A Tale of Three Cities
- vanguardbi
- Jun 7
- 5 min read
If there’s one thing art has taught me, it’s that every city leaves its own brushstroke on your soul. Each place I’ve called home, or visited with loved ones, has offered something unique: a palette of memories, colors, and stories that linger long after I’ve left. As I’ve begun to explore watercolor as a new medium, it feels only natural that my recent works have gravitated toward the three cities that have shaped me most profoundly: Kolkata, Varanasi, and Venice.
Kolkata: The Heart That Never Lets Go
Kolkata will always be home, no matter how many years I’ve spent elsewhere. For outsiders, it’s a city that can seem overwhelming—crowded, noisy, sometimes chaotic—but to me, it’s a place filled with warmth, resilience, and a unique spirit. There’s something about Kolkata that refuses to let go, whether it’s the old colonial buildings lining the streets or the unmistakable energy during Durga Puja when the city transforms into a living, breathing artwork.
Growing up there, I always felt a sense of safety and freedom, especially as a young girl. The respect for women was palpable, and the culture and festivals colored every part of our lives. The sights, sounds, and smells—whether it was the aroma of street food wafting through the air or the distant echo of conch shells during religious celebrations—formed the background music of my childhood. Though much of old Kolkata is now vanishing, replaced by high rises and new developments, the Kolkata I hold dear lives on in my memories—and, now, in my art.
My Kolkata watercolor is an homage to the city of my childhood and youth—a glimpse of the Kolkata I remember. I painted it with a sense of nostalgia, choosing a vintage street scene reminiscent of a city that’s rapidly disappearing. The challenge with watercolor is that it’s so different from my other media. With fabric or acrylics, there’s room for correction, for layering over mistakes; with watercolor, every stroke matters. It’s a test of patience and humility, a lesson in letting go and trusting the process. As I painted Kolkata, I found myself lost in old memories—of walking down familiar lanes, the bustle of local markets, and the vibrant colors of everyday life. It’s my way of holding on to the past, of capturing the city’s essence before it fades further into history.
Varanasi: Where Time Flows Like the Ganges
If Kolkata is where I was rooted, Varanasi is where I learned to grow. The city sits on the banks of the Ganges, its iconic Banaras Ghats rising from the water, steeped in centuries of ritual and reverence. My connection to Varanasi isn’t just geographical; it’s deeply personal. Some of my closest friendships were formed there, and the city’s sights and sounds became woven into my identity.
High school years are formative for everyone, but in Varanasi, every experience seemed heightened by the city’s spirituality and the ever-present river. The rituals at the ghats, the flow of pilgrims and locals alike, the daily rhythm that seemed to blend devotion and daily life—it all left an indelible mark on me.
For my Varanasi painting, I chose a scene that means a great deal to me: the view of the Banaras Ghats from a boat on the river. The photograph that inspired the piece was sent to me by my art teacher in India—someone who understands my connection to the city. The painting was a challenge, asking me to capture not only the distinct skyline and holy river but also the serene, profound atmosphere of the Ghats. I wanted to convey that sense of being adrift on the water, looking back at the city as it has watched over generations of lives and deaths.
Watercolor, I discovered, is uniquely suited for such a subject. Its unpredictability mirrors the shifting currents of the Ganges, and its softness lets the sacred, timeless quality of the ghats come through. When I shared the finished watercolor with my old high school friends—many of whom I haven’t seen in fifty years—they recognized it immediately. That instant recognition was deeply affirming; it meant that the spirit of Varanasi—its rituals, its sacred spaces, its place in my history—had come through.
Working with watercolor on this piece was both humbling and rewarding. Unlike fabric or acrylic, watercolor forces you to “go with the flow.” Mistakes can’t easily be corrected, and the mantra “less is more” becomes essential. Yet the unpredictability of the medium seems almost suited to capturing the spiritual energy and movement of Varanasi. Each time I revisit this painting, I am transported back to those early mornings on the river, to the sound of temple bells and the first light touching the city’s ancient stones.
Venice: Reflections and Renaissance
Venice was a place I visited with my brother and sister-in-law—a trip that became memorable for its beauty, history, and sense of wonder. Despite the floods during our visit, Venice unfolded itself through boat rides along its legendary canals, museum visits, and the atmosphere of the old Jewish quarter. There’s an undeniable romance to the city, a sense that every reflection in the water carries a fragment of history.
For those few days, I felt as if I were living in a painting myself, surrounded by centuries of art, architecture, and stories. Venice is a city that reveals itself slowly, with every twist of the canal and every hidden square. I remember being struck by the contrasts: the grandeur of the palaces against the intimacy of quiet alleyways, the lively markets alongside moments of utter stillness on the water.
My watercolor of Venice was inspired by those memories: the city’s shimmering reflections, the vibrant interplay of light and color on water, the history that seems to flow through every canal. Painting Venice in watercolor felt almost natural. The movement of water, the play of light, and the vibrant colors all seemed to flow onto the page. I found myself experimenting with looser brushwork, letting the water and pigment dance together, echoing the city’s own sense of movement and change.
What I loved most about painting Venice was the challenge of capturing both its opulence and its fleeting beauty. Just as the city itself must constantly adapt to the tides, working in watercolor means accepting change, embracing unpredictability, and seeing beauty in impermanence. Venice left me wanting to see and paint more—Florence, with its Renaissance treasures, is next on my list.
In the Flow of Memory and Paint
As I look back on these three cities—Kolkata, Varanasi, and Venice—I realize each one has shaped me in different ways. Kolkata taught me about belonging and identity; Varanasi about spirituality and transformation; Venice about reflection and embracing the beauty of the present. Each city has found its way into my art, becoming more than just a subject, but a companion on my creative journey.
Through watercolor, I’ve found a new way to honor their stories and my own. Each painting is more than just an image—it is an invitation to remember, to reflect, and to share the unique tales each city has etched onto my heart. Every brushstroke carries with it laughter, nostalgia, and a longing to hold onto the fleeting beauty of both place and memory.
I’m grateful for every friend and mentor who has encouraged me to continue exploring, to try new things even when they feel daunting. As I look to the future, I know there are more cities to visit and more stories to paint. For now, I hope my art brings you as much joy and nostalgia as these cities have brought me.
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