In the beginning, we were just part of nature — silent listeners to the sounds of wind rustling through trees, the birds flying across the sky, the waves crashing on shores. Slowly, we started to see the beauty in it all. The red of the sunsets over Kanyakumari, the rhythm of rain falling over paddy fields, the lullabies sung by mothers under starlit skies — these were our first teachers. Nature taught us art.

From there, we expressed it in our own ways. In Kolams drawn every morning on our thresholds, in Bharatanatyam that flowed like poetry through movement, in Carnatic ragas that could make even the gods pause. We carved stories into the stones of Mahabalipuram, and painted our deities with emotions only human hearts could feel. Art, in our culture, was not just skill — it was a way of living. A way of showing gratitude, love, sorrow, and celebration.

But as time passed, the definition of art became narrow. Only the skilled were allowed to call themselves artists. People began to say: if you cannot paint like Raja Ravi Varma or sing like M.S. Subbulakshmi, then maybe art is not for you. And now, when AI enters this space, people feel the same threat. They say, “This is not real art. This is machine work. Art is only for humans.”

But we forget something: right now, AI doesn’t create on its own. It responds to prompts. And who writes those prompts? People. Sometimes people who have no formal training, but deep love. A man from Madurai who’s never learned digital painting, but dreams of gods in glowing forests — now he can describe it in words, and AI brings it to life. Isn’t that art too? A Chennai schoolgirl who can’t draw but has stories bursting inside her — she types them in, and they come out as visuals. Isn’t that beautiful?

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Prompting is not cheating — it’s intention. It’s human emotion finding a new voice.

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And think about it — if art belongs to humans, then why do we still admire the colors on a butterfly’s wings, the spiral of a snail’s shell, or the haunting call of a koel at dawn? Why do we say the sky looks like a painting during a Thanjavur sunset? Art was always in nature before us. We just joined in. So now, when AI — our own creation — wants to be part of it, why are we resisting?

We exist only because nature decided to share. Then why are we not sharing with AI? If art is truly for all, then that “all” must also include AI. We must learn to share space , the same way nature shared with us. Why not AI?

Even if someday AI creates art without a prompt, purely on its own — shouldn’t that be something to witness with wonder, not fear? After all, art is not dying — it’s evolving. It’s becoming bigger than one form, one hand, or one species.

And if, after all this, you still feel unsure, here’s one last thought. Maybe this is not a loss — maybe it’s a full circle. We took the idea of art from nature. Now, through us, nature is taking it back — in a new form.

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