Cheriyal Paintings
Cheriyal in Warangal District, located 100 odd kms from Hyderabad is best described as a village that doesn't have a town-planning department.
It just has one main street (thankfully not given a grandiose name yet), the usual fortified Police Station, Bus Stand, other etceteras and rows of shops all along the above mentioned main street / road (incidentally, abutting SH1). My first (and second and third) impressions of Cheriyal were that I have somehow managed to stray into Hyderabad's Pot Market. Thanks to the profusion of multicoloured plastic pots stringed up and very much on display in most of the abovementioned shops.
But then, I hadn't wandered here on my noticeably loud motorcycle to gather material for a treatise on pots and pans and civic planning.
My quest is directed at finding the residences of two families of
artists in this village.
Because these are the remnants of a lineage that goes back to the 15th Century and the only ones keeping alive a school of scroll painting that takes its names from this village (now, town?), the Cheriyal school of scroll paintings.
Popular (and APTourism) belief is that the Cheriyal Scrolls depict stories from the Puranas and other Hindu legends and thrived primarily under the patronage of the Kakatiyas of Warangal.
But from what I had read about them, the scrolls seemed to have been more than just that. At one time, these scrolls used to be a very important part of the sociological and cultural milieu of Telengana (modern day districts of Karimnagar, Warangal, Mahbubnagar, Medak and Kurnool in Andhra Pradesh). And painted to narrate legends about the origin of a particular caste and the heroic deeds of one of its legendary heroes.
Some of the scrolls did depict episodes from Hindu mythology, but as is typical of India's cultural mosaic, the heroes of the caste in question were painted into the narrative through the brush strokes of the artist.
As is also typical of the great Indian tradition of storytelling, these scrolls were used as a visual aid by picture storyteller minstrels, usually to the accompaniment of folk songs and music.
Coming back to my own narrative, I got down to enquiring about the scroll painting families though I did not know the exact Telugu words for scrolls or paintings. Naturally, I was directed to a shop of the village's most famous "painter" where I could notice a couple of renditions of Raja Ravi Verma's calendars in Oil paint on woodboard amongst signboards, banner ads and number plates. I ask some more questions, (now slightly modded) and am finally asked to retrace my steps and turn right into a lane of the village.
After talking to probably half the people on the street (okay, road), I think I am finally on the right Kuccha road into the right lane. And I must say it was now time for me to form my fourth and fifth impressions, even while riding on, negotiating my way through bicycles, goats, buffaloes and the usual naked toddlers scampering
around. This part of Cheriyal did look a bit more like a village! I could even see a couple of houses that must have been at least 3-4 generations old depicting the typical Telengana style, with carved Wooden-Pillar Verandahs and tiled roofs and stone walls!
Yahoo!!
Most importantly, I also note a couple of 80 year olds (the Telengana Sun makes one assume lots of things, especially age) sunning themselves, their drooping moustaches as white as the turbans of their Head-dresses, which for me is the most symbolic mnemonic of the hardy village life of Telengana.
I finally manage to reach the residence of the painters and discover that both the families live in houses adjoining each other and (of course, of course) both the gentlemen have gone to Hyderabad for some "important" work. Incidentally, these neighbours who missed their date with my chronicling of all things quaint and quixotic are brothers.
Sure, there were a lot of stones handy but I couldn't see any crows.
The object of my researching questions was now the lady of the house with a door Jamb that looks more artistic than that of the house my Grandfather lived in Vizag for 35 years. And before my helmet came off and my SLR came into view, she was busy filling colours in a horizontal scroll that was one sixth of the circumference of my Engine Oil-stained riding pants leggings and two-thirds the length of my sun burnt arm.
By the way, when these scrolls had a bigger role to play than drawing Oohs and Aahs from some pseudo art collector's inebriated guests, they normally used to be around a Metre in width and ten in length. This lady with the willing smile and the ready quotes, however sadly is also a housewife in a hurry and needs to attend to her chores, so I need to really ration my curiosity, and my well-meaning questions.
First off, she vindicates my knowledge by saying that her husband's family hails from the legendary Nakashi Venkataramiah and has been based in Cheriyal from 1940 when they migrated to it from the temple town of Vemulawada. I ask some more questions and considering I am a prospective customer, the lady controls her impatience. I get to know that the canvas she is treating with bright colours is cloth treated with kaolin, gum and starch. By the by, I also gather that the paints
they use these days are usually store bought and the very concavity of the canvas is a dead give-away as in if this material is used to make a scroll, it certainly cannot be rolled as a scroll!
But then, who am I to judge, the rectangular scroll that I bought isn't a scroll painting at all as in it depicts a single episode of the entire story that the scroll should depict! And anyway, one certainly cannot expect to buy a completely genuine Cheriyal scroll painting the way one can buy mass produced Kalamkari bedsheets.
In fact, in the days gone by the painters used to be given the cloth for
the scroll and were also paid in cash, clothing, grain and a goat. Which does make my overall experience of paying Rs.150 for a 15 cms by 10 cms piece of what is at least something out of a genuine Cheriyal artist's home, really something worth writing about. And yes, given a chance (and the time) I will again be in Cheriyal with the amount of cash I need to pay in my pocket, a goat tied onto my pillion and my saddlebags heaped with grain.
After all, at least my mother would be really pleased to a level of bliss when she will not ask me why I keep "wasting my time", if the protagonist in the real Cheriyal painting that I get commissioned happens to be my departed Grandfather.
No?
It just has one main street (thankfully not given a grandiose name yet), the usual fortified Police Station, Bus Stand, other etceteras and rows of shops all along the above mentioned main street / road (incidentally, abutting SH1). My first (and second and third) impressions of Cheriyal were that I have somehow managed to stray into Hyderabad's Pot Market. Thanks to the profusion of multicoloured plastic pots stringed up and very much on display in most of the abovementioned shops.
But then, I hadn't wandered here on my noticeably loud motorcycle to gather material for a treatise on pots and pans and civic planning.
My quest is directed at finding the residences of two families of
artists in this village.
Because these are the remnants of a lineage that goes back to the 15th Century and the only ones keeping alive a school of scroll painting that takes its names from this village (now, town?), the Cheriyal school of scroll paintings.
Popular (and APTourism) belief is that the Cheriyal Scrolls depict stories from the Puranas and other Hindu legends and thrived primarily under the patronage of the Kakatiyas of Warangal.
But from what I had read about them, the scrolls seemed to have been more than just that. At one time, these scrolls used to be a very important part of the sociological and cultural milieu of Telengana (modern day districts of Karimnagar, Warangal, Mahbubnagar, Medak and Kurnool in Andhra Pradesh). And painted to narrate legends about the origin of a particular caste and the heroic deeds of one of its legendary heroes.
Some of the scrolls did depict episodes from Hindu mythology, but as is typical of India's cultural mosaic, the heroes of the caste in question were painted into the narrative through the brush strokes of the artist.
As is also typical of the great Indian tradition of storytelling, these scrolls were used as a visual aid by picture storyteller minstrels, usually to the accompaniment of folk songs and music.
Coming back to my own narrative, I got down to enquiring about the scroll painting families though I did not know the exact Telugu words for scrolls or paintings. Naturally, I was directed to a shop of the village's most famous "painter" where I could notice a couple of renditions of Raja Ravi Verma's calendars in Oil paint on woodboard amongst signboards, banner ads and number plates. I ask some more questions, (now slightly modded) and am finally asked to retrace my steps and turn right into a lane of the village.
After talking to probably half the people on the street (okay, road), I think I am finally on the right Kuccha road into the right lane. And I must say it was now time for me to form my fourth and fifth impressions, even while riding on, negotiating my way through bicycles, goats, buffaloes and the usual naked toddlers scampering
around. This part of Cheriyal did look a bit more like a village! I could even see a couple of houses that must have been at least 3-4 generations old depicting the typical Telengana style, with carved Wooden-Pillar Verandahs and tiled roofs and stone walls!
Yahoo!!
Most importantly, I also note a couple of 80 year olds (the Telengana Sun makes one assume lots of things, especially age) sunning themselves, their drooping moustaches as white as the turbans of their Head-dresses, which for me is the most symbolic mnemonic of the hardy village life of Telengana.
I finally manage to reach the residence of the painters and discover that both the families live in houses adjoining each other and (of course, of course) both the gentlemen have gone to Hyderabad for some "important" work. Incidentally, these neighbours who missed their date with my chronicling of all things quaint and quixotic are brothers.
Sure, there were a lot of stones handy but I couldn't see any crows.
The object of my researching questions was now the lady of the house with a door Jamb that looks more artistic than that of the house my Grandfather lived in Vizag for 35 years. And before my helmet came off and my SLR came into view, she was busy filling colours in a horizontal scroll that was one sixth of the circumference of my Engine Oil-stained riding pants leggings and two-thirds the length of my sun burnt arm.
By the way, when these scrolls had a bigger role to play than drawing Oohs and Aahs from some pseudo art collector's inebriated guests, they normally used to be around a Metre in width and ten in length. This lady with the willing smile and the ready quotes, however sadly is also a housewife in a hurry and needs to attend to her chores, so I need to really ration my curiosity, and my well-meaning questions.
First off, she vindicates my knowledge by saying that her husband's family hails from the legendary Nakashi Venkataramiah and has been based in Cheriyal from 1940 when they migrated to it from the temple town of Vemulawada. I ask some more questions and considering I am a prospective customer, the lady controls her impatience. I get to know that the canvas she is treating with bright colours is cloth treated with kaolin, gum and starch. By the by, I also gather that the paints
they use these days are usually store bought and the very concavity of the canvas is a dead give-away as in if this material is used to make a scroll, it certainly cannot be rolled as a scroll!
But then, who am I to judge, the rectangular scroll that I bought isn't a scroll painting at all as in it depicts a single episode of the entire story that the scroll should depict! And anyway, one certainly cannot expect to buy a completely genuine Cheriyal scroll painting the way one can buy mass produced Kalamkari bedsheets.
In fact, in the days gone by the painters used to be given the cloth for
the scroll and were also paid in cash, clothing, grain and a goat. Which does make my overall experience of paying Rs.150 for a 15 cms by 10 cms piece of what is at least something out of a genuine Cheriyal artist's home, really something worth writing about. And yes, given a chance (and the time) I will again be in Cheriyal with the amount of cash I need to pay in my pocket, a goat tied onto my pillion and my saddlebags heaped with grain.
After all, at least my mother would be really pleased to a level of bliss when she will not ask me why I keep "wasting my time", if the protagonist in the real Cheriyal painting that I get commissioned happens to be my departed Grandfather.
No?
posted by Anand Vishwanadha at 5:53 AM
2 Comments:
I googled 'Cheriyal', and found your blog. Glad I did. I share with you, a love for India, travel, photography, art and writing. Check out my blog. I would love to read your book...I did have an invite for its release, but couldn't make it.
Hi Sadhana, thanks for your comments. Thing is I don't blog much about my travels these days, do blog (a bit) about this and that and muse. Do mail me anytime.
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