Sand Castles

Author's Note:

Works of fiction need inspiration. This work is written in the first person, with my words and imagination. This story is largely inspired by the life of Sudarshan Pattnaik, a world renowned sand artist from India. I took the creative spark from his life to make up a piece of fiction with the hope that art imitates life, and in turn life imitates art.

I hope to continue spreading inspiration and positive messages through my writing. That is my threading the needle in the patchwork quilt called Life.

One day when I asked my father for a box of crayons, he refused.

In hindsight, I am happy it was poverty that made him refuse. I might not have understood any other reason. Poverty teaches a person to understand situations.

First, it is not all about deficits, poverty can be a motivation to carve an exit path.

My parents could not afford to give me nor my siblings much. Instead, we began to help the family at an early age. In our coastal town, there was always need for odd jobs here and there. My second understanding came with choice. For my parents, there was no choice but to put us all to work to feed hungry bellies.

The passion to create was strong in me. When our family scrounged for food, formal schooling seemed like a pipe dream.

I'd often peek into classrooms when I cleaned the school premises. The children were about my age, and they had supplies with which they could create. How I longed for the crayons to draw up a colorful fate on the blank white page!

"We daren't, son," said my parents repeating what they probably heard. "Dreaming for us is building sand castles near the waves."

In the beginning I believed them, but then I realized my eyes and heart saw things differently. I discovered art wherever I looked. Everything looked extraordinary. The way the light filtered through a leaf chewed up by a bug, the patterns, and the shadows were exciting. I began to keenly observe. When I collected coal, I found myself covering the floor and walls with designs and pictures. I saw larger connections. The flower in the garden we cleaned had a pattern similar to a nautilus in the ocean. I began to question how that was possible. I could never hurry even though my father implored me to finish the jobs quicker. The beach was a canvas for my scribbles. While the school children had everything in neat boxes, the whole world for me, was open and available.

I remembered my father's sandcastle metaphor. But instead of dissuading my spirit, it actually excited me. Building seemed like fun.

Later that night when everyone slept, I snuck out of our hut and walked to the beach. Even in those weary words of my father, I perceived a potential for self-expression. "No really," I told myself, "what if I built a sand castle?"

The universe seemed to listen. The moon shone a light so strong, it felt as if she lit path for my spirit to take.

The beach was deserted, and the waves were relentless. With my bare hands, I built a structure only to watch the wave take it away. I moved farther from the wave, but kept its message. "Be relentless," it seemed to say as it rose and fell in an infinite loop.

I felt a huge satisfaction when I used my hands, feet, a fallen stick, and my nails to create. I used my entire body, applied laws of physics I never learned in a formal classroom. I became one with my art medium. There was nothing to clean up. The ocean took care of that. I could dust myself off and go on to the next. I did this every night.

Once, I built a structure where we could all live like kings and queens. This would be my king father and queen mother's chambers, and we all had royal children rooms. I could not finish up the horse stables, so I put work on hold to catch some sleep. I had to go back to the hut only to catch strength in cleaning someone else's "castle" the following day.

The next morning, I accompanied my father and brothers to the job site. We passed a crowd of people near the beach. They were admiring something, and I felt an unknown excitement.

My castle stood tall and proud. I paused for a minute to admire, but my father hustled me back to reality. I kept turning back to look at it, my brother tugged at my torn sleeve to look ahead.

"I made this," I cried triumphantly, and suddenly everyone looked at me curiously.

"Hush," cautioned my father.

"I created this," I cried louder, pointing to myself with both hands.

That day, I had my first taste of coming out of the shadows, of suddenly becoming visible.

The summer sun shone making days long. After a meagre dinner, I'd run to the beach. The castle grew bigger and lasted for nearly two weeks. I continued to create. The wealthy children had colorful buckets, spades, rakes, trowels, tools, and watering cans. My trusty hands worked overtime, and I began carving intricate designs with details using my nails. I'd make frequent trips to the ocean to bring water in an old coconut shell.

The structures grew taller and varied. I made sea creatures, flowers, and other kinds of sand art. I used shells, driftwood, and sea weed as accessories. I built gardens with roses, marigold, and sweeping trees with sand. I built mythical kingdoms under the sea and in the clouds. People came to watch me, and children wanted to join me. I made several friends. If I didn't have this talent, their parents would not encourage children playing with me. Even at that tender age I knew that.

I began to learn about life from the sand. I could build the most fancy structure one day, and it could all be washed away the next. I could put in days and hours to build something magnificent, and it could be blown away in seconds. Life could turn on a dime. Yet, I continued to work with my bare hands and nails.

Being so close to nature in all senses taught me several things. How much water do I need to keep my creations strong and unbreakable? The seasons mattered. In summer, I'd have to use more water. On windy days, I'd have to position the structures differently. Weather and seasons played a part in the staying power of my creations. Expectations were constantly challenged. A magnificent creation would collapse due to a structural flaw. A building site I scoped out as safe could not protect my creation. Some creature destroyed my structure overnight. Some people worked on what I built and made it better. The relentless rise and fall of my structures made me aware in checking an ego, as I became more and more skilled.

Watching my work, people began offering me tools to work with. I could not stop creating. Yet, I had a day job to help keep the home fires burning.

One day, a kind parent offered me some money to teach her child. I was intrigued that people would pay for this skill. I got a first taste of entrepreneurship. I begged my father to allow me to teach more students for a fee. Through word of mouth and my creativity, I began to earn more by teaching than by doing odd jobs. My father began to see that this was a better choice, and he finally started believing in me. My passion became my work, and work became my passion.

The coastal town is also a tourist magnet. People from all walks of life, and people from all countries came by to check out my art. My student pool got larger. Parents were pleased their children were constructively occupied. We began to put forth themes. One day it would be marine animals, while on another it would be a garden of flowers. The beach does not belong to anyone, and so I could stage my creations and charge a small fee. I split it with my students, and suddenly we all began creating more and more.

The beach also became a stage. We created stories and characters with a message. Multiple perspectives brought critical thinking to the fore. The story told by a shark as a protagonist threw light on keeping the ecosystem in balance. It surprised people that sharks actually protected their prey by maintaining a healthy ocean. Coral reefs did not suffocate with algae due to sharks, and the sharks helped keep carbon out of the atmosphere.

We began to get creative in other areas, and I found out what mattered to people. Other creatives offered input, and I learned about social justice, international issues, civic sense, and current issues. I created famous characters from different arenas; sports and film were most popular followed by world leaders. I grew up physically and learned about the outside world. As some students grew out of sand art, I got new ones who wanted to learn about this medium. This trend continued, and I realized I was now a grown man.

My education was complete. I began playing with concrete representation of abstract issues. One time it was climate change, and another time it was to celebrate World Water Day. I could include multiple connections with sand art.

I marked each festival celebrated by different religions of the world with a creative construction. The joy I gave to people was contagious, and it acted like a fuel to keep my creative fires burning.

The rise of social media and the fall of digital divide got the word around about my art. World tourists started sharing the creations in the media. My fame was on an upward trajectory.

A tourist once saw me create, and he suggested trying out snow art. I applied for the challenge in another country. Unfamiliar with the medium of snow, I looked at pictures of the same. I got ice from stores and crushed it in the blender. I played with it, and tried to understand snow from a tropical place.

It was a complete surprise to get selected for the Snow Art festival. I understand keenly how learning transfers from one medium to another. I quickly got the hang of working with snow, and all I had to do was unleash my imagination. My passion flowed into the frozen medium, igniting it into a winning sculpture. I beat out seasoned veterans.

I could give my family a comfortable life now. I had time to create without stressing over finances. I often think that the inborn need to create gave me the green light to break through barriers.

My student pool grew bigger and better. Most of them committed their career to the art. Cooperative learning is a major part of the curriculum. Nothing could stop our exponential growth. We enrolled in national and international competitions, With our teamwork and passion, we won several awards.

The main motivation in life for me isfollowing a passion. While I contrast the piercing hunger I felt without food to the hunger for self-expression, I realize the latter was sharper.

From neanderthals who scribed on cave walls to digital technologists, self-expression is a pressing need that keeps reinventing and recreating itself. To deny it would be to deny life.

Today I am no longer the uneducated rag-picking odd-job kid. I am a world renowned teacher. I opened the first international sand art school where talented students vie with each other to join. It's important for me to include those who dare to dream despite odds to overcome in life.

We continue to build themes on uniting through religious tolerance, social justice, environmental issues, world crises awareness, women and LGBTQ awareness and empowerment.

Recently, my students and I built a structure that made it to the Book of World Records for the tallest and widest sand structure. The theme was World Hunger, and we designed and built a largest granary to feed the entire planet.

The media posted my net worth in millions. For me, the richness of self-expression has no price. I've written books, held international workshops, become brand ambassador for several products. The world seeks me out, but in my heart I am still the penniless discoverer in tattered clothes.

Nature taught me that with a wave, everything can come crashing down in an instant. It also taught me that I can use my strength to build and rebuild. I relinquish control to the waves when my ego gets the better of me.

After all, it was in the shifting sands I learned my lesson to be grounded.

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Some of Sudarshan Pattnaik's works.

Here's an example of his sand creation of the Taj Mahal from an international festival in Amsterdam.

"Taj Mahal @ Museumplain" by reggestraat is licensed under CC BY 2.0