Sign

His Fee Was a Signature: The Artist Who Placed the Gods in the Constitution.

Two artists were selected one was Nandalal based the other was rammanohar Sinha. Sinha 16 pictures were selected.

A story that has gone viral in Maharashtra speaks of a quiet, deeply symbolic moment connected with the making of the original Constitution of India. It is the story of an artist who drew pictures of Indian gods in the Constitution and, when asked what fee he wished to take for his work, made a request that surprised everyone. He did not ask for money. He asked only for permission to sign the book.

The Constitution was being prepared as the foundation of a new nation. Alongside its carefully debated articles and clauses, it carried visual elements meant to reflect India’s civilisational depth. The artist’s task was to draw images inspired by India’s sacred heritage—forms of Indian gods and divine ideals that had guided the moral imagination of the land for thousands of years. These images were not meant as objects of worship, but as reminders: that the modern republic stood on an ancient moral soil.

When his work was complete, the question of remuneration arose. In a world where skill is measured in currency, the artist’s response was unexpected. He asked for no payment. His only request was that he be allowed to sign the Constitution itself.

Permission was granted.

But when the moment came to sign, the artist did not write his own name. Instead, he wrote a single word:

“Raam.”

With that act, the story moves beyond history into meaning. Raam, in Indian thought, is not merely a deity or an epic hero. He is the embodiment of dharma—righteousness, self-restraint, justice, and humility. By writing that name instead of his own, the artist erased personal identity and offered his work back to the ideal it represented. The gods he had drawn were not separate from life or law; they stood for values that must guide both.

The gesture is especially striking because the Constitution is a secular document. Yet secularism in the Indian sense has never meant a rejection of spiritual values. Rather, it means respect for all paths, and governance anchored in ethical principles. By inscribing “Raam,” the artist was not inserting religion into law, but reminding the nation that law without dharma becomes hollow.

Maharashtra’s cultural memory has preserved this story with affection because it resonates with the Bhakti tradition so deeply rooted in the region. Saints and poets repeatedly taught that the highest service is done without ego. One’s name does not matter; one’s offering does. To work for something larger than oneself and then step aside quietly—that is true devotion.

Whether every detail of this story can be historically documented or not, its power lies in what it conveys. It speaks of an India where art was worship, work was prayer, and contribution did not demand applause. The artist’s fee was not money. It was participation in something timeless.

By drawing the gods, he gave form to India’s spiritual inheritance. By signing “Raam,” he surrendered his ego to that inheritance.

And in doing so, he left behind a signature far more enduring than a name.