Sunday was a respite, between my official work, as I decided to make the best of my leisure time to travel to Raghurajpur, a crafts village 14 kms away from Puri town. We leave the hustle and bustle of the temple town and the seashore and soon enter the rural Odisha. The impact of cyclone Fani is still visible with many uprooted trees. A plentiful monsoon has flooded the nearby ponds, and the adjoining fields are flush with paddy sowed.
A stone arch welcomes you, and a small structure proclaims your entry into the village of artisans, who have, for generations, kept alive the tradition of pattachitra, intricate painting done on fabric and tala pattachitra are engraved paintings done on palm-leaf scrolls. The art forms date back to 5 BC. The Gotipura dance form, the precursor to Odissi, was found here too, with all-time greats like Kelu Charan Mahapatra living in the vicinity.
The cloth is soaked in water with ground tamarind seeds to give weight, a coat of chalk and gum added to the layer. The fabric now like a canvas is rubbed with stones to polish and smoothen over which the paintings are done, often with very fine mouse hairbrush. A few old artists still avoid synthetic products and use only earth colours.
A group accost us as soon we, Radha my wife and I, arrive in a car insisting us to visit their home-cum-studios-cum showrooms about 140 of them in all. The village itself is two parallel rows divided by a temple dedicated to Bhuasuni. Every wall of every home is a gallery as the patterns are displayed as murals. The whole family is engaged in artistic or creative work.
Masks and dolls made of papier-mâché, using cow dung as an intermittent layer, painted in vibrant colours are a speciality too. Brightly painted coconut shell hangings also are popular. The low footfall is palpable, as the young men accosting us plead not to ignore their homes.
Though the village is touted as the first heritage art village by INTACH, they get no monetary assistance and have to rely on visitors who drop-down, their numbers dwindling each year.
A young artist takes me inside his house and unrolls huge and the most exquisite paintings as we sit with awe at the enormous efforts that have gone for creating each of the masterpieces. I negotiate for a rather large canvas but could pay only by a credit card.
Quickly a few friends appear and swipe my card, and after a few tensed moments for the seller, the payment advise appears on the screen, much to his relief.
They do participate in fairs, like Kala Goda in Delhi, or Saras Mela in Kolkata but the art form is not really in the top of the demand chart of urban India these days, they rued. I would have loved to stay for longer and interact with them, but I had two more stops and had to rush.
“Please sir, write about us and ask your friends to visit our village,” they all pleaded, as my car moved on, with a roll of expensive canvas, a smaller one of Goddess Kali and a small Jagannath.
Sampath Kumar
Intrépide Voix
