Bishnuprasad was born and raised in Rupadaipur, a village with its own quiet pride and deep roots in Odisha’s history. Rupadaipur is the place where Sri Gopabandhu Das began his early education, and his maternal aunt lived here as well. Perhaps that is why creativity flows like heritage here, passing through generations unseen. According to local lore, Rupadaipur and its neighboring village Chandradaipur were named long ago by a ruler who gifted these lands to his two daughters, naming the villages after them. The stories, just like the soil, seem to have been buried deep, only fragments in the memory of elders who have spent their entire lives here.
“I’ve studied in the same school where Gopabandhu once attended first-year class,” Bishnuprasad smiles and tells me as I sit with him in his makeshift rooftop workshed. Bishnu, as he likes to be called, works as a steel fabricator. But during the Covid lockdown, when work slowed and silence filled the village, inspiration came from the most unexpected place—a coconut shell. He looked at it one day and felt an urge to turn it into something beautiful. Soon, he began collecting shells. Each evening, after finishing his day’s work, he would retire to his attic by seven and keep working late into the night, engrossed in shaping the shells into art. His wife’s call to come down for dinner would fall on deaf ears. One night, annoyed by his delay, she went up to see what kept him so absorbed. To her surprise, she found him carefully crafting beautiful little items out of coconut shells. Her irritation melted into pride. Bishnu’s first creation was a hair clip for his wife, which she still treasures and wears with love.
As months passed, encouraged by his wife and his good friend who was a sholapith artist, Bishnu began making bolder designs. One thing he always insisted on was never using artificial colors. “I feel coloring coconut shells spoils their natural beauty and steals their essence,” he explained. In 2020, when the Puri District Industries Centre (DIC) included coconut shell craft in its official craft list, Bishnu enrolled for their six-month training program. The certificate he earned didn’t just build his skills; it gave him confidence and faith that his art had mass appeal.
Watching him glue together pieces for his latest lampshade, I asked him about his most memorable moment. His eyes lit up in pride as he showed me a stunning piece—a sculpture of the three deities of Puri sitting gracefully together. It was a piece that had given him a life-changing opportunity. This was the art that Bishnu had been commissioned to present as a gift to Prime Minister Narendra Modi on his birthday at Rashtrapati Bhavan. But, as fate had it, his wife fell ill, and he chose to stay back. There was not a hint of regret in his voice as he said this. For him, family always comes before everything else. Bishnu’s artistic instincts were present even in childhood. He laughs as he recalls how he once found a piece of broken wood lying by the road, brought it home, and carved it into two wooden spoons.
When I asked if he could create any design from a coconut shell, he replied with confidence that he could make anything from it. The only thing he struggles with, like many village artists, is market linkage. He dreams of being able to give full attention to this craft, but ground reality doesn’t allow him that liberty. “At the moment this art can’t feed my family,” he said simply.
In June, after the Devasnana Purnima, Rupadaipur celebrates its famous Naga Jatra. Bishnu invited us warmly to attend and stay at his home to witness the festival. His invitation was so heartfelt that it felt like a family member was inviting us, not a new acquaintance. That warmth and kindness can still only be seen in these beautiful villages. As I take my leave, both Bishnu and his wife wave to me happily, not knowing whether I’ll ever be back but still showering me with love like a long-lost friend.
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