Wellesley’s sepoys set up at Vizianagaram

July, 2022

It took us four and a half nights to paint this on the mountainside. By 'us,' I mean the kids, Preetha, and me. When I was asked if it was possible to paint a massive picture on the mountain's surface, I answered, ‘Absolutely possible!’

In four or five days?

Yes.

That's how it started. A new campus at the foot of an uninhabited mountain, far from the city of Vizianagaram. Usually, it’s scorching hot here. Suddenly, the July monsoon brought peace, along with some concern. It rained every day. The mountain became slippery. When we started, I had no idea what we would paint! It began with a river—Jamini Roy's river. As the day's sunlight faded and the rain stopped, we began our work. All night long. We worked under the lights. Not everyone painted. The mud and water from the mountain would make a mess, and Bishwajit, Radhe, and Manohar would clean it up. I would make the plans. Chiku and Sanat would hold the ladder. Samprita, Jisha, Subhasmita, Kiran, Sajid, Devi, Ayan and Aman would do the painting. I would shout. If I didn’t like something, I’d erase it. If we needed broad strokes, Ayan would make the bold lines. Sayak, Swatilekha, and Anamika would stare, mixing turpentine with paint. Late in the night, I would shout, ‘Sayak, tired?’

No, sir!

Need white paint, thick white.

By then, Samprita, Jisha, Subhasmita, Kiran, Sajid, and Devi were working 159 feet up, past the slippery rocks. There are many optical illusions here. From afar, you can clearly see the face of Lord Shiva, human figures. But when you climb the mountain to work, you can’t spot them. From below, I’d tell Sajid and Kiran to make dots. They trusted me and kept drawing lines, making dots. When the paint needed to be spread like smoke, Samprita would climb up a 20-foot ladder. Ayan tirelessly sprayed paint. As the last stroke of Shiva was completed, everyone applauded.

In the dead of night, I had a huge argument with Preetha. After all, my wife isn't a student! She painted the face of Saptarishi and climbed down. Everyone was hungry. Preetha and Harika took the car to the city. It was 2:30 a.m. Such scenes aren't common in this town. The police blocked their way. There are many more stories. Feeling thirsty! In the middle of the night, Karan made coffee. That was his job. As morning came, Vishba, David, Aman, BK, and Raj cleaned up the leftovers.

Team game. Shiva, Ganga, river-based civilizations, the birth of agriculture, Saptarishi, primitive cave paintings—together, they represent ancient India! Jamini Roy, Nandalal, Saura tribal art, graffiti, Van Gogh’s Starry Night—all merged together. The painting is called ‘Civilization’ or ‘India.’ Mahadev's moon emerged from Sajid's brush. Can this be called fresco? A painting on the wall. Our ancestors once painted on cave walls. Bhimbetka, Raisen, Kanthibaghar—these places still have such paintings. Later, the sepoys of Wellesley discovered the cave paintings of Ajanta. Painting is in our blood, which is why even after all this time, ‘Chitrasala’ remains so popular. A story comes to mind. Wall paintings are called ‘frescoes.’ Such paintings often get lost from public view. Even though the famous cave paintings of Ajanta were mentioned in Xuanzang’s books, many doubted their existence because Xuanzang himself had not seen them.

Much later, while returning from war, Wellesley’s sepoys set up camp in Ajanta. It was then that the Ajanta caves were discovered. Wellesley’s sepoys are said to have used the Ajanta caves as stables for their horses. When it comes to frescoes or wall paintings, ‘The Last Supper’ always comes to mind—Leonardo da Vinci's immortal masterpiece. This painting was made on a brick wall. For a long time, people in Italy forgot about this painting. It is said that even French soldiers used this room as a stable for their horses.

Anything is possible. These things remain. The festive night remains. A few students, following their teacher's words, paint a steep, wet mountain. In the middle of the night. Even the Madam and Sir joined hands. This is called faith.

Suddenly, the lights went off. Primitive darkness descended abruptly. Van Gogh’s Starry Night glittered in enamel paint.

Magic. Realism! Magic realism.