Mandala Arts
After
a long silence, Suba’s Facebook post appeared like a breath of fresh air. The
moment I saw the picture she shared, all the stress from work melted away. My eyes widened.
My face broke into a smile. My mind was as peaceful as water lilies floating in
a pond without any ripples. I looked at the picture she sent very carefully.
I immediately called Suba, who is married and working in Dubai with her husband. Suba and I have been friends since we were three years old. We were in the same class from kindergarten to sixth grade. We attended all kinds of classes together—Bharatanatyam (classical dance), Carnatic music, bhajan (devotional singing), yoga, and veena (a traditional string instrument).
The calls were
disconnected twice. I was suddenly worried about Suba's health, as she is four
months pregnant. I was also anxious about how she was coping in a foreign
country where she knew no one. After about five minutes, I received a call from
her. I picked up the phone with excitement.
"I knew you'd call after seeing the
picture," she said, laughing loudly. There was no change in her voice, and
I realized that everything was going well in Dubai.
"It's so
beautiful! How did you get the idea? Do you have time to do all this
there?" I asked in amazement. The question might have seemed silly to
Suba, who holds a high position at a Dubai Islamic bank. She chuckled softly.
"Since I got
pregnant, I've been thinking about home a lot. And I've been crying too. I
can't do dance practice or yoga with this belly. It's too tiring. So, I started
drawing mandala art. It helps pass the time, and if I'm not active, the baby
will be lazy too. Okay, I have to get back to work. I'll message you this
afternoon. Look at all the likes and comments I'm getting on Facebook for my
art today!" she said, laughing in her usual way.
It's the satisfaction that comes after
creation. It has so much power. Time will never be there; we have to create it.
Her words on the phone a while ago echoed in my thoughts again. I couldn't
bring myself to enter the school auditorium, so I stood at the entrance,
looking at the mandala painting she had drawn again.
During our secondary school days, Suba and I
were somewhat famous among the students for drawing mandala art. We drew
mandala art on notebooks, desks, diary covers, love letters, gifts, shirts, and
for many of our friends. At that age, we were addicted to the compliments
our drawings brought us. That day, as Suba and I were practicing our dance, a
different kind of painting was being painted on one part of the temple wall. While our friends were searching for
books to prepare for future career opportunities, Suba and I were searching for
a path to spiritual fulfillment. We sought out what brought us joy. While our
friends were having fun, we were engaged in very serious activities. All those
things that were close to our souls were in the form of art.
One thing we learned was connected to another.
Then, as we explored those connections, we were introduced to something
completely different. Everything was like a tangled mess of string, intertwined
and connected. We spent many evenings reading and discussing these connections.
Events like this surrounded us from a young age. One such thing that surrounded
us was this art of mandala painting.
The arrival of mandala art in our lives was an
interesting event. When we say mandala art, the first person who comes to mind
is Mama (uncle in Tamil language). At that time, twelve years later, the work
for the Kumbhabhishekam (Hindu temple consecration ceremony) of the Sri
Subramanya Temple was underway. Suba and I were invited to perform a dance at
the ceremony. We had been going to the temple in the evenings for two weeks to
practice for the dance. Since the rituals for the ceremony were taking place,
many people were busy with their work at the temple.
One
evening, while Suba and I were practicing for our temple dance performance,
something caught our eye in a unique painting slowly taking shape on one of the
temple walls. Suba and I had
planned to go and see the painting after our dance practice. We finished our
practice quickly that day and hesitantly went to see the painting, approaching
the spot where Mama was painting.
“You
never noticed my work before, but today the colors pulled you in. That’s the
power of color,” Mama said, climbing down the ladder. His shirt was splattered
with paint, but he didn’t look messy. There was something thoughtful in his
eyes.
"That's enough for today, the dew is
starting to fall, we can continue tomorrow," he said to his fellow painter
while washing his hands in a nearby pipe. Only after going closer to the wall
did, we realize it was a circular painting. Mama had only started painting the
center of the circle. Suba is someone who easily makes friends with new people.
She's also a bit talkative. But I'm the opposite. I only answer the questions
asked. As I was carefully looking at the unpainted areas, Suba, as usual,
started talking to Mama boldly.
"I'm from
the village, Trichy (a city name in Tamil Nadu, India)," Mama said to
Suba, and I turned to look at him for a moment. I also noticed a painting drawn
in lime on the adjacent wall. It was also circular. As I walked around the
temple, I saw similar paintings on all the pillars. I was picturing in my mind
how the temple would look after all of them were painted in a week, on the day
of the Kumbhabhishekam. Suba started talking to Mama as if she knew him well.
Many questions
were forming in my mind. "Why are they all circular?" I asked
hesitantly.
"Because
this is a mandala painting. Mandala means "circle" or
"disk" in Sanskrit. So, mandala paintings have to be drawn within a
circle." Mama said, sitting down on the floor. He must have been tired
from standing and painting for a long time.
"Why does it
have to be in a circle? Can't it be drawn in another shape?" I continued
to ask questions.
Mama, sitting on the ground, looked up at me and said, "“Because… life moves in circles. We live on Earth, which is round and has no beginning or end. It keeps turning, like a wheel. Everything in nature follows a cycle—seasons change, seeds grow into trees and return to seeds, eggs hatch into chicks, which grow into hens and lay eggs again. Even water rises as vapor and comes back as rain. Animals, humans, and everything else are part of a vast, interconnected cycle. No one really knows where it all began or where it ends. Even God is like that—without a beginning or end. That’s why mandala art is always drawn in circles, especially in temples.” He gave me a gentle smile. Back then, his words felt bigger than life like they opened up a whole new way of thinking.
"Girls, when
you look at this painting, which part do you see first?" Mama asked. After
looking at the painting he had drawn, I replied, "The center."
"Very good.
A mandala painting starts from a small dot. That dot expands and becomes this
large painting. But no matter how big this painting becomes, it draws our
attention to the central dot. Like the sun. The sun explodes and scatters into
different things like planets, stars, and the moon, but the sun is the central
point. Everything else functions because of the sun. The center of a mandala
painting is like that, powerful, and captivating." Hearing him say that
filled me with even more wonder.
"I thought
you were a painter, but you're talking about solar system science. Have you
studied? Why did you become a painter instead of getting a job?" Suba
asked. It was an age when the difference between education and knowledge was
not clear. Thinking about this question still makes me laugh. That day, Mama
had the same laugh.
To illustrate the
connection between mandala art and nature, Mama took us to the flower garden at
the temple entrance. In the evening, as the dew was about to fall, the red
roses looked even more beautiful. Dewdrops were scattered on the rose leaves.
Mama took a rose bud in his hand, tilted it towards us, and asked us to look at
it closely. The center of the rose, surrounded by beautiful petals. Then the
rows of the next petals, the lines within those petals, the many color
combinations in those lines, the many shapes within those combinations, all of
these together make up a complete rose, he explained. Even though I had grown
up among roses, that day the rose looked different. It was so beautiful and
amazing to see how it became complete from the central point of the rose.
Suddenly, Mama moved among the leaves and picked up a snail in his hand, and
showed it to us. The shape of the snail's shell also started from a small
central point. Its body was also surrounded by many lines and shapes. That was
the first time I had ever looked closely at a snail. We also noticed the
central points in the rose leaves. Mama taught us that day that only by looking
closely at something can we understand its beauty and nature. My heart told me
that this ability should be applied not only in painting but in all activities.
Everything in this world starts from a small point. The point is surrounded by
lines and shapes that represent the universe, reflected in the mandala
painting, Mama said. Suddenly, I had an idea and extended my fingers in front
of him. I said that the fingerprints imprinted on them also start from a small
point. He
laughed and said, “Not just fingerprints our entire body begins from a tiny
seed, a single cell with a nucleus.” Mama walked past us and entered the temple, casually
explaining the very large scientific principle of Micro to Macro.
Mama, tell us,
who are you? We struggle to learn these subjects, but you explain them so
easily. Why did you become a painter instead of studying? Suba kept asking the
same question, running after him.
Every meaning and
element in mandala art continued to amaze me. My mind began to realize that
mandala could not be just a painting.
"Mama, can mandala art only be drawn in
temples?" Before he could answer my next question, he was drinking tea
prepared by his fellow painter, blowing on it to cool it down. Paint was still
stuck to his hands. I was waiting with my mouth open for his answer.
It's not just in temples. They also draw
mandala art in yoga and meditation centers. Mental health therapists use this
art for art therapy. Astrologers who predict the future also draw mandala art
to make predictions. You'll be surprised to know this, but magicians also draw
mandala art and worship on it. Mandala art is widespread in many fields, Mama
said. I shared that similar paintings were drawn on the veena I was learning to
play.
It's not just used as a mandala painting. It
serves as a symbol of spirituality and cultural rituals. Mandala paintings can
be found not only in India but also in countries like Tibet, Nepal, China,
Japan, Bhutan, and Indonesia.
Tibetan Monks Painstakingly Create
Incredible Mandalas Using Millions of Grains of Sand | https://mymodernmet.com/tibetan-buddhist-monks-sand-art/
How did the
paintings drawn in Indian temples reach China and Japan? Mama patiently
answered, sipping the remaining tea, to the little girls who lacked worldly
knowledge. Wherever Buddhism and Hinduism exist, mandala art is sure to be
found. But the first person to create it was Siddhartha Gautama, who spread
Buddhism. He used mandala art as a strategy to spread Buddhism in other
countries. Gautama used mandala art to focus the mind and thoughts during
meditation. When children like you come to the temple, they are more interested
in looking around than praying. Adults are the same. When they see paintings
like this while looking around, they can focus their minds and thoughts and
start praying again. That's why Hindu and Buddhist temples are filled with mandala
paintings.
My mind and
thoughts are focused. This can't be just a painting, I thought.
There are reasons for everything we do. But if
we explain it scientifically, not based on faith and belief as divine devotion,
its benefits will be strengthened. Like all paintings, mandala art is not just
an expression of thoughts. It is a painting that focuses the mind and thoughts.
It heals mental stress and depression. Each of these has a deep meaning. The
eight-line mandala painting is famous worldwide. The circular nature of an
eight-line wheel acts as a perfect artistic representation of the universe. The
eight wheels reflect the eightfold path of Buddhism. It is a summary of
practices that lead to liberation and rebirth. Drawing beads in a circle brings
wisdom and clarity. Drawing triangles indicates upward energy and creativity.
The lotus flower is a sacred symbol in Buddhism. Even in our Hindu religion,
the lotus painting depicts balance. Just as a lotus reaches for light from
underwater, a human being also attains spiritual awakening and wisdom from
within. In Hinduism and Buddhism, it is believed that by entering the mandala
and moving towards its center, we will be freed from the suffering we face in
the universe and guided through joyful processes. I pray that the same belief
will guide both of you. Mama said, touching both our heads and blessing us. We
felt the power of those two hands that had drawn hundreds of mandala paintings
entering our heads, the mandala, and moving towards the center, the brain.
And
today, as I looked at Suba’s mandala painting on Facebook, I realized it wasn’t
just a drawing. It was a reflection of everything we had seen, felt, and
learned. A circle that had come back to its center.
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