KOLKATA: The hands that paint gods and goddesses of Hindu mythology in this part of Bengal rise five times a day to the west for namaz. After reciting the surah, they go back to singing songs from the Ramayana and Mahabharata — handed down to them for generations — as they fill in their patachitras with paint.
A 160-km ride from Kolkata (the last stretch of it bumpy) brings you to Naya village in West Midnapore's Pingla block, where Muslim artists, mostly with Hindu names, carry ahead a tradition unparalleled anywhere in the country. This colourful village has the highest concentration of Patuas, a community of scroll (pata) painters.
Having embraced Islam has never made these folk artists shy away from their links with the Hindu religion. Though Islamic rituals mark all their important social ceremonies, they paint Hindu gods and goddesses and sing their praise without hesitation. As a final proof of their secularism, they share the same surname — Chitrakar.
"Knowing Hindu mythology comes very natural to a Chitrakar because the pantheon is integral to our traditional art. It may be due to our affinity with Hindu religion that most of us have Hindu names. But what is in a name, anyway," said 44-year-old Sambhu Chitrakar. His parents, devout Muslims, named him after Shiv, the god of destruction.
The Patuas have been practising this art for centuries. Most Chitrakars never attended school. The most well read are a few middle school dropouts. The tales of Hindu mythology have been passed on from generation to generation by word of mouth. So is the art.
A pat consists of about six to 10 panels of paintings rolled into one. Each painting depicts an episode. The scroll is unfolded frame by frame correspondingly during the narration.
The artwork is done on handmade paper, which is later pasted on pieces of cloth. Another fascinating fact is that these gifted artists (every family has the gene) still use plants and minerals to prepare the paint the traditional way. Some of the plants used for extracting colours are turmeric, leaves of vegetables like beans, flowers like aparajita, rice powder, betel leaf and lime, and fluid extracted from wood-apple (bel).
"Buying colours from the market will make things easier. But then we would not be sticking to our tradition. We hold it very dear. Preparing colours is a part of the art. I am sure my children will carry on in this traditional way," said 38-year-old Swarna Chitrakar.
"When I was a child, I used to see the elders painting images of Hindu gods and goddesses and narrating the epic by way of singing. It is natural for even a child to know about Hindu mythology. I was always fascinated by the bright colours," said Swarna.
Even as Swarna squatted in her courtyard with paint and brush, her youngest daughter Nupur (7) joined her, creating magic on the canvas with her tender hands. There was no cajoling, no admonishing. Like Nupur, other children in Chitrakar families start picking up the tricks of the profession very early. No one teaches them, they learn it on their own. There are no retakes. The brush strokes are uninterrupted. The children pick up the songs as they go.
"Even though we are Muslims, Ramayan and Mahabharat are equally part of our lives and we are proud of it. The day we decide to do away with the Hindu epics, our age-old tradition will cease to exist," said Gurupada Chitrakar.
Sita-Haran, Ras-Lila, Kansa-Vadha, Chandi-pat are some of the popular tales the Patuas depict in their scrolls.
Even two decades ago, Chitrakars would roam door to door to entertain people. They would narrate the epic from the scrolls they have painted. In return they were rewarded mostly in kind. As a result, in the '80s and '90s, many youngsters started switching to other professions to earn a better livelihood.
The Chitrakars no more restrict their painting to just Hindu mythology. They have started integrating social, political and environment issues in their work. "An artist has a social responsibility. I was deeply moved by the 9/11 attack and created a scroll depicting the evils of terrorism," said Manu Chitrakar. The scroll, comprising eight paintings, took Manu about a month but fetched him a handsome return. "An American was so impressed that he instantly bought it for Rs 10,000," gushed Manu.
The second coming has resulted in a huge turnaround for Anwar. He won a national award in 2008. "I won it for the Chandi pat I created. It was a great honour, apart from the cash prize of Rs 1 lakh that obviously came in handy," said Anwar. He is now working on two replicas of his award-winning scroll for which he has been paid in advance by two NRIs.
The Patuas' ability of absorbing current and relevant issues in their art has fetched them bigger patronage and they have gone global. Many Patuas now travel across the globe on invitation and their paintings are displayed in museums across Europe and America. NGOs and government agencies also engage them in their projects and campaigns against HIV/AIDS, female infanticide and human trafficking.
"Earlier, a Patua would make just about Rs 400 a month. Now, they earn anything between Rs 10,000 and 12,000. The Patuas have moved with the times, while retaining their tradition," said Amitava Bhattacharya, founder director of Bangalnatak.com, one of the organizations that has contributed enormously to the revival of the Patuas.
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