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Radha Chitrakar
Artist: Radha Chitrakar
My name is Radha, let me tell you about my life. My parents were poor, and there were seven people in my family. The circumstances surrounding my marriage are somewhat strange: because my father passed away prior to my marriage, my sisters and mother pushed me to get married at the age of twelve. If I were to wait until I was fifteen, my family would have to pay about 12,000 rupees as a dowry to my husband’s family. There was no way that my family could afford such an expense. Luckily, because I was twelve, my future husband and his father asked for nothing. We married, but the truth is that I had no desire to be in the relationship. Quite frankly, I never have had a solid conception of what a “husband” is. I would care for my husband’s home and cook there, but I would return to my mother’s home to sleep. In that way, my life has been fragmented.
My husband moved from Narayangarh to Naya, my village, after we married. He worked as an agricultural laborer when he was young, plowing the land, husking the rice, or doing whatever could be done during the monsoon season. He also worked as a servant in a nearby village—they gave him food and 8 rupees per day as a salary. Eventually, because he became very ill, they stopped paying him. For years he could not work. We needed food, and I supplemented our income by making and selling clay dolls. The land on which we lived was highly contested. We didn’t have any space or rooms in our home—we had nothing! This land where we live now belonged to a rich man during the first years of our marriage. Luckily, party workers contested the sale of this land to a rich man from Jalchak, and we were able to purchase our plot for very little money.
Eventually, our life together began to change. One day, my uncle Dukhushaym told me that Hiren Mitra, a man from Calcutta, wanted to buy some scrolls, and he advised me to tell my husband to start painting these scrolls. I bought paper, paint, and brushes so that he could teach my husband the craft. At that point, he and I had three children, and we worked out a new income arrangement. I asked my husband to look after our youngest child because he stayed in the house painting most of the day. I would go out on the street and beg at in the early morning but early afternoon I would always return home to cook lunch for all of us. I knew very little about how to paint scrolls but started to learn more as my husband encouraged me. When our children went to bed and I had finished the housework, we would light a kerosene lamp and paint till late at night.
After having spent many months perfecting his painting skills, my uncle asked my husband to join him on a trip to Calcutta to meet Hiren Mitra. To the joy and surprise of my husband, he returned home with 800 rupees in exchange for some of the scrolls that he had created. I told him to keep painting, and his success continued. A woman named T. Lal would buy scrolls from him for 25 rupees each, oftentimes buying ten or twelve scrolls at once. She helped us survive! Our scroll business grew, and we continued to invest ourselves in the traditions connected to what we depicted on the scrolls. My husband and I learned the traditional singing connected to the paintings that we created on our scrolls. Before going to Delhi, I practiced everyday so that I could be a success and win a few hearts! If I made a mistake, my uncle would correct me by singing properly. Both I and my husband learned this way.
Our first trip to Delhi offered us a variety of opportunities. We stayed in the city for a month and sold many scrolls. After listening to us sing and seeing our scrolls, an official in Bhopal, Mr. Bhattacharya, told my husband that he sang well and asked if he was willing to participate if a fair that would be organized in Delhi later that year. My husband responded with an enthusiastic “Yes!”, and we returned to Naya, awaiting the invitation from Mr. Bhattacharya. After our good fortune in Delhi, we decided that our living conditions in Naya were not acceptable, and we hired a mason to construct a new home. Instead of using mud for walls and a thatched roof, we used cement and concrete pillars. Soon after, the invitation from Mr. Bhattacharya arrived.
In villages, people enjoy scrolls that depict Puranic and religious themes. Most people living in rural areas don’t care much for social or modern themes. When I travel to communities outside of Naya, people crowd around and seem to really like our scroll work. It is amazing how attentive and generous they are—sometimes they pay me money, and sometimes we barter with rice and potatoes. I would tell them, “What can I do? I have a family, a sick husband and children to look after and feed.” I can’t expect people to help me for ever. I must earn—it’s a solid work ethic.
Our good fortune is indicative of Naya as a whole village: its economy and people are doing well nowadays. They can eat their fill, there is no dearth of clothes, and people live with a solid roof over their heads. There are very few beggars today. As for my own family, it won’t be possible to look after my kids all my life. I’ve told them to dedicate themselves to their own families. In fact, my two eldest sons have moved away from Naya. My husband and I are old now, and the independence of my sons is important. They will have more responsibilities and will have to work more, save more, and progress in society.