Art has always been with me. I am from the streets of Chittagong. I remember, probably in the village, how we used to make pictures in the sand, how we used to make colors from plants. I’ve always been creative. In Bangladesh, I learned to dance and sing at an orphanage. I always have a song in my head. I don’t know the words well, but I sing it in tune ‘la-la-la-la’. I was adopted and I first came back to Bangladesh in 1996. I still don’t know what it’s about, except that it’s about flowers. I still sing it to my kids.
Art came later. I’ve always been drawing in some way or another and I remember a teacher in Denmark in class 7. I was always sitting in our local church. I’m not an academic. I found school work very difficult. Music was always there in my mind and in another world where no one can say whether I am good or not good. So I was painting in the local church and one of my teachers told me at that time, I will be a great artist. But at that time I did not know its meaning. What was an artist?
I was educated as a graphic designer. In the crash of 2000, our company was shut down and I lost my job. A good friend of mine told me, start painting. I said no, I can’t paint. He said yes you can. Then I met an Iranian man who was an artist and he gave me a chance to become an artist. He taught me to use colours, illustrations etc. So that was a whole new universe that I didn’t know about. And from that time on I knew that I would be an artist. But still in Denmark, it was only hobby based. I was jumping from one genre to another, but never got inspired there. Around 2002, I decided that I wanted to be inspired by India, Bangladesh, Pakistan because they were one family. I was really stuck. It would be easy to be inspired in Africa or Japan, but this part of the world was tough. It should have been easy since that was me, but I got stuck. I tried to paint a street, but it didn’t look India-inspired or Bangladesh-inspired at all.
In Africa in 2003, I was actually pregnant, although I didn’t know it at the time. I painted a pregnant woman with her belly down. At the end of the curve, I left a piece of collage and that was a girl inside of me. I didn’t know the gender at the time, but it was a girl. So this painting was of my daughter. But this time I decided that no matter what happens, I want to be inspired by my roots.
But something was blocked for me. Maybe it was my childhood because I don’t want to remember what happened at that time. Today when I walked and we passed by a pond I thought I should stop. I had to see it. Something reminded me of the past. I know I’m not from the area, I’m from Chittagong, but the smell of the pond brought back memories. Last time I was here I had a fruit, not a pear but a different fruit, but the smell and taste was very sweet and reminded me of my childhood. To be honest, something from the road has blocked my memories. I don’t want to remind you of sadness. I am scared when I go there.
Even when I came to Bangladesh last time, I messaged people first, to remember to pick me up. I sent them my pictures. I didn’t want to come out before he did. I said, “You have to name ‘Shefali’, so I know it’s me.” I was anxious to know that someone would be there to take care of me once I landed. My trauma was from the airport in 1996 when someone ran away with my suitcase and I screamed after him. But it was just a guy who wanted to help me. I didn’t know it at the time, and the picture stayed with me. I didn’t want it to happen again. This time I was fine.
When I came in 2018, I was welcomed like a sister returning home. Everyone was so kind. I thought this is my home. This time I didn’t get hurt. I feel at home here. Next time I have to go to Chittagong because I have been hurt a lot there. But I want to overcome this. I will visit my orphanage and feel the street.
This time I will be interviewing street children because I know the feeling of being outside, lost, helpless.