The Stories They Brought Back
- Umme Salmaa Bharmal
- Jul 12
- 2 min read
Umme Salmaa Bharmal
Contact me at: 9920492453
One of my favourite days of the year is the first art class after the summer holidays.
Not because we begin a new lesson.
Because I get to hear their stories.
A little one came back from the mountains carrying a sketchbook filled with tiny drawings from her trek.
Each page held a memory she wanted to keep.
Another child, usually so quiet, stood beside her mother while she proudly shared how much time her daughter had spent drawing during the holidays.
No reminders.
No assignments.
Just the joy of creating.
Then came another little voice.
"Ma'am, my drawing was praised!"
She couldn't stop smiling.
Soon another child joined in, equally excited to tell me how proud she felt of her artwork.
As I listened, I realised something.
Art has quietly become part of their lives—not just an activity they attend once a week.
It has become:
A way of observing.
A way of expressing.
A way of remembering.
Over the past two years, I've watched something beautiful unfold.
Many children who once said,
"Ma'am, this looks too difficult…"
now simply begin.
They don't wait for perfection.
They trust themselves enough to try.
And that changes everything.
Because confidence isn't taught through words.
It is built through experience.
One line.
One shape.
One small success after another.
People often think art teaches children how to draw.
I believe it teaches them much more.
It teaches them to observe before judging.
To stay curious.
To discover that there can be more than one answer.
To believe that mistakes are simply part of making.
Every child is different.
But every child deserves an environment where curiosity feels safe.
Where imagination is welcomed.
Where they are free to explore without fear of getting it wrong.
As an artist, nothing humbles me more than witnessing that transformation.
Not because every child will become an artist.
But because every child deserves the confidence that creativity quietly builds.
And perhaps that's the most beautiful work happening in my studio.
Not the paintings on the walls.
The children growing around them.
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