The Wall Of Honor

The young typhoon was just 5 years old, but she knew how to get by. When I first met her she was about 3 years old, little shy but haven’t we heard of ‘Calm before storm’.

She would always be in a tearing hurry- an origami enthusiast. Cutting and folding paper comes to her naturally. Whatever be the end product of her labor, she would confidently declare it as a bird, boat, tree, frog, ghost or a whale. She likes whales and spins yarns about them as though she had actually played with one.

When it came to spinning yarns, she could make you eat out of her hand. Her imagination was boundless - Ghost who knocked at her door, kidnappers she apprehended, dinosaur she had played with, giant wheel rides & para -jumps she made… oh it was an endless progression of her imagination. Thanks to electronic media – she stays glued to the IB (Idiot Box), literally without blinking an eyelid – this might be the source of her imagination.

Try to teach her something she would throw up such resistance that made you think ‘why bother’.

When her mood permits, she would be a willing student, who comes prepared with writing pad, dozens of pencils, countless erasers and sharpeners. This is how self reliant she was.

I tried teaching her my vernacular tongue (Tamil) and it instantly appealed to her curiosity. Names of colors, objects and food, soon became her favorite words.

One day she asked for a printed primer book. I wanted to start with the alphabets but she insisted up on writing the simple words. The way she proceeded to write was awesome!

She would instruct me to open the page and hold it at a readable distance. She would look at the word intently for a second or two and then literally draw the strokes from memory.

She attempted to reproduce the loops, curves, short bends and U bends of typical alphabets. She had a peculiar way of writing – would begin at the finishing stroke and somehow travel to the beginning stroke!

She found ingenious short cuts to write certain alphabets using English letters! For her it was another type of drawing.

What else I could have done except to admire her ingenuity? Even though certain alphabets were swollen or elongated or looking comical. Needless to say these sessions were fun filled and awesome.

Of her many talents, I was awestruck by her ability in– drawing, coloring, painting and finally sticking the art work with tape or gum.

Each act mentioned was executed with a rare confidence. Somewhere in her active brain she must have had this notion – to be self-reliant.

The hand, eye and vocal cord coordination has to be seen to be believed.

Her school holidays were my punishment days. She designed various entertainments Program’s to test my skills and patience.

Hair-splitting and verbal duel, between us would be the curtains down ceremony for that day. For the next two or three days that cold war would continue. Then the typhoon would calmly enter my room meekly uttering “might I come in?” without bothering for a yes or no answer!

Then started my actual ordeal, She might have thought of this strategy (read torture) after considerable thinking. She assigned me the task of drawing a sketch.

She then proceeded to give voluble instructions on what she expected me to do – a Picasso art. The central theme was ghosts catching children, tying them up in ropes and keeping them prisoners in a palace having numerous rooms.

That was a very tall order and needed a Himalayan effort for a person like me who abhorred sketches and drawings. What was apparent was that she had come prepared for such an eventuality – she had a plastic (glue) tube to threaten me with.

Minutes ticked by, sketches made were rejected on one count or the other. Renewed efforts produced a better sketch but the lady typhoon was not satisfied. Emboldened by my failed efforts, she started to use the “cane” (by that time she had assumed the role of a teacher). That session went for an hour.

Finally by the end of two and a half grueling hours, she halfheartedly approved the work, yet had a stunning observation. She was unable to differentiate the gender of those imprisoned children. I literally did an Ostrich act - buried my head in to the ground, embarrassed.

To express her half-hearted appreciation, she stuck the art work, with scotch tape on the wall – without asking my permission or help.

To me that sketch became ‘The wall of honor’ presented by a grudging (envious) and an impish (mercurial) child. We both share the same month of birth!