THE LOST ART

           All that is left now is that photo from the newspaper. My father had shown it to everyone and it proudly graced the wall of the living room of our small house. The Hindu had run an article on him, the famous Madhubani Painter from Mithila, Bihar. He had won the Chief Minister’s award for his work in keeping the Madhubani Art alive back in those. His joy and pride in winning the award is clearly visible in his face. The tilt of his lips into a smile tells us all that is to know.

        In our family generations of artists were born. During the time of Rajas and Maharajas, my great grandfather was a renowned Madhubani artist and his paintings were commissioned by the kings. Learning to read and write was not as important as learning to paint. As kids, we would learn to draw the perfect strokes of lines instead of learning to write the alphabet. By the time, we reached the age of 15, we could draw all the scenes from The Mahabharata and The Ramayana.

            But those days are long gone, the Madhubani art is almost extinct. People in my generation are looking for other professions instead of the age old art running in the family for generations. The paintings instead of gracing the walls in the homes of people, ended up being in train coaches and museums where people hardly glance at them. People are more attracted to the modern art than what is tradition. The Madhubani art is lost somewhere in between modernisation and urbanisation of our villages and with that my Fathers smile lost in the years and the photo just a reminder of him and his passion which shone in his eyes.

It all begins with a small step

        “Do you remember the first time we met?” she asked. “Of course, I do it was at Agra the shoe factory.” He replied. We were created never to part ways, as one completes the other. We started off our journey from a shop front. A twenty something boy in navy jeans looked at us and it was love at first sight. Aditya made the first move when he put on those pair of shoes and saw himself transforming into a man that he wanted to be. The mirrors around him reflected that change, which could only be understood by those black canvas shoes. The mirrors and the mosaic applauded silently! Since then we have travelled with Aditya. We have seen him get drunk in love with a girl, play football on his computer. The foot stomping at a rock concert, the dejected walk from a defeat and the leap of faith at a victory! Been there done that.
         Together we came to know that it is not the end that we wait for; rather it is the journey which brings along all the experiences. A cauldron full of truth, love, despair and happiness. That is how we made it this far!
He never gave up and we never gave up on him. We always had faith. That is how we reached this far. The road to success was never easy.
         It was the day of the Conclave 2015. Aditya was a celebrity speaker there he looked out at the crowd of five thousand people. His walk from the wing should be perfect; he looked down at his shoes. They were ready. The left shoe looked at its right, smiled “Remember the first time we met?”, as Aditya walked onto the podium to tumultuous applause.