Monday, February 20, 2012

The Ache of Tender Mind

I was just watching a movie. My four year daughter came and started disturbing with her natural manner.  She wants me to play with her…. like a child.  Brought the colouring pencils and asked me to help her for colouring ! I had given my advice to her to apply proper colour in the pictures which she got from the school. As I am not getting more attentiveness on movie; I put the TV off and mingle with her painting. Her tongue is kept on making noises towards the pictures and me.

After completing the colouring to pictures; she insisted me to draw picture for colouring. It made me some dilemma. I don’t know what to draw. It is quite long time I lost interest in drawing. Stopped drawing and painting twenty years back! Some painful electrons passing through the veins! The punishment of my teacher for making sketch of  Mickey Mouse in class. Then he called and complained to my father “This student is not interested in study… he is wasting time by drawing pictures in class!?”

The same line father recited in home at night in front of all. That day, I was a culprit before my family members-wasting study time for drawing! But the problem is; my Hand can’t understand it… its again started drawing here and there and my duty is hide the outputs of my Hand in my notebooks and shelf properly to avoid any more complaints!

“Papa… what you are thinking?  Give me one picture please…..” 
Her whimper makes awaken me from the past. She started to sit in my lap and play with my face. She embraced me and kissed again and again. This is her normal technique to get some favoritism!

Then I have taken pen and paper… “what picture you want?”

“Hmmm… I need a tree with flower… because I love flower you know??”

Black pen on track of its work. She is watching eagerly and within minutes I completed that. She taken it and given a glittering smile towards me. I am watching her next movement..... she is thinking.. and silently talking himself, taking colour pencils…. The assignment is going on…

My mind again lingering to the past.  The boy is counting the coins in the darkness… every night. Coin he is keeping in a box and counting at nights before embracing to sleep. His eyes shine because the collection is reaching the target! It is a project of one year to collect twenty Rupees for buying a water colour box with brush! Now it’s around nineteen Rupees and may be will take around one month to complete the target.

He is thinking about next plan. Need to go city to buy colour box. Considering the student concession; Twenty Five Paise need for bus fare. And also find a proper day to go city secretly!!

Finally it was his day! The collection is now twenty Rupees!! Enough to buy colour box and brush…

There was a strike in school. Somebody told him about strike morning itself. He tightened his one year collection in a cloth. In class room, pupils are waiting the continuous bell from Office. Finally the peon came and starts bang on the bronze plate (bell)….. we all starts jumping to outside.

He reached in shop at city… in the middle of immense rush; it was a difficult task for a small boy to select the colour box he prefer. The salesman showed him two three models and finally he got the material which he is targeting for years!

He returned home with a victorious face! But again the main hurdle is to keep the colour box secretly in his room and paint something in the loneliness. He starts painting, mixing colours. Different colours spread in the papers. After completing his first painting (the orange sun in dawn) he smiled like a King! The materialization of a long and long ambition…..


My daughter is calling…. and showing the coloured picture

“Papa… see… I finished the colouring… how is it?”

Before I am talking anything, she ran to kitchen with that drawing. I can hear her voice.

“Amma… Amma…. See my picture…Papa drawn and I painted… see…is it good?”

“Painting???!!!  ….very bad….you don’t know how to paint… this looks bad” This was the reply I heard from kitchen.

There was a silence.  I am little bit confused. Where is my kid? What happened to her busy tongue? I peeped in to the kitchen and asked wife “Where is she???”
“No idea… may be in bedroom” Wife is busy with making breakfast.

I went to our bedroom. My daughter is fall down on bed and weeping! She was stunned by the reply of her mother. Expression of a futile expectation! “What happened?..’ I asked her. By seeing my face; she starts to cry loudly… and loudly.
“Amma… Amma….” She was unable to reply… her words jammed in between her throat and sob.
“Amma.. Amma.. says I don’t know painting…hmmmm”
The Picture Behind This Story

I embraced her. With some warm kiss, I told her
“You are a good painter… very nice….beautiful….great”
There was a break for her weep. She looks me surprisingly.

“Yes…. you done a good job… it’s amazing.. I love you.. I love you too much”

My pat on her shoulder given a new life to her face. The water filled eyes starts glittering. She still has some doubts about my comment? I kissed her face again and felt the taste of salt water flowing though the cheek. She gave some action towards kitchen… means “Amma told…”

“Your Amma don’t know anything…..  don’t know about painting, that is why she is telling like this.. she know only cooking .. ok ??”

“Really…. My painting is good??....” Her eyes blinking again and again. I had seen a smile which is hidden in her face.
“Of course….you are great!!”

My mind is flying to the past.. in the same class room.. in front of teacher who caught the student in red-hand for drawing Mickey Mouse ... punishing a pinch on his ear. The pain of tweak in mind and body!

“I am sorry my young lady…..your painting is great. I am mistaken… your are great… very nice”

My wife came to scene and embrace her with this words.

The kid wondered. She starts jumping with that painting!  Starts flirtations to her mother and told me

“See….See Papa… Amma says its good.. good painting…. I love you Amma… I Love you!!!”

She is now happy.. but, but there is still some pain in my mind. The pain of neglected feelings…. pain of denial.
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