Why Sarang Creates?

I’ve always been a creative person.

I grew up watching my mom paint on quiet afternoons, the kind where light moves slowly across the floor. The smell of turpentine, brushes sitting in old mugs, that half-finished landscape she would never really finish. It all kind of stayed with me.

I started sketching early. Nothing serious — random things that caught my eye. Cartoon characters, trees, faces. I’d save up my pocket money just to buy a new watercolour set or a pack of pencils. That one time, I remember standing in a stationery shop, completely lost between two different shades of blue. It’s funny how seriously a 10-year-old can take a decision like that.

That same feeling returned recently when I was at a stationery store again. I wasn’t there for anything in particular, but something about those paint tubes and blank sketchbooks pulled me right back. Like a friend of mine once said, “It’s always been there — quietly beside you as you looked ahead at life.”

Then came the usual story. I did engineering like almost every kid in India. Got my MBA. Joined a corporate job. And slowly, drawing turned into something I used to do.

For a long time, that part of me just sat there collecting dust — the brushes dry, sketchbooks half-used.

But these past couple of years, something changed. Maybe it’s age, maybe it’s time, maybe it’s just wanting to feel that spark again.

I started doodling again. Sketching on weekends. Picking up half-finished things. It wasn’t perfect, but it felt real. And that was enough.

Exploring new art forms

Once I allowed myself to get back into it, things just unfolded naturally. I ended up taking a few workshops — clay pottery, lino printing, wood whittling. Things I’d never thought I’d try. Each one gave me something different: patience, rhythm, the satisfaction of shaping something with your hands.

And then came my first commissioned painting. I didn’t even plan it. Someone saw my work and asked if I could make something for them. I said yes before I had time to overthink it. That painting still feels like a quiet milestone — small, but huge.

Looking back, I realise I’ve always been that person who gets lost in making things. As a kid, I made origami caterpillars, cut erasers into stamps, tried every kind of craft that school supplies allowed.

Recently, I picked up that old habit of carving tiny designs into rubber again. Finished my first sketchbook in years. Set myself a one-month challenge to draw every day. Didn’t finish all thirty, but it didn’t matter. It was the most I’d drawn in years.

The pause before sharing

I’ve wanted to share this journey for a long time. But the perfectionist in me always interfered. That voice that says, “You’re not good enough yet.”

So I waited. And waited. And made more sketches that never left my desk.

In typical Sarang fashion, I kept procrastinating until the idea itself started to feel heavy.

But at some point, I decided it didn’t need to be perfect. I just needed to start.

This writing, sharing, making, this is me trying to hold myself accountable.