rajasthan but reflected a larger issue affecting folk arts across India – they were losing relevance among their own people even while being celebrated by art enthusiasts like herself.

Their next stop was the bustling city of Kolkata, where Meera was introduced to the age-old tradition of terracotta work. Ghanshyam led her through narrow lanes filled with artisans moulding clay into intricate sculptures and pottery.

They met a master artisan named Bishnu Da who had been practicing this art since his childhood. He explained how each piece of terracotta art is hand-moulded, dried in the sun, and then baked in a kiln to attain its final form. The process was laborious but resulted in unique pieces that were both rustic and beautiful.

Under Bishnu Da’s guidance, Meera tried her hand at creating a small terracotta pot. She found it challenging to shape the soft clay evenly without distorting its form. But she also felt an indescribable joy as she watched her creation take shape under her hands.

As they explored more workshops around Kolkata, Meera noticed a common pattern – most artisans were middle-aged or older. When asked about their successors, many expressed uncertainty about whether their children would continue their legacy.

This recurring theme weighed heavily on Meera’s mind as they wrapped up their visit to West Bengal. It seemed like every region they visited echoed similar concerns about the future of these traditional arts amidst changing times and priorities.

Their journey then led them to the heart of Bihar, where Madhubani art thrived. This folk art form, also known as Mithila painting, was traditionally created by women on freshly plastered mud walls and floors of huts but now it’s also done on cloth, handmade paper and canvas.

They met with Sumitra Devi, a national award-winning artist who had been practicing Madhubani painting since she was a child. Her hands moved like magic as intricate patterns came alive on the canvas. She explained that these paintings often depicted nature and Hindu religious motifs.

Under her tutelage, Meera attempted to create a small Madhubani painting featuring fish – an auspicious symbol in this art style. Despite the seemingly simple design, she struggled to maintain symmetry while filling in detailed patterns within each outline.

As they interacted with more artists in Bihar, Meera noticed how many of them were trying to adapt their traditional techniques for modern markets – creating smaller pieces that could be used as home decor or even jewellery. Yet like other places they had visited so far; here too younger generations seemed less interested in continuing these traditions.

This pattern added another layer of complexity to Meera’s journey: How could one preserve something without changing its essence? As they left Bihar behind and headed towards Maharashtra for their next leg of exploration – this question lingered heavily on her mind.

Their next destination was the tribal heartland of Maharashtra, where they encountered Warli painting. This ancient art form is characterized by its simple geometric designs depicting daily activities of village life.

They were welcomed by a community of Warli artists living in a small hamlet nestled amidst lush greenery. Their leader, Bhaskar, explained that traditionally these paintings were done on the walls of mud houses using rice paste and bamboo sticks as brushes.

Meera was fascinated by how much could be expressed through such minimalistic designs. She tried her hand at creating a small Warli painting under Bhaskar’s guidance. Despite the simplicity of the shapes used – circles, triangles and squares – she found it challenging to create coherent scenes with them.

While interacting with other villagers, Meera noticed yet again how most practicing artists were older individuals. The younger generation seemed more interested in pursuing opportunities outside their villages than inheriting this traditional art form.

A sense of melancholy filled her as they left Maharashtra behind for their final destination – Rajasthan. It was becoming increasingly clear that if something wasn’t done soon, many of these beautiful folk arts could disappear within a few generations.

Their final destination was Rajasthan, the land of Phad painting. This traditional art form is characterized by its intricate details and vibrant colours, typically depicting stories of local deities and heroes on large pieces of cloth.

Upon reaching a small village in Bhilwara district, they were greeted by an elderly artist named Kailash. He had been practicing Phad painting for over six decades and was one of the few remaining artists who knew how to prepare their own colours using natural materials.

Meera watched in awe as Kailash transformed a blank piece of cloth into a mesmerizing narrative filled with numerous characters. His skilful hands moved with precision as he outlined each figure before filling them in with bright shades made from crushed stones, flowers and other organic sources.

Under his guidance, Meera attempted to create her own miniature version of a Phad painting. Despite her best efforts, she found it incredibly challenging to maintain the level of detail required while working on such a small scale.

As they bid farewell to Kailash and prepared for their journey back home, Meera couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by everything she had experienced so far. Each region they visited offered unique insights into India’s rich cultural heritage yet also highlighted the urgent need for preservation efforts.

As she flipped through her sketchbook filled with rough attempts at each folk art style they explored; Meera felt more determined than ever to find ways to keep these traditions alive.

After weeks of travelling, Meera and Ghanshyam returned to their starting point. But they were not the same individuals who had embarked on this journey. Their eyes held a new depth, their hearts carried a heavier burden – the burden of knowledge and understanding.

Meera couldn’t help but reflect upon all that she had learned during her travels. She was captivated by the beauty and diversity of Indian folk art, but also deeply disturbed by its precarious state. The conversations with various artisans echoed in her mind – tales of struggle, survival and an unyielding passion for their craft despite all odds.

She remembered how each artist’s face lit up as they spoke about their art; how their hands moved with practiced ease over materials that were second nature to them; how they lamented the disinterest shown by younger generations towards these traditional arts.

Ghanshyam watched Meera silently, his experienced eyes seeing beyond her quiet contemplation. He knew this journey had sparked something within her – a spark that could potentially ignite into a flame capable of making real change.

As they sat together under the starlit sky, Ghanshyam broke the silence. “So what will you do now?” he asked Meera gently.

“I don’t know,” she replied honestly. But even as she said it, ideas began to form in her mind’s eye – images of exhibitions, workshops and collaborations filled with vibrant colors and heartfelt stories.

The next morning, Meera woke up with a sense of purpose. She had spent the night mulling over Ghanshyam’s question and now, she felt ready to answer it. She wanted to use her skills as an art enthusiast to create platforms where these traditional arts could gain recognition and appreciation they deserved.

She shared her thoughts with Ghanshyam who listened attentively before nodding in agreement. “It won’t be easy,” he cautioned her, “but I believe you have the determination to make it happen.”

With this newfound resolve, Meera began planning for the first phase of her mission – organizing an exhibition showcasing various forms of Indian folk art. She reached out to artists she had met during her travels and invited them to participate.

Despite initial hesitation due to past experiences of exploitation by middlemen, they agreed upon hearing that one of their own – Ghanshyam – was involved in this initiative. They trusted him and his judgement.

As word spread about Meera’s plans, support started pouring in from unexpected quarters. Aaradhya, a young woman running an NGO dedicated towards preserving Indian folk art came forward offering assistance in terms of resources and networking.