My Roots in Art

Guitar Torah Ark, Designed by John Shaffner. (Cafe Lena, Saratoga Springs)

Before I begin sharing my perspective on Art with the world, I feel my first post should be about my roots in it.

Until today, I had never spoken about my Papa online. I have seen countless posts remembering him and heard from many people what he meant to them. But I never said anything. What could I have said in the first place?

My Papa was a father, husband, brother, professor, genius, and friend. He was many things. But he was also an Artist.

He was passionate about music. I still remember him picking up his guitar during family events and performing for everyone. He always looked at ease when that guitar was in his hands. So natural. So alive. Looking back now, I realize he is the one who showed me what passion truly means.

He used to tell stories about being in a band, how he was the singer and guitarist, and how he had composed his own music. But those pieces, sadly, were lost in time.

My Papa also taught me what love looks like beyond family. Yes, I love my family. They are my world. That kind of love is born with you. It cannot be replaced or questioned. It is unconditional, no matter the discomfort or pain. But then there is love that grows from passion. Love that develops when we feel seen by something. Love that deepens with experience. One day, that kind of love becomes instinct. That is the kind of love my Papa taught me to seek.

In my journey to find passion, I explored many paths, hoping that maybe one of them would become something I would fall in love with. When I was younger, I wanted to learn piano and explore music, thinking I could follow in my Papa's footsteps. But eventually, I grew out of it. Something about him being the one to carry music felt right to me. Him with his guitar and piano and his passion was a scene I always got lost in. It never felt right to take that away from him. Slowly, I let go of music from my heart.

My form of expression then became my favorite sport. It was the only sport I ever truly excelled in. Badminton became my heart and soul. The movement, the speed, the strength, and the opponents gave me purpose. I fell in love with the game. I finally felt like I had found a piece of myself every time I stepped onto the court. I was defending my skills and my place in the world. But with time, I had to let that go too, as my life began shifting from place to place in pursuit of something else. A better future. A higher quality of life.

Moving to the United States felt isolating. I no longer knew what I was passionate about. I tried everything. Painting. Swimming. Volleyball. Tennis. But nothing gave me the feeling that Badminton once gave me.

At fifteen, I realized something important. My purpose could not be tied to just one identity. I was more than just an ex-athlete. But I still had not figured out what else lived within me. That was not the moment I discovered my love for colors or aesthetics. That would come years later in my third year of college.

What I discovered then was something unexpected. The Rubik's Cube.

The 3x3 cube can drive a person mad. But for me, it was a quiet passion. I started learning how to solve it when I was eleven. My brother was the one who taught me. There was something peaceful about the process. The rhythm. The focus. The way the colors clicked into place. That calmness is something I still adore. I believe this was the beginning of my love for color. The cube was my entry into seeing beauty in precision, shape, and visual harmony.

Now, I am writing this to share that story. To open up about my life as an ex-athlete. And to express how I slowly uncovered different versions of myself through various passions.

It took me years to realize that I actually enjoyed learning about Art. But even before I knew that, I always loved looking at depictions of love. That came from my Papa. A brilliant musician and an avid Bollywood lover. He adored the film Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge. He used to tell stories about how he had a replica of Shah Rukh Khan's leather jacket from the movie. Whether he was strumming his guitar or sharing a scene from a film, he showed me the beauty of love in all its forms.

The depiction of love, what I now call romanticizing life, might seem naive or even foolish to some. But what is this world without love hidden in its quieter places?

This is the root of my artistic lens. My Papa's love. His passion. His legacy. And my own continuing search for self.