Skip to main content

MY WINGS ARE COMING





 


Nature provides us with tremendous opportunities to experience the wonders it has in store for us. So here I was observing the emerging butterfly from a cocoon sticking to the underside of the leaf in hiding.


This emergence of a beautiful organism was a stunning sight. I got to see it just once in my garden. I had no camera to record the process. The excitement made me shout out to my grandparents to be a witness to this natural phenomenon, alas! Their arrival was late. When they reached, there were more concerns about my welfare than the ongoing evolutionary process.


Living in those challenging times was causing stress and trauma. It was a time of upheaval and unprecedented struggle. There was no room to avoid the trauma. The only way to escape was with resilience. Coping with those life-changing events and turbulent times, I began a journey to express myself creatively. My creative talent oscillated between the two extremes.


A papier Mache wall that I made for my living room owes its inspiration to my father. That was a simple case of plagiarism. But between the father and the daughter, no legal problems exist. With the sails set, the journey began. I had a wonderful and enriching experience that I value even today.


My venture did not start amidst fanfare; it was a silent revolution for me. All along it was a story of repeated setbacks and failed attempts. The thought of failure never left me, and I continued to struggle. The predictions of naysayers and my subconscious were gaining a foothold. A minor change in the material used made me jump with joy. It was my eureka moment.


My work progressed at a snail's pace, stretching from days to weeks to months. Every morning, I would sit right in front of my last night's work. I loved to admire it for its beauty and grace.


The floodgates opened as tears trickled down my eyes when my son helped me give the final additions. I could cherish this small achievement and be proud only of myself. It was also an inspiration to one of my uncles, my father's brother, who works hard to make a mark on the walls of his loved ones.



 

 



 







Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Truth About The Paradox Of Life

Salads were the newest additions to our menu list as starters. It owes its origins to friends we visit often like a second home. The mundane sprouts could be part of creative jewellery with pomegranates and cheese cubes that had never occurred to me till I saw them beautifully and colourfully occupying the centre table. The rainbow salad on a different occasion was also mesmerising. The presentation and the warmth with which they served added to the taste as much as to the refreshing memories. As I uncovered the lid of the container on my kitchen slab, I observed that the moth beans had sprouted, and rootlets were visible. I could eat them as much as I could plant them. I decided to plant a few and serve the remaining for breakfast. They lay embedded in the soil with air, water and food in plenty. After a few days, I observed most had not survived. They had turned black and lay on the verge of extinction in that darkness. The paradox of plenty providing in excess is not good. The para...

10 UNSURPASSED COLLECTION OF BOOKS DEFINING MY CAREER

Some people discover their passion early. As a child, I often wrote with chalk on the doors of our home like a teacher, taking classes for imaginary students sitting on the floor. Some months later, real friends became my students, comfortably seated on the chairs—a clear sign of progress. Finding a passion to pursue is just the beginning. The journey ahead requires skills and hard work. It was the high road to BECOMING (Michelle Obama). 1984 (George Orwell) the year I became who I am— it marked the beginning of my journey as a Dentist. My journey had a trail of milestones. Clearing the Combined Pre-Medical Test was the first such milestone, gaining admission into one of the most prestigious dental schools, yet another.  What followed was graduation, then post-graduation, and more milestones. I was EDUCATED (Tara Westover). Both personally and professionally, the environment around me changed. I was evaluating and learning. Years later, when my little birds flew away, an empty ne...

Flipping Pages, Flipping Fates, My Tippan Moment

  My call was gladly received by my sister, who was in the midst of a monotonous job of setting a question paper for her students. She needed a distraction, and I willingly obliged. These days, we enjoy our telephone conversations more than usual. The reason is that we dwell upon the stories from the past that have been handed down to us from our previous generations. They are not stories of valor passed down the generations in musical forms to infuse courage. They seem like tall stories stretched by imagination, not only to us but also to innocent bystanders. These have become so believable to us by being repeated many times during our family reunions. The stomach-churning laughter they induce keeps those anecdotes so lively until today. Tippan Chacha (uncle) was a guest who came from far away to take a departmental examination for promotion in the city where my grandparents lived. Our grandparents were glad to have him visit them. As for one of their broods, my mother, younger th...