Patil is sketching while she discusses her studio. Suddenly we sit up to the loud noise outside. It’s dusk and the birds are returning home to the huge jamun tree that stands against the fence of Patil’s rented accommodation in New Delhi’s Hauz Khas Enclave. Almost one fourth of the tree’s canopy falls over her terrace and provides an excellent shade against the scorching heat. “It’s also lovely during rains and the winter mornings are simply amazing,” she exclaims.

Patil’s artistic world is limited to her desk. The table has an antique touch, which once again speaks of the artist’s creative sensibilities. The desk has a pile of thick volumes of the Upanishad, Mahabharata and other mythological books. Patil says the set changes depending on what she is working on. “All of them are related to my forthcoming mytho-historical graphic novel, Parva. A few days ago, the desk had a different selection altogether,” says Patil. Her first graphic novel Kari, a story of two lesbian lovers, recently hit bookshelves.

What makes Patil’s workspace interesting is the interesting play of light. While cane blinds covering the huge wall-to-wall windows allow a faint yellow light, the bright red Naga shawl, which doubles as a curtain to the terrace door, ushers in a pinkish hue. Further adding a mystic air is the metal wind chime, one of the few accessories in the room.

Though strange for an artist’s studio, the walls of Patil’s workspace do not sport any of her creations. The reason? She fears she might get tired of her own work. Also “the volume is too large for a wall to contain it all”. When she catches you looking at a small vertical frame next to a door, she laughs, “Even that’s not my work. It is there to cover the crack on the walls.”

While most graphic novelists work on someone else’s storyline, Patil does it both. “Write and draw—that’s what I can do. And my surroundings help me shape it all,” she says. ©