Art From the Heart

Sri C. G. Sai Prakash is a member of the staff at the Sri Sathya Sai Digital Studio  in Prasanthi Nilayam. He started at the Sri Sathya Sai Primary School and completed his education in Swami’s educational institutions, culminating in a Master’s degree in biosciences. A gifted artist, he is also a good sitar [stringed instrument] player.

“I am sorry. All the white chart papers are over in the mandir [temple] stores.” I was then studying in the Sri Sathya Sai Primary School and all the necessary items for our daily needs had to be brought from the Prasanthi Nilayam stores by our teachers.

As a 6th class boy, I felt helpless and was very sad. Christmas was only two days away. I quickly borrowed some ‘fevi-gum’ [paper glue] from someone and started sticking one-sided paper back to back. Lots of old project papers were lying around, and with some effort and fervent prayer, I pressed hard these thick papers to make them into a big drawing sheet.

“Hey boy, come on. Why do you have that black pen? Black is not good, I will sign with a silver pen.” Swami, His eyes gleaming with pride, beckoned me from a distance of about 20 feet on that beautiful Christmas morning.

Before I knew it, Swami was gone with my drawing. He went around like a proud mother showing that pencil drawing of Jesus Christ to all the dignitaries sitting on the upper veranda. Needless to say, He gave it His silver touch: “With Love, Baba,” and dutifully came to me and gave the drawing back.

A few years passed before my next major adventure with art! On the golden sands of the mandir, I was sitting with a bond sheet (as we called it then) carefully hidden inside a long notebook. Those loving words still ring in my mind: “Oh! You are drawing well, why don’t you paint?” Swami seemed to be happy seeing that pencil portrait of Himself. A nice lovely padanamaskar  [salutations at the feet] was my reward; I should confess I stole it as Swami walked away, for, feeling very confidant and enthused, I ventured now to a higher level of risk.

Meanwhile my parents had sent an entire set of bottled paints (Camlin [a brand name], if I remember correctly) after reading my letter. The painting was huge this time. I had very good chart paper and had painted Swami’s face. My hands were shaking slightly as I sat with it in darshan [seeing a holy person]. This time there was a valid reason to be scared. I could not get access to a zero number brush, so I compromised with a felt pen. However, I could not get a thin black pen, and I ended up drawing Swami’s eyebrows and eyelashes with a thick black pen!! The rest of the painting was very good, but the eyes weren’t. I had done simple mono-color scenery inside the card, and written some words there.

Swami saw the painting from a distance and came closer. He lovingly looked at it for a long time. Then He bent forward over the card and whispered into my ear, “bagaledu ra” (it’s not nice). I had expected this but was not able to take it when it happened. After a long one-hour interview, Swami came out in time for bhajans. I managed to sit in the first row, crying. I prayed mentally, “Swami! Only the outside painting is not good, but what about the inside one. I did it for You. Please come and bless the card.” Bhajans were going on and Swami was on His throne. I did not give up and held the card upright so that it could catch His attention. After two bhajans, Swami quickly got up and walked down straight to me and asked me to give Him the card. Again, that loving signature of the divine: “With Love, Baba.”

A few years later, I was blessed with an opportunity to paint the scene of Lord Surya [sun] in his chariot, driven by seven horses. Swami looked so very happy. He called all the foreigners around and told them that this was the exact chariot used by the sun god, this was exactly the way he looked… and all that. I didn’t feel proud but felt happy. Then again, He came close to me and asked, “Why have you made the horses look like dogs?” I had never done such a huge painting in my life—an 18-foot by 18-foot oil painting of the famous Gitopadesha [sacred chariot] scene.

I was in my final year B. Sc in the Brindavan campus of the Institute. Only a couple of us worked on it, and it was completed in just two weeks. We didn’t have enough space to assemble the entire thing as a single piece; so we did the painting in small parts having no idea how it will look when put together.

After the sports meet, on the day of Sankaranti [holiday welcoming the sun], the painting was put in the mandir premises at a safe distance! In the afternoon, Swami casually walked amidst the boys in the verandah. He looked at me and said, “The sky part is not clear, but the other parts are nice. Even if nobody else knows, I know the amount of hard work you all have put in for doing this huge painting. These boys do it with so much love, only Swami knows. That is all they want.”

How tender are Your ways, Lord,
How many times did You have to bend,
Over my art, to touch my heart.
Were You encouraging me to paint better?
Or were You teaching me to strive toward perfection.
You never let me down before others,
But always made Your criticisms splendidly clear.
Tougher the challenge in art,
Greater the heart-lesson taught.
And finally, I can’t even say ‘I’ offered,
Because You simply didn’t give me the ability even
To make me think ‘I was doing.’
What can I say about Your love,
You give me the credit for my art,
But, ‘who am I without You,’ tells my heart.
This time I won’t let You down, Lord,
You have taught me to use,
Bold strokes of self-confidence,
And soft strokes of forbearance,
Finally you have made me realize,
That what really matters is not art,
But art from the heart.

~C. G. Sai Prakash
Source: Hridaya Brindavan, 2005