India is a hopeless country and I must shift to the US to pursue education." "You say Picasso, I hear Legend." "Damn girl, did you hear the new gig by Bieber?" "Bollywood movies are hopeless, imma watch some American rom-com instead." Somewhere between these thin lines, we've actually forgotten the incantation casted by our country's artisans. We are surrounded by mentalities that think coolness decreases with an increase in fondness towards our country's artists and artisans. Such is the condition of Indian artisans, lost in the big crowds of people trying to be modernized (westernized, if it makes any difference). The falling culture of ours demands nothing but praise and awareness.
How in God's name can we not give due credit to the land that has nurtured us? Somewhere, in a small town in Rajasthan, a craftsman must be shaping a doll, pouring all of his endless experiences and anecdotes into that one speck of wood. Somewhere in Kerala, a dancer must be performing Kathakali by reflecting upon all of his/her escapades. Somewhere in the beautiful town of Katra, a woman must be singing a Dogri geet while reminiscing about the days when her culture was valued. Even after 73 years of Independence, we still follow the principles of the culture that they have left behind. Artists and Artisans are an untold story. It's extremely imperative to bring their stories to every ear. There's a lot more to Indian culture than what meets the eye. Why can't we get lost in Indian thalis instead of heavy Mexican platters? Why can't we spend an evening listening to Lucky Ali instead of Ariana Grande? Why can't we not read the verses from Geetanjali before reading a Shakespearean sonnet? What is the mere use of existence when we can't foster the jewels that reside on the same land as ours? The data schemes that one often tends to hear about how the government is saving the artisans from exploitation are neither realistic nor do they reveal the actual status of the craftsman industry. They are humans like us. Or I should say that they are better humans than magnificently modernized humans like us.
Indian artisans are not just creators; they are the soul of our heritage, preserving traditions that have been passed down for generations. Yet, as modernization sweeps over us like an unstoppable wave, these artisans remain invisible, their art reduced to souvenirs in tourist markets rather than being recognized as the masterpieces they truly are. The irony is painful—our ancestors wove the finest muslins and carved the most intricate sculptures, and today, we barely acknowledge their existence. We wear clothes inspired by global brands but rarely appreciate the handloom weaves of Varanasi or the Phulkari of Punjab. We decorate our homes with mass-produced décor, ignoring the vibrant Madhubani paintings or the exquisite Pattachitra that once adorned the walls of our forefathers.
It’s time to change the narrative. Revival doesn’t happen through mere nostalgia; it requires conscious action. We must make an effort to support artisans by choosing their work over factory-made alternatives. It begins with simple decisions—opting for a handwoven saree over a machine-made one, investing in local pottery instead of imported ceramics, and choosing indigenous musical instruments over digitalized tunes.
Social media and digital platforms can play a transformative role in this movement. Why not amplify the voices of these artisans through online spaces? Why not make their art visible in a world where trends dictate preferences? A tweet, an Instagram post, or a short video showcasing their work can create ripples of awareness. The digital age should not mean the death of traditional arts; rather, it should be a bridge that connects the past to the future.
We are sailing on the ocean of negligence, far from acceptance of our own identity, with having no plans of returning. If you're not proud of India's craft, you're not capable of even turning up to idols of Sita mata, the mother of Madhubani art or Saraswati mata, the devi of music. We are the verses of Geeta and the Holy Quran. We lie in the purity of Sri Guru Granth Sahab and the Holy Bible. We lie in freshness of chai and pakodas. We exist in the aroma of fresh Gajras. We are, instead, the extra spice in the food from a dhaba, the soothing beats of a Tabla and the melodies of a flute. We are the beauty of ghungroos and aalta. We are the soul of Bharat Mata and right now we are letting her curl up and smother.
Art is not just a reflection of culture; it is its very heartbeat. Every brushstroke, every woven thread, every carved figure tells a story waiting to be heard. If we do not preserve these traditions, we risk losing not just art but the very essence of who we are as a civilization.
