Why did they never feel,
the same pleasure as they did
(when the elder sister was
amongst the standing ovation
proclaimed as a successful engineer)
when they saw her first painted Vase.
Why did they not encourage her
to try new mediums and buy new supplies
Rather she tried to found new ways to stir
any interest in their eyes.
For her “waste of time” career
which they despised.
Today she stands in her gallery
Amidst a huge crowd of admirers
and yet she feels so dispirited inside
Because even though she is
a renowned artist, there is no one
from the family, to receive her tonight.
It’s strange, how sometimes people drive us the most hard of the bargains and make us suffer for no evident reason. Here I will present two instances of hard bargain my teachers drove me:
The Sadistic Art Teacher:
When i was young that was around the 4th to 7th grade, we had regular art & crafts classes and our teacher was then Sir Ahmer.
Yes that is exactly my response, whenever i think about those day i suffered because of him. When i was young I had the worse drawing skills, and whenever he used to give as an pictures to draw, it was something like this:
Yes, he was a sadistic beast and liked giving complex pictures that make me shiver. And can you imagine, my blood would get cold, I would pray the whole time and shake like a nutcase, that the class would get over. The whole time, I would be like this:
In the end of each session, all my class fellows, who had magical hand, would draw flawlessly well, and I would just sit still with a lowered gaze, waiting for a good piece of my art’s Sir mind. It tore me then, really, how I could not draw and when people were usually making cards for mom and dad, in the art room, for different occasion, I kept myself far off.
The worse thing the teacher did to me , and i had to let the bitterness out of me, was that one day, we were asked to make photo frames and then decorate them with the leftover cloth pieces and those ice cream sticks. He kept yelling, to put the cloth this way and sticks that way and finally we all made the frames and left them in the art room. I was called later in the day by him, and he shrieked at me so loudly that the nearby classes heard him quite clearly, while I just flinched pathetically and the next moment, in presence of certain school fellows, he literally tore the sticks, out of the frame, harming it slightly in this action, and shouted loudly “I told you, or didn’t I, as to how this needs to be done, now go and make this again” and he threw the frame at the floor.
This is one of the most embarrassing moment of my life, and it took me years to finally forget it and go on with my life. And now, when i sketch or draw, I am actually quite good at it, (you can see my sketches for that) and I love to draw occasionally, and he should have given me some time, and space, to let me get good at it, instead of hurting me with his words again and again, because they didn’t freaking make me good at drawing/sketching or crafting.