His eyes appear deep, somewhat distant, over lips that withhold a smile almost on the verge of arriving. He holds your gaze only fleetingly before drifting beyond it—into the vast stillness of his inner world, where another universe takes shape each day, entwined with art, spirituality, and music in harmonious communion.
For the first few years of his life, Uttarak Debnath did not speak, preferring instead to communicate through symbols and signs. Concerned by this prolonged silence, his mother Susmita consulted doctors, who reassured her that the child was perfectly healthy. As Uttarak grew, his world remained largely wordless, yet he displayed an extraordinary power of observation at an age when most children were absorbed in outdoor play or childish tantrums.
A few years into childhood, he began drawing on paper, quietly observing his surroundings and his painter mother at work. Then, on his fifth birthday, words suddenly emerged—as though a tap had been released—first in fragments and half-sentences, and gradually in fuller expression.
At home he often sat for hours in uninterrupted calm, immersed in creation. His early doodles soon evolved into illustrated handmade books filled with written texts. These carried familiar imagery of popular characters and cartoons, yet were marked by a distinct narrative sensibility that reflected his innate power of visualisation. Surprisingly, these seemingly innocent books also included publication details, indexes, and even contact information.
A contemplative child by nature, Uttarak developed a deep emotional resonance with gods, rituals, and devotional music. He frequently asked his mother to bring clay from Kumartuli and soon began sculpting idols. Many afternoons passed indoors in deep concentration, drawing, modelling clay, and making books—activities that left little room for the boisterous companionship of outdoor games.
Whenever he worked with clay, the house seemed to fall silent around him. His pliant hands deftly shaped idols of Durga, Kali, Ganesha, Lakshmi, Saraswati, and Vishwakarma while his lips softly hummed shyama sangeet. During Durga Puja he voluntarily began performing rituals with uncommon devotion. As he grew older, he also started observing the birth anniversaries of Kazi Nazrul Islam and Rabindranath Tagore at home by drawing their portraits, offering garlands and sweets every year—a practice he continues to this day.
For the Debnath household, the young idol-maker soon became something of a priest. What began as a childlike fascination gradually deepened into spiritual discipline. He naturally took to adorning idols with flowers, keeping the altar clean, and chanting mantras. One wish he often voices with quiet wistfulness is that prayers and devotional chants should once again reverberate across every household in Bengal.
A student of Howard Memorial School, Dum Dum, Uttarak also developed an intense fascination with maps. He consistently preferred large atlases over routine toys and displayed remarkable visual memory from a young age, correctly naming the capitals of numerous countries, especially in Asia and South America. So obsessed was he with geography that he would even shape biscuits into countries before eating them. Another unusual area of experimentation was creating Bengali and English calendars, which he routinely gifted to friends and relatives around Poila Boishakh. He could also accurately identify the day corresponding to almost any date after the year 2000, revealing a striking natural aptitude.
Alongside academics, another passion quietly entered his life—writing plays populated with an array of characters and dramatic situations. In 2023, the shy boy who once spoke so little transformed into many characters under the living room lights alongside his twin sister. Together, they began organising an annual family “Natok Mela,” staged after their examinations every March. The audience remained limited to their parents, but the living room itself metamorphosed into a theatre space where mythology, family tales, and horror stories unfolded with earnest creative fervor.
In Uttarak’s own words, the drama festival is “quite elaborate.” Far from being a small domestic affair, the sibling duo goes full hog—designing publicity posters, arranging costumes and props, and doing their own makeup. Their enthusiasm was partly inspired by their brief association with the theatre group Nandikar, where they first encountered the discipline and magic of stagecraft.
In conversation, Uttarak chooses his words carefully. He says school is “a place for learning, but not necessarily for peer bonding.” Asked whether he has close friends, he replies with quiet honesty:
“My classmates prefer contemporary music and trends, whereas my mind drifts towards mythology, literature, theatre, and devotional music. So I don’t really have a friend I feel close to.”
When asked about art, he closes his eyes in reflection before speaking with surprising intensity for someone his age:
“I truly feel very few people genuinely understand painting or drawing. Society has become less educated culturally. Art education too is something not everyone understands. People outside Bengal perhaps respect art more deeply. They buy art. Here many people may have money, but not always the inclination or taste. Culture for many has become limited to loud neighbourhood celebrations.”
His interests are wide-ranging—from law and current affairs to languages and literature. He holds English in great regard, yet speaks of Bengali with a deep, almost reverential affection, believing the language deserves to be learned and preserved with care.
Looking back at history, he reflects: “Kolkata was once so advanced. It was the capital of India and had such a vibrant intellectual and cultural life. There were industries, refinement, and learning. Sometimes I wonder what changed. When I look at places like Kerala or Tamil Nadu, I see value placed on education and knowledge. I wish Bengal could reclaim that spirit too.”
Now twelve, Uttarak stands at the threshold of adolescence- already carrying the seeds of a thoughtful observer. Beneath his philosophical gaze, one senses a mind constantly brewing ideas, visions, and future possibilities. Yet there is also a lighter side to him: he is an enthusiastic gastronome who enjoys experimental food and spends holidays wandering through places of beauty and culture—the Academy of Fine Arts, the elegant corridors of the Victoria Memorial, and other spaces steeped in art and aesthetics.
He dreams of joining an art school one day and pursuing sculpture, his greatest love. He hopes to visit Bangladesh, Ecuador, and China, and longs especially to travel to Japan, a country he admires for its education system and culture of cleanliness. Before ending the conversation, he quietly adds that alongside sculpting, he wishes to continue writing plays—keeping alive, in his own way, the creative spirit that Kolkata has always cherished
