MORAL STORY

                                             "I DO REGRET!"

Today I open my Facebook account as usual. My community is as lively as ever. A smile spreads across my slightly wrinkled face.

I check my personal mail and reading a particular mail, I sit in my chair, shocked and disquieted.

My eyes get watery. Unable to look again at the bright screen, I look away through the window, where Jacaranda stands in full bloom…blue blooms!

Being a painter myself, I am the owner of an arts institute, where courses on different types of drawing and painting are offered. I have a community in Facebook under the name ‘Come on, bring your colours!’

I receive umpteen drawings and paintings in the community every day, from artists, undeterred by age and region. The artists send their works based on the idea I give each month. It is always a wonderful feeling to know that the world is full of blessed souls. And that sometimes makes my job of rating those works a tough one.

Reading that mail, my mind reels flashes from the past.

Last month I had given the idea ‘Memories’ for a painting contest. And in order to find young talented artists, I had given the eligibility age of artists as 20 years and below. The reason, my only daughter’s 20th birthday fell this month. I had planned to give wonderful prizes for the best ten entries too.

The inbox was literally bombarded by the scanned images of creativity pieces by thousands of teenagers. I was mesmerized. As I critically analysed each painting, I could see the fertile imaginations of each young artist. I was amazed.

My surprise was challenged by a particular painting.

On a sea shore, stood a man in blue bikini! You see, A MAN!!!

My first response was, definitely, a big laugh. I had never done that looking into any piece of artistic work before. But that time I couldn’t resist.

To the  idea of ‘Memories’, a boy name Niranjan, 20 years old, has drawn a painting, which was beautiful otherwise, but was awkward in its characterisation. I had given an option to the contestants to describe their work in 2-3 sentences, if they needed. But in Niranjan’s painting I saw only one word ‘Memories’, that too written artistically.

All other works were rated and I had rewarded the top ten accordingly.

I had kept aside Niranjan’s work and wanted to send him a personal mail, as I thought being a 20 year old boy, he was trying to outwit. To be frank I was a bit annoyed. Acting smart, boys may find it quite thrilling, I had thought. Adding fuel to fire, at that moment, I was informed by my daughter that she won’t come home for her birthday as she had some study tour on the same day.

My life has two awesome colours, the only two colours – one, my daughter, and the other, my institute. Without them my home and my days would be so monotonous and boring like a blank canvas.

That pain, I must confess, had reflected in my letter to Niranjan as well.

I had written him a personal mail, which read like this:

“Niranjan, received your painting for the given idea ‘Memories’.

Boys of your age may find it exciting to do silly things about which you may be proud of and about which you may boast of. I find your painting very childish. See, you have drawn a beautiful seashore. I appreciate!  But what was in your mind when you drew a man in bikini standing there?

You can’t tell that was a woman. Your drawing very clearly reveals that! A stout man with moustache and beard wearing a bikini. Boy, this isn’t cool!

Your painting had no description too. Then, what was your idea? You meant a transexual? If so, why didn’t you mention it?

I find it weird, as well as annoying! Stop acting like a child who draws a colourful zebra or an animal with elephant’s head, horse’s body and monkey’s tail and name it MAN!

Being fair, I haven’t put any rating on your work in the online community. But it was very ridiculous! If you meant to be funny, then it is okay, I believe all who eye it would have a good laugh!

If you are serious about painting do learn the basic things and try to bring ideas through your work. If you can’t explain it, then it is useless.”

I had wound up my mail with this –

“See things in a more mature way and act accordingly.”

Then that mail had gone to the ‘sent’ folder.

I got engaged in my daily chores as usual and I got no reply from Niranjan.

And today I have got that shocking mail from Dr. Ashuthosh, consultant oncologist of the reputed cancer institute.

The mail contained a scanned copy of a handwritten letter as well as the painting drawn by Niranjan.I have read the mail.

“Dear Mrs. Leela Sharma,

I am sending this mail and scanned attachments as requested by Niranjan, who was my patient.”

The ‘was’ did strike me. But chance of mistakes; it can happen to anyone, I have thought.

“The hand-written letter was written by him and as you know the painting too was done by him. He was a gifted painter. But, death has no such prejudices. It can come and take any one, anytime. Niranjan was suffering from lymphoma for the past many years and he has passed away last day. He had requested me to send you this, and I am doing it.

Thanks, Dr. Ashuthosh”

My heart has skipped a beat. I couldn’t look at the computer screen again. That’s why I looked out.

It took some moments for the truth to dawn upon me.

As I look at the Jacaranda, those blue blooms shake in the wind and whisper something to me.

That boy was not acting smart. He was not playing games. No one can play games when life plays bigger games!

Then an urge to view the attachments conquers me.

I scroll down and view the attachments, the scanned image of a hand-written letter and painting, done by the boy who sought heavenly abode too early.

“Respected Leelaji,

I am sad that my painting annoyed you. But l want you to know one thing – I wasn’t acting smart. With all due respect, I want to make my idea clear, which I failed to write down there, then.

I have drawn a MAN in blue bikini, standing near the sea shore, staring the sea!

My imagination –

There lived a lovely couple near the sea, who used to go for swimming regularly. The sea was an intimate part of their life and they trusted it always. But during one such swimming session, the man lost his wife to the outrageous sea waves. Her body was found later and the only identification left on that destroyed dead body was her blue bikini. The man couldn’t accept that truth and went mad since then. He wears that bikini and walks and shouts along the shore, in her MEMORIES!

I am sorry that I couldn’t make it clear there! You need not reply to this, as I may not be able to see that, I am setting out for a long journey.

But I love painting; I am your fan too.

With apologies and regards, Niranjan”

I look outside again; helplessly.

A gentle breeze caresses my face. I feel cold, I realise my face has tear stains.

I do regret!

For the words mailed to a dying young artist, belittling his imagination, his work and his spirit!

I have passed half century on this earth; I am a famous painter; I am supposed to encourage the budding artists, which I have done always, except in the case of Niranjan.

I know that everyone is different; I know that no one can create framework for others’ imaginations; still I had failed to appreciate a boy’s work. Instead of appreciating, I had mistaken his spark!

Besides, I can’t even apologise for my words directed to that boy; he has already left to meet his maker.

Uncontrollable feeling of remorse and shame trigger in my soul.

I sit there paralysed, with a dazed feeling, mentally absent, less coherent.

What sort of an artist am I?

__END__

                                                                                                          SOURCE BY-MRIDULA

PUBLISHED BY-OURHELLO.COM