missing the canvas....

‘Mix the blue paint with yellow…and then add a dash of red….’
‘mm…yes…now color the portion of the eyebrows with this green pastel… No No...the pink is for the beauty dots on the cheek…be careful the smile is retained…yes yes…you can use the florescent for the tattoo ’

This would be more likely me giving an art lesson to a kid who found the skeleton in the biology lab, Ugly. Unfortunately as a kid I never had an opportunity to do that in our school inspite of unbearable desire to do so.

Admittedly as you can guess sometime in the mid eighties I was in love with colors.. I loved drawing and painting and often used to spend more time drawing the teacher’s face than listening to strange things like multiplication tables, acute angles(what’s so cute about that? ) and blah blah... I used to get scolded as frequently as it rained in cherrapunji for drawing people, dogs, cats and elephants in my maths notebook. Although I wish to claim my idols those days were Pablo Picasso and Rembrandt, they were not simply my league.!

Blissfully unaware was I of the fact that parents working in the same school were getting daily appraisal reports from villains (teachers) about their son who was doing exquisite art in his notebook instead of writing notes…Though son was aware of potential consequences and did diligently destroy the evidence from notebook before hitting home.

For fearing that they might use narco analysis (which must be like a dream come true for drug addicts) I was forced to explain the unnatural thinning of notebooks…I was so bad and uncreative at lying that probably Appa might have put his hands on his head and quipped in exasperation.

“Hell c’mon…you should be atleast good at this!!”

Well my thoughts was changing by the minute…and looking at him I though…

*bulb* “Waah…I like that pose … that’s something I never drew”. *bulb*

One day my dad thought enough was enough put me up for an extra hour at the art teacher’s classroom where I was allowed to draw and paint till I dropped dead…Though that was a wish that turned out to be false…I would get back home and still continue drawing or painting even at late hours in the night…And again I’ll get those warning to go sleep.

Think of the loss if Thomas pappan had admonished his bright son several years ago...

“Edison...switch off that damn bulb and go sleep …”

In almost similar parlance, I became an early victim which would have otherwise added a new genre of contemporary art form …something like Abstract Chekkuionism. A new level appreciated by only a select few, high on ecstasy and trance music.

Nevertheless I stuck to this passion and did occasionally win prizes in school camel color painting competitions… And that sense of pride when you see your painting up in the wall exhibiting the prize winners. I do not remember having felt so proud until months later , math’s teacher asked me to sit in unfamiliar territory in her class….

The bench.

It felt awkward after long being a permanent floor resident with fellow friends who though maths was invented to torture mankind.

In high school the passion for art dwindled. Though I never stopped drawing, subjects changed to beautiful amoeba’s , seductive paramecium’s and scenic digestive systems. While in college what I lacked in muscle power I managed to get even with guys by using creative skills to academic use. ….which meant morphing! Many of my friends have graced the torso of bikini clad actresses or found themselves in compromising pose.

Recently when a good blogger friend suggested to blog on my interest in art it's sort of making me guilty and sad that I have never painted on a canvas for the past 2-3 years…a passion which I held so close to my heart not so long ago…I was never trained how to draw or paint…sort of happy for it because when you become trained to a technique it ceases to be art…I ll stick to what art was for me as a kid...to draw or paint what I feel like and without rules and for my satisfaction…I am no exemplary artist…but I have immense peace of mind when I draw something...even on a notepad.....some kind off stress buster…

Now when I am busy buying stuff for trip and wondering what to buy for my kid nieces or nephew’s...its not hard to decide what to buy…the same stuff that I wished as a gift those days as a child….a box of color pastels …

P.S. I hope to reply to comments in a few days…..after I reach my good old city….till then auf Wiedersehen :-)

Don't forget those who left us..

And lets leave those who have forgot us.........

Achuthanandan:-
'But for slain major, not even a dog will visit his house'


Vilasrao Deshmukh:-
Bollywood tour with Ram gopal verma and Ritesh Deshmukh


Narendra Modi:-
Karkare’s family sources said Modi had dropped in on his own at the grieving family’s home, after the officer's kin had thrice told his officials that they had no wish to meet anyone
Karkare's widow and other family members have declined Modi's offer.

R R Patel
"Such small things keep happening in a big city."

Mukhtar Abbas Naqvi
"Some women wearing lipstick and powder have taken to streets in Mumbai and are abusing politicians spreading dissatisfaction against democracy. This is what terrorists are doing in Jammu and Kashmir."

When it comes to political arrogance, high handedness and incompetence all of em are the same…the same scumbags in different colors…They are not mere political leaders. They are the same people whom we have elected in the past…We must be blind if we elect any of these folks ever again…!!