A personal story of discovering Mandala art during lockdown—and how it became my safe space.
How Mandalas Found Me
It was April 2020 when I first stumbled upon a Mandala on Instagram. It looked intriguing, but I didn’t pay much attention. The world was in the grip of the first wave of COVID, and we had been in lockdown for over a month. What initially felt like a welcome pause from life’s chaos soon turned into one of the most anxious, stressful, and uncertain times we had ever known.
Nobody knew what was going on or how to deal with it. Fear was in the air. Sanitizers became our constant companions, and news of rising death tolls dominated every conversation. We were confined to our homes, with only our family for human interaction. It felt like a strange vacation—but a frightening one.
The Unexpected Invitation
A week later, I came across a dentist-turned-artist offering an online Mandala workshop. Like many others, I was scrolling more than usual, trying to make sense of the world through digital spaces. 2020 was the year of Zoom classes, Instagram Lives, and virtual everything.
I joined the class with little expectation and an open mind. The artist was methodical and concise in her teaching. I remember picking up my old geometry box—something I hadn’t touched in years—and drawing my first circle with a protractor, dividing it with lines and angles using a compass.
The Homecoming
As a child, I had always been creative and artistic. But adulthood, work pressures, and the rush of life pushed my art into the background. The early days of the lockdown, however, gave me space to return to my canvas and paints, to express the bottled-up emotions. Holding a brush again felt like coming home.
And holding the protractor felt the same. Familiar. Nostalgic. Comforting. I drew the first circle, then another, and another. There was an ease I couldn’t explain—like Mandalas had been waiting for me all along.
My Lockdown Ritual
Every evening, I would sit down after work, retreat into my parents’ room where they sipped chai and munched on Indian biscuits, and I would draw. Circles, patterns, lines—over and over. Without a teacher or tutorial, just intuition. I’d browse Pinterest for inspiration now and then, but the process was largely free-flowing and organic.
It became my ritual. My escape. My therapy.
The Mandalas I drew weren’t small sketches—they were big A3 sheets, filled with layers of patterns and emotion. I was in awe of how many I created, and how healing the process was. Whether it was a tough day or a tender one, I could always sit with a pen, a podcast or Turkish drama in the background, a diffuser spreading a calming scent, and create. That setting—soulful music, soothing aroma, quiet creativity—is where I feel most like myself.
More Than Just Circles
This wasn’t just art. It was medicine. It became my way of processing grief, joy, overwhelm, and longing. It gave me space to feel, to release, and to come back to my center.
How did Mandalas come my way? I don’t know exactly. I feel like they were always meant to find me—quietly, patiently waiting until I was ready.
I never imagined that drawing a simple circle could lead me to something so meaningful. Over time, this practice has become more than a creative hobby—it feels like a calling. A purpose.
A Path Still Unfolding
I still don’t know if I’ll do this for the rest of my life or if it will become my full-time career. I’m a digital marketing professional by training, and often hear well-meaning advice encouraging me to “get back into the corporate world.” Creative paths are often met with skepticism in a productivity-driven world.
But here’s what I do know: as long as this practice brings me peace, joy, and a sense of home, I will hold onto it with both hands. Mandalas have been my anchor in the storm. They’ve witnessed my tears, held space for my sadness, and celebrated my little wins.
This art form allows me to express what words can’t. What looks like a circle to the outside world is, to me, a whisper of healing, a scream of frustration, or a deep breath of peace.
The Choice to Keep Going
Pursuing a creative life is not always dreamy or effortless. It comes with doubts, resistance, and fear. There are days when I wonder, “Is this worth it?” But choosing this path, despite the uncertainty, is an act of love. A decision to honor my inner voice over external expectations.
Yes, it’s a fight sometimes—to do what you love, to keep believing in something only you can see. But it’s a fight I choose. Because the alternative—living a life that looks good on the outside but leaves your soul aching—feels far harder.
I’m still navigating, still figuring it out. I don’t know what the future holds. But in this moment, Mandalas are my calm, my refuge, my joy. I sit with the discomfort of not knowing, and the gratitude of having found this beautiful, intricate, generous art form.
Thank you, Mandalas, for finding me.
With love and light,
Sneha
Leave a Reply