<p>Are these really made of paper, we ask incredulously. The elaborate panels with intricate jharokhas and jalis, the fine details of the colourful Krishna Leela, a caparisoned elephant with a royal palanquin... they look like they are made of rosewood, enamelled glass and ivory, respectively. <br /><br /></p>.<p>The artiste, Jaishree Pankaj Shah, laughs and assures us that they are indeed made entirely of paper, just ordinary paper.<br /><br />However, she understands our disbelief, used to such reactionis. “It is sanjhi, an art well-known in Gujarat and Rajasthan,” she explains. She makes sanjhi with paper, encases it in glass, and then has the whole piece framed.<br /><br />Jaishree was around eight when she began observing her grandfather do sanjhi using paper and banana leaves, at their family temple in the Sultan Bazaar area of Hyderabad. <br />And then, she helpfully explains, “Sanjhi is the art of decorating the floor in front of a deity with flowers, rangolis, stencil cutouts and paperwork. <br /><br />It is part of the seva which a devotee does for his god.” She began making small sanjhi creations using paper, and the first recipients of her gifts were her family, classmates, friends and occasionally, her class teacher. The appreciation was motivating, and she began to polish her art. <br /><br />Taking it a notch up<br /><br />After her marriage, her in-laws encouraged her to go professional. In 1977, she held her first exhibition at Kala Bhavan in Hyderabad. “I used only single-colour exhibits.” The success of this exhibition encouraged her further, and she began making multi-coloured creations. She subsequently held a few exhibitions in Mumbai and Hyderabad. Jaishree explains that her ancestors — on both her parents’ and husband’s side — had moved to Hyderabad about 350 years ago. <br /><br />However, they continued to keep in touch with Gujarat and Rajashtan and made regular pilgrimages to the temple of their family deity — Krishna aka Shrinathji of the famed Nathdwara Temple in Rajasthan. She and her family follow this tradition. In 1993, she made 200 Krishna Leela panels and gifted them to this temple as part of her seva.<br />“I don’t feel I gave anything to god. It is he who has given me everything, including this talent. Then, he gave me the opportunity to do seva. It is a privilege to do this seva at the temple,” she says.<br /><br />Jaishree, who has learnt only the rudiments of the art as a child by observing her grandfather, has remained a self-taught artiste, refining her craft with practice and innate creativity over four decades. She attributes all her inspiration to Shrinathji. The main door is actually framed by 15 pictures of Shrinathji in sanjhi work. Each of them wears a different dress and headgear — even his ornaments differ from one frame to the other.<br /><br />Acting on instinct<br /><br />Surprisingly, Jaishree does not sketch anything beforehand. “My only tools are paper and scissors,” she says. Hard to believe, but it’s true. She just goes by instinct when cutting out the paper into right shapes for the desired design.<br /><br />Even her raw material comes mostly from old wedding cards and their envelopes. “I rarely buy paper,” she says. Sometimes, she has to procure paint. If paper of the right colour is available, that is fine, but sometimes I have to paint a white paper in the needed colour before cutting it.”<br /><br />For all her skills and the admiration her art has earned among friends and art lovers, she still has not had one earnest student in the four decades she has been a practitioner of this art. It is her regret that not a single dedicated shishya has come to her. “I am still looking for a good student. <br /><br />It is such a beautiful art, and I am eager to teach it, but I have not found any takers. I have seven grandchildren, but even though they are all praise for my art, they are not willing to learn it as it is a very time-consuming and painstaking task. And today’s generation has little time to spare for such things, given the academic load and competitive environment.”<br /><br />It takes anywhere between four days to three months to create one piece. The very big ones take even longer. The large and elaborate wall-to-wall panel that occupies pride of place in their drawing room, and draws the admiration of visitors, has taken one year. This creation (which simulates rosewood) is 4x16 feet in dimension, and has a series of intricately designed jharokhas, doors, windows and jaalis. “Every single window and door in this panel is a different design,” she points out. Her works of art are sold for anything between Rs 5,000 to 5,00,000.<br /><br />This is evidently a laborious job requiring as much patience as skill. Is it hard on the eyes (and fingers), we ask. Any occupational hazards? “None whatsoever,” she laughs. Pointing to the panels with Krishna, she says, “I have Shrinathji taking care of me and my work, so I never feel the strain.”<br /></p>
<p>Are these really made of paper, we ask incredulously. The elaborate panels with intricate jharokhas and jalis, the fine details of the colourful Krishna Leela, a caparisoned elephant with a royal palanquin... they look like they are made of rosewood, enamelled glass and ivory, respectively. <br /><br /></p>.<p>The artiste, Jaishree Pankaj Shah, laughs and assures us that they are indeed made entirely of paper, just ordinary paper.<br /><br />However, she understands our disbelief, used to such reactionis. “It is sanjhi, an art well-known in Gujarat and Rajasthan,” she explains. She makes sanjhi with paper, encases it in glass, and then has the whole piece framed.<br /><br />Jaishree was around eight when she began observing her grandfather do sanjhi using paper and banana leaves, at their family temple in the Sultan Bazaar area of Hyderabad. <br />And then, she helpfully explains, “Sanjhi is the art of decorating the floor in front of a deity with flowers, rangolis, stencil cutouts and paperwork. <br /><br />It is part of the seva which a devotee does for his god.” She began making small sanjhi creations using paper, and the first recipients of her gifts were her family, classmates, friends and occasionally, her class teacher. The appreciation was motivating, and she began to polish her art. <br /><br />Taking it a notch up<br /><br />After her marriage, her in-laws encouraged her to go professional. In 1977, she held her first exhibition at Kala Bhavan in Hyderabad. “I used only single-colour exhibits.” The success of this exhibition encouraged her further, and she began making multi-coloured creations. She subsequently held a few exhibitions in Mumbai and Hyderabad. Jaishree explains that her ancestors — on both her parents’ and husband’s side — had moved to Hyderabad about 350 years ago. <br /><br />However, they continued to keep in touch with Gujarat and Rajashtan and made regular pilgrimages to the temple of their family deity — Krishna aka Shrinathji of the famed Nathdwara Temple in Rajasthan. She and her family follow this tradition. In 1993, she made 200 Krishna Leela panels and gifted them to this temple as part of her seva.<br />“I don’t feel I gave anything to god. It is he who has given me everything, including this talent. Then, he gave me the opportunity to do seva. It is a privilege to do this seva at the temple,” she says.<br /><br />Jaishree, who has learnt only the rudiments of the art as a child by observing her grandfather, has remained a self-taught artiste, refining her craft with practice and innate creativity over four decades. She attributes all her inspiration to Shrinathji. The main door is actually framed by 15 pictures of Shrinathji in sanjhi work. Each of them wears a different dress and headgear — even his ornaments differ from one frame to the other.<br /><br />Acting on instinct<br /><br />Surprisingly, Jaishree does not sketch anything beforehand. “My only tools are paper and scissors,” she says. Hard to believe, but it’s true. She just goes by instinct when cutting out the paper into right shapes for the desired design.<br /><br />Even her raw material comes mostly from old wedding cards and their envelopes. “I rarely buy paper,” she says. Sometimes, she has to procure paint. If paper of the right colour is available, that is fine, but sometimes I have to paint a white paper in the needed colour before cutting it.”<br /><br />For all her skills and the admiration her art has earned among friends and art lovers, she still has not had one earnest student in the four decades she has been a practitioner of this art. It is her regret that not a single dedicated shishya has come to her. “I am still looking for a good student. <br /><br />It is such a beautiful art, and I am eager to teach it, but I have not found any takers. I have seven grandchildren, but even though they are all praise for my art, they are not willing to learn it as it is a very time-consuming and painstaking task. And today’s generation has little time to spare for such things, given the academic load and competitive environment.”<br /><br />It takes anywhere between four days to three months to create one piece. The very big ones take even longer. The large and elaborate wall-to-wall panel that occupies pride of place in their drawing room, and draws the admiration of visitors, has taken one year. This creation (which simulates rosewood) is 4x16 feet in dimension, and has a series of intricately designed jharokhas, doors, windows and jaalis. “Every single window and door in this panel is a different design,” she points out. Her works of art are sold for anything between Rs 5,000 to 5,00,000.<br /><br />This is evidently a laborious job requiring as much patience as skill. Is it hard on the eyes (and fingers), we ask. Any occupational hazards? “None whatsoever,” she laughs. Pointing to the panels with Krishna, she says, “I have Shrinathji taking care of me and my work, so I never feel the strain.”<br /></p>
