Superbly talented 43 year old Sahajan Chitrakar has made a mark for himself with his massive  patachitras. The eldest son of well-known patua, Bahar Chitrakar, Sahajan was born in Habichak village in Purba Medinipur but moved to Naya in Paschim Medinipur with his parents as a baby. 

As a child of six, he received his initial training from his parents  Bahar and Sehera, learning how to wield a brush. When he was about eight years old, his maternal grandfather, the famous patua, (the late) Pulin Chitrakar took him under his wing, teaching him the basics of drawing. He learnt how to sketch figures, how to draw a closed fist vs an open hand, a seated figure vs a standing figure and so on. 

He gave up studies after the eight standard and at sixteen, he began training under his paternal uncle, Yakub Chitrakar who taught him the basic lessons of the patachitra tradition: how to plan a patachitra, frame by frame, with the story in mind, how to decorate and finish it and make it eye-catching.  His uncle would recite a verse of the song and sketch a frame to illustrate it, and Sahajan, not having learnt the song as yet, would follow his actions faithfully. It was in this manner that he began to learn how to illustrate a song. He would accompany his uncle when he visited villages to perform and after he had developed sufficient skills to paint his own scrolls, Sahajan too would set out on his own to nearby villages. He was still a teenager then. Walking ten or twelve km each day,  he would carry with him his Manosha Mangal and Ramayan scrolls, performing either as his audience desired. He still has these scrolls and hopes to find a buyer.

Sahajan however began to feel frustrated with the pace of his familial occupation. He wasn’t being able to earn enough and his parents were dreadfully poor. Desperate for money, Sahajan quit painting, much against his father’s will and left home to assist a silversmith in Ghatal town, over 100km away.  He was 22 years old at that time.  Sahajahan returned home after two years, with the intention of starting his own small silver workshop. But shortage of money continued to plague him. One day, a slight error in a necklace he had crafted led to a cancelled order. Unable to find the money to even melt the silver down, Sahajan, in frustration,  decided to go back to his family’s traditional occupation, if only to earn something temporarily. 

His father took on the responsibility of selling Sahajan’s paintings and gradually a little money began to trickle in. Hoping that a marriage dowry would help their situation, Sahajan’s wedding was arranged. Unfortunately, things did not go as planned as his in-laws were even worse off at the time. However, his grandmother, Pulin’s wife, determined that the wedding would take place, came to the rescue. (Fate however had other plans for the destitute family : whatever little jewellery  Asoma had brought into her new family was soon stolen, along with the silver necklace that was still waiting to be melted…)

Taking his misfortune in his stride, Sahajan now began to accompany his father to Kolkata. On one such trip, sometime in 2000, he visited a gallery whose owner wished to buy a few of his scrolls. It was his first visit to a gallery and the massive works of art on the gallery walls created a deep impression in young Sahajan’s mind.  If massive works on canvas could sell, why couldn’t a massive patachitra sell in a gallery as well? The desire to create a patachitra of extraordinary dimensions took a hold of him. His heart racing, Sahajan decided that this would be his goal. 

His father was aghast. Smaller pats could be created in a relatively short time and since they were inexpensive, sold faster than larger ones. He did his level best to dissuade his son, but Sahajan was not about to give up. He decided to divide his time between the regular sized and his special scrolls. 

His first attempts at painting larger than life figures on scrolls were not very successful. Unused to the dimensions of the paper, the figures were initially way out of proportion. Exasperated, Sahajan decided to put his dream on hold.  He returned to painting the smaller scrolls and gradually, his work began to be noticed. He was invited to Delhi by a potential buyer a few years later and was also shown around the various galleries there. 

Returning to his village with the memory of the Delhi galleries fresh in his mind, Sahajan was raring to give the large scrolls a go, once more. His father was livid at his son’s audacity – questioning his boldness - his desire to pit himself against educated urban painters, when he was nothing but a poor village artist.  

To keep the family peace, Sahajan continued making smaller scrolls by day, but when night fell, he was back to his outsized “drawing board”. This time, he hit upon an unusual plan to resolve the body proportion issue. He lay himself down on a scroll and did a rough outline of his own body. He analyzed the result carefully and then he started work, little by little. Sahajan was now 28.

His resolve received further impetus , when his Osama Bin Laden scrolls (standard sized), which he had made while the subject was still living, received a lot of appreciation. An invitation to visit the US consulate in Kolkata resulted in the sale of all the Bin Laden scrolls he had with him. There was no stopping him now.

He devoted two hours every night to meticulously paint on scrolls 4.5’ wide and anything between 15’ to 30’ long. It would take him up to six months to create each masterpiece. The degree of detailing that he put in was unparalleled. His first large scroll was bought by IGNCA, Delhi. Word spread, and gradually, he began to find buyers mostly among museums and individual collectors in Delhi at first. Galleries too began exhibiting his scrolls. Back in Kolkata, he was invited to paint on massive canvases as decoration for puja pandals. Some of his fellow patuas in his village, inspired by his success, gathered courage to emulate him. 

When the covid lockdown began, many patuas put down their impressions on their scrolls. Sahajan too created a few outstanding works on the theme. But the virus brought his earnings to a grinding halt. Not one to wallow in misery, Sahajan took up temporary jobs to fend for his family - even working with stone masons in Bangalore.  His fellow labourers would look on with wonder as he worked by day and painted by night. 

Sahajan, who has received numerous awards, is currently working on an enormous scroll on the theme of the third wave of corona. It will have three borders indicating the three waves and will take him more than a year to complete this. Side by side he is also working on smaller 3.5‘ by 4’ formats as well as black and white scrolls, hoping and praying, like so many artists like him that all will be well.