Recently I visited a distant relative’s home, with a beautiful portrait painted by her in schooldays- her last one. I have tried my luck on painting many-a-times, but never could set it right. Till recently, I dabbled in an unfinished painting course, but all in vain.
During my childhood, I must have played, and so did almost every Indian- the game of ‘cricket’. We played every aspect of game, but loved only batting. We would field and bowl only to finally get the bat in hand, and weild it around. But, the power of rest of greedy players always pre-maturely took my desires, and I would not have survived more than 3-4 balls. Fielding whole day in scorching sun to bat for 3-4 balls? Interest could not stay longer.
My one of close friends, loved hiking and climbing, did some advanced training, and I wished he would be somewhere climbing Andes mountains. Unable to recall, when he climbed last time, man is excelling in field of medicine, running around cath-labs and so on.
A fast-bowler spending time in dark-room, a singer with melodious voice ranting and shouting at his subordinates in police, a guitarist trying to convince a potential customer in bank…..all of them have a forgotten past. A lost passion.
I have been a straight-forward academic mind, and never could develop a passion. Only thing I could do a bit right- is studying and analysing. Praised them, and envied them of having qualities unpossesed by me. I sold the guitar I bought, to somebody who could do it much better. Loved to sit at bench and maintain scorecard, while watching a game of cricket. Croon in bathroom and rave parties, but never could sing on stage. Painted a portrait, and loved it till somebody laughed at it. Began writing a novel, which died its own death.
Whats the fuss about spilled coffee?Make a new one! May be some need to ‘undelete’, while I ponder about a new dream.