I often ponder whether it has always been in human nature to collect a souvenir from all the places they visit in their lifetime. Like a memory to treasure, like a story to narrate, like a tradition to uphold, like a culture to reminisce.
I too was wandering the narrow lanes around the Western Temples in Khajuraho searching for one such keepsake. In this little town, I found small shops with postcards carrying elaborate pictures showcasing the grandeur of the temple architecture - the millenia old stones carved with perfection into deities, apsaras, animals and ornate designs with hand made finesse. Among other things were brass figurines, windchimes adorned with little bells and tribal art & craft pieces glorifying their ancestry.
Though I did buy a couple of these souvenirs, it was another storefront across the street that caught my eye, and a few moments later captured my soul. This was a small shop hosting more than a couple thousand pieces of intricate handmade art - "Krishna Artist and Jewellery". This shop’s entrance greets you with a small corner dedicated to the artist, his palette, colours and brushes. But that barely hinted at the wonders inside. A wooden cot covered in multitude of paintings, all four walls embellished with the paintings held in simple wooden frames. Krishna raas leela, the Mughal imagination, the Rajput darbar and hunting scenes, the majestic elephants, camels and horses - all spoke volumes of the grandeur of the talented hands behind the brushstrokes. These paintings came in different sizes - as small as a postcard to as large as a window AC. Being painted on thin pieces of cloth, old postcards and pages made them even more antique.
While I was absorbing my breathtaking surroundings, there walked in a 5 '7'’ embodiment of humility. He introduced himself as the owner of the shop. I found myself admiring his art aloud, prompting him to share that this craft had been passed down through generations in his family. He spoke about his art with such zeal, unbothered by whether it would lead to a sale. For nearly half an hour, he patiently engaged with my curiosity, answering every question with quiet enthusiasm. Then, with calm pride, he walked me through both his earliest and most recent creations—including a delicate sketch of Lord Ganesha he had drawn at the age of five.Considering the intricate detail in his artwork—each piece taking anywhere from days to months to complete—one might expect some trace of pride. Instead, what shone through was true self-effacement. His prices reflected that too: modest and fair, with no hint of markup or the usual shopkeeper mindset. He was content with his art and respected it beyond money.
This person was happy in the small corner of his world, painting elephants as it also resembles the meaning of his own name - Gajraj! And here we are, sitting on our mighty horses in the middle of large cities, squabbling daily over petty things and running after more money. How are these two worlds so different? Gajraj with immense talent yet hiding in his safe haven, us with nothing but still wanting to conquer the endless world.
In Khajuraho I witnessed two beauties just next to each other — the magnificent Western Group of Temples, crafted by unknown artists yet celebrated for their awe-inspiring art, stand proud — while Gajraj, with his brushes, remains unfazed, whether perched on a pedestal or tucked away in a quiet corner. One is etched in stone, immortalized by time and tourists alike; the other lives quietly through delicate strokes on cloth and paper, his legacy breathing through every handmade piece. Both moved me — one by its grandeur, the other by its grace.
Comments
Post a Comment