The little girl’s eyes shone with sheer joy -- also with pride. In her tiny hands, she holds to eye-level a drawing sheet -- with a rather clumsy, crayon-painted rose flower. She looks mighty pleased with her own art. As she walks along the narrow inner street, the 6-7-year-old girl with chubby face stops every now and then, holds her drawing sheet up and looks at the innocently beautiful work of art. Each time she holds the sheet up to her eyes, the eyes also well up with anxiety -- will Mother like her Red Rose ! -- she seems to wonder. Then she proceeds home. Then stops and holds the sheet up to look at her Red Rose again. Thus, in dashes she walks towards her home -- possibly at the end of the lane. Obviously, on the sunny Sunday afternoon, she is returning from her drawing class in the neighbourhood -- holding in her hand her artistic pride ! From the safe and cool shadow of the tamarind tree at the street corner, one watches the tiny girl making her way.

 

“Have you drawn this beautiful flower ?”, one finds oneself asking. She swells in pride. “Yes. Have a look at it,” she says, holding the sheet up for viewing. Of course, she is learning. So, the crayon-red has rebelled beyond the flower’s petals. For a skeptic, it might have looked rather chaotic. Genuinely, however, the Red Rose on the sheet is just beautiful -- a natural expression of how the little one looks at Nature. In her child’s view, colours of Nature often are without neat boundaries. In her view, one thing extends into the other and the third and the fourth. In her view, everything, every form has a serif of its own -- extending into the next form or object -- whether a flower or a twig or a bird on a branch or a dog under the bush ... ! A boundaryless continuum of forms of rioting colours ! That understanding of Nature shows up in the little doll’s Red Rose in crayon.

 

And, looking at that work of art -- genuine art -- she must have been very happy, swelling in pride for herself, feeling good about herself, thankful to her drawing teacher and her mom and her pop, and possibly the world (which revolves around her little self). The summer vacation is about to get over. Some schools have already begun after summer. So, this summer-time activity of drawing class may get over in a few days, may be a Sunday or two more. But her sense of aesthetics is bound to stay with the chubby charm forever. Maybe, she continues with her hobby -- which may turn into a serious pursuit some day. May be. May not be.

 

Yet, for that moment in the sunny Sunday noon, she knows that her art is for real. (One remembers one’s own teenage hobnobbing with photography. Each photograph had looked like one by Yousuf Karsh or Raghu Rai. Of course, it was all a clumsy work. In time, though, some pictures did fetch some awards and honours years later.) One wishes the same for the little girl whose name one does not know. But must she really have a name ! Yes, she has her own name, all right. Yet, her hobnobbing with crayoned art has a nameless charm. May that charm stay on forever ! May the artist in her blossom not just to full size but also to full fragrance and flavour and flair ! For, who knows, the gods may be protecting her aesthetic signature for tomorrow ! n