I had no dedicated place to store my artistic tools, so a simple shoebox became the keeper of all my brushes and watercolors. The large papers, measuring 35 by 24 inches, were tucked neatly under my mattress, hidden away as my demanding job consumed most of my time and energy. Painting was a passion that had to be put on hold.
As the days went by, my workload only intensified. However, whenever I managed to carve out a moment, I would grab my paper and paints. I constantly sought inspiration in Reader’s Digest and various art books, and if a painting caught my eye, I would sit down and replicate it. The quality of my reproductions was such that viewers often mistook them for the originals, which says more about the average person's awareness of art and artists than anything else. I too, was unaware of the creators whose works I copied, but that didn’t matter. For me, the artwork mattered and not the name of the artist and the history behind it. The sheer joy of painting was enough, and ignorance was indeed bliss.
I never envisioned myself pursuing a formal education in art, nor did I see myself becoming a professional painter. Nonetheless, I continued to paint and reveled in every aspect of it. Over time, I even framed my artwork, and gradually, they filled every wall of my home. Visitors often admired these pieces, and I took great pride in their praise.
It was pure serendipity when one guest, observing my work, was convinced I had formal training in art. He refused to believe otherwise until I assured him of my self-taught path. Once convinced, he suggested I try for the entrance exam at the Sir J J School of Art in Mumbai. Recognizing the crossroads in my life, I chose to leave my job and dedicate myself to this new goal. Gaining admission to the Sir J J School of Art was notoriously difficult, often requiring several attempts by interested candidates over many years.
I was unfamiliar with the specifics of the entrance exam, which included design, memory drawing, live sketching, and even general knowledge about world-renowned artists. With limited time to prepare, I felt overwhelmed. "Design" as a subject seemed achievable, but "Memory Drawing" was a significant challenge. I believed I would excel in "Sketching" from observation. Thus, I prepared for the entrance exam with the intensity of a medical student entering finals, spending night after night mastering design and memory drawing, though I underestimated the sketching component.
When the day of the exam arrived, I was surrounded by thousands of other hopefuls, all competing for just 70 seats across various disciplines including painting, sculpture, textiles, metal craft, interior design, and ceramics. Initially, I felt out of my depth. But driven by habit, I persevered and followed the advice of a tutor I took tuition from especially for memory drawing for one week. This was one exam where openness was key; everyone could see each other's work. Many candidates were exceptionally talented, especially the person next to me, who excelled in watercolor memory drawing. Observing his skill, I doubted my chances. During the design test, we were asked to incorporate a "Kite" into our work. However, my neighbor mistakenly drew a "Cat." For a moment, I thought this reduced my competition, but my conscience urged me to guide him. I informed him of the mix-up, and he corrected his mistake with gratitude. I completed all four sections of the exam and awaited the outcome, hoping my sketching would see me through.
The results were to be published online, but I still lacked a computer, adding another layer of suspense to my waiting.
