Banking to Brushstrokes

 

by Rama Sriram, Amalfi

It’s not easy to leave behind a stable career, especially one that you have invested in for years and your family has proudly proclaimed as a great feat. Although growing up, I lived in the most humble of homes and studied in the simplest of schools, my aspirations were a cut-above. I wanted to make it big in banking, and tirelessly studied atop hot balconies and shadowy corners of my home to eventually make it a reality. I soon got married to someone who shared my passion for success (Hi Sriram, hope you’re reading this :)) and we found ourselves frequently relocating to different cities. Apart from the plethora of cultural experiences I was fortunate enough to taste, I could no longer ignore the mounting familial responsibilities, especially with two kids at home. Shortly after, I decided to leave the very job I worked all my life for - it was tough to part with something that afforded me the financial security and independence that I craved, but I battled with the feeling of guilt of not being present at home with my children. And so I found myself as a home-maker, bustling away in household chores and slowly growing disheartened at the thought of not being able to contribute to my family financially. 

One afternoon, with my kids asleep and the house finally quiet, I found a quintessential picture of baby Krishna and decided to put paintbrush to the canvas and engage some of my spare time in painting it. As I got into it, I found myself transported to a different world, away from the noise of my inner-most thoughts, a most serene, meditative place where all that mattered was me and the paintbrush dancing along the canvas to the tune of my mind. The colours mixing away was music to my soul, and watching Krishna’s fully painted eyes glance back at me was like an answer to my prayers. As I stepped back and took in the sight of my first creation, a sense of pride washed over me. Friends gushed with admiration for it and encouraged me to further pursue it and I, half-nervous and half-excited over the joy of a newfound passion, felt emboldened to do so. Every afternoon since, I started my chores with the anticipation of retreating to a silent corner, brush in hand and canvas before me, awaiting my next creation. 

During my early years of learning, I fell in love with Tanjore Art - a centuries-old Chola tradition fallen by the wayside of the modern days that I am keen on reviving. These paintings are meticulously made with intricate designs, embossed with golden foil, and adorned with semi-precious stones, imbuing them with a sense of regal beauty. This form of painting is a testament to the artists that came before me and their true mettle, and glorifies my southern heritage; it is a reminder that beauty and elegance can be found in the smallest of details, and I pride myself in being a small vessel of change in advocating for the same. 

Over the last 10 years, I have completed formal training of this art and many others such as Kerala murals, Madhubani, and landscapes & portraits in oils and acrylics. I now have a humble social media following and clientele of people equally passionate about celebrating Indian folk art. I have recently also started to undertake personal classes for Tanjore and Mural art, and count myself blessed to be a part of the Hiranandani community where many such art enthusiasts co-exist and help spread the message of keeping Indian folk art alive.

 With each passing day, I am grateful for picking up that brush 10 years ago, finding my true calling in art and sharing it with others. It is my hope that, through my art and teachings, people can relearn older Indian art forms and continue celebrating Indian heritage the right way. As for me, I will be spending my afternoons in a cozy corner, brush in my hand, delving into my love for art, one stroke at a time.