#samridhi writeups

[ramayantika]

We don't talk much about Saraswati but here's my little imagination. (Arts version + more stress on painting)

When a child starts off with learning any art form, be it music, dance or painting, Saraswati devi would look at the child lovingly and whisper, "Bless you, my child. May your mind be filled with creativity and wisdom so you may bring beauty and knowledge to the world around you in later years."

When the same child juggles between school and their art, she might pat their head and say, "I know dearest one, it's hard to balance both. But don't leave your heart, don't leave your art. Don't leave me. There is so much to explore and experience in your craft."

When someone demotivates the child when they pursue their artform seriously, she throws a glare at that person and stands with the child, again whispering in their ears, "Sssh, don't listen to such ignorant fools. These people can't even create a small creative piece that can bring joy to at least one person, yet they stand before you as if they know the best. Do not worry. I blessed you when you started out and I shall bless you always. Keep bringing beauty and joy to the world, but foremost to you."

When the child grows up to be a successful artist in their field, apart from the child's family and friends, the godess rises up from the lamps lit on the side of the stage and hugs them, saying, "I am so proud of you to not give in to negativity around you. The gods living in swarga can follow their art easily but you humans face a lot of hurdles. Thank you for your contribution to the arts and bringing happiness through your work." The artist feel a gentle warmth throughout their body, yet doesn't understand from where does the feeling arise.

Years passed, the artist made new artists and paved way for many. Rising amidst the negativity and so-called stereotypes, they made their mark in the world. Just like every human, the artist too died and has countless of people mourning for them. Saraswati holds their hand and smiles. She says, "Your time for art is over on earth, but here in swarga in all the other lokas, your time has begun. You aren't getting paid like you used to on earth, but I think you will be happy to spread your art and teach us also about your work. Some of the gods love painting and have admired your work. They want to discuss about your thoughts and how you created that. I would love if you showcase some of your creativity here too."

And thus, all the painters who died on earth, some who had great names while some painted just for fun in their rooms to discover their long lost love for painting after being busy in their jobs to provide for themselves and their families. No matter, if they were recognized by people or not, if they had large scale exhibitions or not, each and every painter was personally welcomed by Saraswati.

They say, Swarga is a very beautiful place. Surely, the divine architect, Vishwakarma has done a great job but it's the paintings created by all the souls that left the earth beautifying the place even more. The children of the deva and devis often created doodles with the children of the mortals that left the earth way before their time. The mansions of the gods had their walls adorned with paintings from both the heavenly artists and the mortals turned heavenly artists.

Here's a message by Saraswati: May your life never be devoid of colours. If life would be your body, your organs are your paintbrush, your pencils and your canvas. Respect your art always for not everybody is blessed with it. May your creativity flourish. Keep learning and create beautiful pieces of art. Namaskar.

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I don't know this suddenly hit me in the morning. Tell me if you want more versions of saraswati talking to us with other aspects of art like dance and music etc and academia.

[ramayantika]

Someone asks me, 'What's your first memory?'

I go thirteen years back.

Pink walls, granite floors and a small garden,

A humble abode of a dancing family.

Thirteen years ago I saw Guruji's twinkling eyes.

His wrists were thin, old age wearing his once strong limbs,

Yet, on beat, he would transform into a warrior ready with a bow and arrow.

Thirteen years ago, Gurumaa with her yesteryear grace still intact would turn into a young nayika

And would often say how biting nails will turn us into a football.

The large Nataraja murti adorned with garlands and flowers would always smile at me.

I no longer know if I imagined Him smiling or he really was smiling.

But a child of four summers knows magic and so I would see their son dancing just like the murti would.

Why won't the dancing God manifest in mortals?

She was the one who taught me magic through dance.

I was Krishna, I was a Gopi. I was a deer and sometimes a blooming lotus.

She would sing in a different language and I would know what would I become.

Stories came alive in front of my eyes and immersed themselves in my fingertips and feet.

Thirteen years back, a child of four summers, danced in a small room where her imagination came alive,

Where Gods and Goddesses descended to the floor of the dancing family's abode,

Where the oldest of stories and traditions was passed down to me,

Where irrespective of language barriers, I had begun to learn the language of Art,

That, dear is my first memory.