Cheriyal Art: A Story Scroll That Still Speaks
BRASS LOTUS was born, I believe, out of my innate desire to travel, to explore, and to stumble upon stories — of traditions that have endured for centuries. I wanted to share these stories with the world, and more importantly, pass them on to my daughter. I wanted her to grow up not just seeing “beautiful décor,” but feeling the heartbeat inside it.
And so, many of my happiest memories begin with us on the road — windows rolled down, conversations flowing as fast as the milestones flashing by.
One such journey took us to Cheriyal — a small town about 100 km from Hyderabad, yet monumental in its artistic legacy. My five-year-old, with roasted makhanas in hand, was on repeat mode: “Amma, are we there yet?” I absently smiled, because truthfully, I didn’t know what awaited us either.
A Home Where Art Breathes
Stepping into an artist’s home in Cheriyal felt less like entering a studio and more like being embraced by a story in progress. My daughter darted toward a half-finished mask drying in the corner, only to be gently warned, “Adi inka podakunda undi, jagratha!” (That’s still wet, be careful!).
The room itself was alive: brushes scattered across the floor, pigments nestled in coconut shells, the faint tang of tamarind seed paste in the air. My little one, ever the clown, tried on a mask and asked, “How do I look?” as laughter rippled through the family. In that instant, we weren’t visitors anymore — we were part of their world.
The artist then patiently walked us through the process: tamarind seeds boiled and ground into glue, wooden moulds layered with cloth, coats of chalk paste applied with precision, and finally, those vivid hand-painted hues. In this age of AI and 3D modeling - no shortcuts, no factory finish — only rhythm, patience, and tradition.
The Art of Telling Stories
Cheriyal paintings were never meant to be just “art.” They were stories told in visual form. Generations ago, storytellers unfurled scrolls that stretched 30–40 feet long, narrating epics along with village folklore. For these communities, these scrolls were both theatre and chronicle — an archive of memory and morality.
As centuries passed, the form evolved. Towering scrolls became compact panels, masks, and figurines — allowing the tradition to live on while finding a place in contemporary homes.
Generations at Work
What moved me most, was seeing how seamlessly this craft flows through family life. One artist proudly showed us brushes his grandfather had once used, still bound with cotton thread. His son — on the cusp of marriage — sanded a clay mask nearby, while his mother painted fine details on a scroll.
This wasn’t just “work.” It was inheritance; devotion.
Meanwhile, my daughter was cross-legged in a corner, smudging red pigment onto her palm like mehendi. And in that ordinary moment, I found an extraordinary reminder — that the slow ways, the old ways, carry a beauty that modern life often forgets.
From Cheriyal to Our Homes
When we left Cheriyal, I didn’t just bring back a mask. I carried the realization that when you welcome Cheriyal art into your home, you aren’t simply decorating a wall — you’re preserving a heartbeat. You’re cradling a fragment of Telangana’s cultural memory, reminding yourself that heritage is not meant to be frozen in museums, but lived, celebrated, and passed on.
Maybe that’s why Cheriyal still feels fresh. Because it isn’t “old art.” It’s living art.
So the next time you see a Cheriyal mask, bust, or scroll, pause for a moment. Don’t just call it décor. Think of it as a story — waiting to move into your home.
🎨 Own a slice of living heritage—discover our vibrant Cherial Art pieces https://www.brasslotus.in/collections/frontpage
