Are you caught up with life, do you have a moment to ponder on things, that were important some years ago? Well that's exactly what's happening with me. I am so caught up with everyday affair, that things that ought to have been of some focus, have taken a back seat.Those years of carefree wandering comes back to mind and I really wish I had the courage and time to take back those things.
I still remember Dad telling me that I should put in more time on my painting. Even then I knew, I wasn't for it. But I enjoyed my time painting. I really wish I had that creativity that takes to be an artist. Then those days when Dad would ask me to write something for him. And I would be seen pondering on prose, coining him lines, which to my young mind, was poetry. I know Dad was more indulging than anything else. I really can't think I had the material that calls for poetic outburst! All said and done, I have attempted so many things, yet none a master I can call myself.
Those reluctant days at college, then hurrying back home, to enjoy an evening with some book. Behind closed doors, I was in my own world. Rarely would I open the door to let anybody in. Of course, during that time, it used to be Amma or at times Sree, at home. Still I never would open up for anybody. I was happy content in my own world, reading, devouring what was poured in those books. I enjoyed all genre in equal tempo. Be it M&Bs, Crime thrillers, Comedy or even Tintin, everything was read with a passion far greater than imagine.
Suddenly I would feel the need to paint. And its found its expression in many ways. When I first started blogging, I thought I should pull out all my drawings and upload. But guess it never happened. I wonder why things never turn out as how we want! What is the reason that it doesn't work out?
I still remember Dad telling me that I should put in more time on my painting. Even then I knew, I wasn't for it. But I enjoyed my time painting. I really wish I had that creativity that takes to be an artist. Then those days when Dad would ask me to write something for him. And I would be seen pondering on prose, coining him lines, which to my young mind, was poetry. I know Dad was more indulging than anything else. I really can't think I had the material that calls for poetic outburst! All said and done, I have attempted so many things, yet none a master I can call myself.
Those reluctant days at college, then hurrying back home, to enjoy an evening with some book. Behind closed doors, I was in my own world. Rarely would I open the door to let anybody in. Of course, during that time, it used to be Amma or at times Sree, at home. Still I never would open up for anybody. I was happy content in my own world, reading, devouring what was poured in those books. I enjoyed all genre in equal tempo. Be it M&Bs, Crime thrillers, Comedy or even Tintin, everything was read with a passion far greater than imagine.
Suddenly I would feel the need to paint. And its found its expression in many ways. When I first started blogging, I thought I should pull out all my drawings and upload. But guess it never happened. I wonder why things never turn out as how we want! What is the reason that it doesn't work out?
Anyway while I ponder on such things, let me share with you, a painting that is so dear to my heart. This picture of Oliver Twist represents Me, in my young age! I best relate to it and wanted to have mind frame in life. Unconcerned with the happenings surrounding me. I interpret the picture as, a person so carefree of worldly bondage, doing my share of work, yet not worried about things that happen or not happen.This is Life as it happens!
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