In school we always had compulsory art classes. Never a fan
of art, my drawings would appear distorted. Pinocchio’s long nose would
take an even longer bend under the scrutiny of my wilful fingers making
the picture look quite comical. Many a times, the drawings would take shape of
unimaginable, alien looking creatures, causing the Art teacher to roll up her
eyes in disdain. On those occasions, I would find myself ousted out of
class, for not completing the art assignments as per
expectations. Personally, for me, the whole ordeal would then get exciting
as the next stretched hour would be spent in chewing the dead ends of my brilliantly
sharpened pencils while watching the outside view with uninterrupted joy.
In the school lawns, the gardener would be busy tending to
the flowerbeds by watering them with a hosepipe. Seeing this, an unusually
chattery bunch of sparrows would grab the opportunity to get drenched under
unexpected showers sprayed out from the hosepipe. For the sparrows, it was a
perfect escape from the wrath of the hot summers.
Cut 2- Another hot, summery day. The fans of the classroom
providing little relief as sweat trickles down from my forearms. But I would
sit unshaken as the heat does little to dampen my spirits. My eyes stay focused
on the blank sheet of paper and my fingers seem to move with a mind of their
own with surprising ease and amazing clarity.
The subject:
I am involved in drawing a village scenery.
Surprisingly, this subject of drawing would not perturb me or
make my hands go clammy. I would go ahead with my master strokes having a very
definite view etched in my head which would get depicted on paper as well.
Alternating between blue and grey skies, the backdrop would
reflect fluffy clouds dressed in their silver finery. The tip of my pencil
would curl to draw a thicket of shrubs mushrooming on dark brown hills. A
flight of black ravens would paint the perfect picture against the blue sky.
And finally a flame of orange yellow sun dressed in all its splendour would
emerge like a shy bride bouncing between the hill tops.
The second part of the drawing would represent the scenery of a
rustic setup. A tottering house with a red tiled roof would get drawn that had
more than one entrance. Wooden bolted windows would open up to a garden patch
that had neat flower beds lined up all the way till the gate. A lady nestling
an earthen pot in the crook of her arm standing close to a well would be traced
with bold imagery. Adorning the well, two or three coconut trees would get
drawn on a makeshift path that was saddled with stones and grass.
Once the picture was completed, it would put me at ease and a
blink and miss nod from the teacher would lighten my heart, knowing her
rightful approval was in place.
Today I can still draw this picture with alarming precision as a
good number of my summer vacations were spent in my village in Mangalore.
The memories stay all rolled up in the farthest corners of my
mind. However, one peek into the yesteryears, would bring back all those happy
moments spent in my village.
There would be the coconut trees standing tall; in the centre of
the courtyard would be a well that I would peep into, to see my own reflection
alongside the other water creatures. The gigantic sweep of monsoons would bring
in a host of earth insects to surface above the ground. Of which one of the
most common guests visiting us would be the centipedes cosily nestled beneath
red earthen pots. One poke with my wooden stick would make them curl up into a
circular shape.
If an octopus’s limbs were left loose on a blank piece of
paper he would have gone ahead making awry sketches on paper. My art perhaps
reflects in the same manner.
Except for this one drawing titled “My Village”
It always brings back fond memories from South, the picture
always takes me back to
My Village!
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