Her eyes lit up as he came to a halt. All her life, she had been dreaming of this and within two days of his first visit, he had made it a reality.
“Hop on!” He smiled. With a fleeting thought of her parents, she got on the bicycle and held on to whatever little part of his shirt she could.
As he sped on, the heavens opened up and the chilly breeze kissed her face, brushing her soreness away.
For the first time, she felt bliss.
When he dropped her off at the hospital, she knew something had changed within. She was free. As she followed the nurse inside, the seven year old was hopeful.
He was not going to allow the cold, wind-driven rain to change his plans. Today’s Author
He replayed the motivational speech in his mind.
“Fitness is everything.”
He took one look at the wet street through the window, heaved a sigh and turned to his unmade bed.
What wouldn’t he give to cuddle up inside those comfortable sheets?
No. He had to go, it was his destiny.
He imagined the roads calling to him. With fierce determination, he walked, away from his bed, to the front door. Opening it, he stood on the doorway.
Squared shoulders and head held high — a perfect silhouette. As he took the first step onto the rain-lashed road, the camera zoomed to his shoes, and on it was the logo, bright and shiny.
“Yolker: Dare or Dare?”
Applause broke out as the advertisement ended, and up on stage, Richard’s face glowed with pride.
He thought of that wet morning. Motivated by a fitness advertisement, he had run uphill on a cold, wind-driven rain — only to slip and dislocate his spine.
That day, he realized: lying sells.
Smiling serenely, he accepted the award from his wheelchair.
Ever had that feeling of being lost? The frustration of not being able to be as good as you want to be? I know I’ve had that feeling – still do, but that’s when we need words like these. To calm the soul, to assure us that it’s all going to be fine. Because everyone’s gone through it. Every artist faces a point where he or she’s torn between scarcity and abundance.
Art doesn’t make money grow on trees; we all know that. And we still choose to do it.
What do we hope for, when we continue to create art despite knowing that it might only lead us down poverty’s path?
Are we hoping for the next best seller? The cover image of a popular art magazine? The headlines of the reputed news channel that no one but the rich have the time to while away on?
Hell yes! Every artist hopes for recognition. And abundance.
But these’s more…
It’s not just the glitter that we’re after. We create art, because we have to. Because knowing that you want to be an artist and not working on it, is like burying all your dreams and accepting a hideous mask in this already two-faced world.
And as artists, we can’t do that.
So we create art instead – the only thing we can do to stay sane. Such art comes from the heart; it’s raw, it’s fresh and it connects with its audience.
And once we’ve reached that point, the glitter follows.
It’s a beautiful life, an artist’s. And Amanda Palmer has beautifully phrased it in her book, ‘The Art of Asking.’ I haven’t read the book, but after reading a few excerpts, the book’s now on my list. If you enjoyed this excerpt, you might want to check out another one I shared sometime ago, also from the same book.
P.S: The image is a screenshot from Brain Pickings Weekly (with their signature yellow quotation mark.)
So, the third of January – I don’t know about you guys, but my new year hasn’t got off to the best of starts.
What started as general health checkup, landed me in some gut-wrenching tests. Apart from the money we’ve spent, (which is quite a lot, considering I’m neither anemic nor mad) it’s the waste of it all that annoys me.
The medical industry is one of the highest earning industries. Not just in India, but anywhere, money speaks. And the more you have, the more likely you are of falling fatally ill.
Not to mention the mental stress involved. Commuting from one hospital to another, carrying a file each, for your primary doctor, as well as all the others they referred to, carrying a bulk of cash receipts that lightened your purse but weigh heavily on your chest, having to look at the dejected faces of the other patients – it’s like voluntarily spending money and time to get nothing but torture in return.
“Better safe than sorry”
They all say it. But that kind of safety is still as painful as being sorry. Some things are just that way, and I don’t have a solution. Which just makes this post a completely pointless rant.
Wishes abound —
Celebrations galore — lights aglow,
Resolutions, that last a week.
No matter how cynical, the first day of a new calendar year is nothing short of joy. I had a quiet day of rest and relaxation – just the way I like it. Hope you all had/have a good day too.
It’s official; let’s get it started. New year, hopefully happy.
