Drawing Competition
- Abhinanda Roy
- Nov 15, 2016
- 2 min read
There was once a drawing competition, the inter-school type. The ones which entail upon us the sacred task of upholding our family’s name type. The ones in which we are expected to produce portraits genius enough to outshine the ones of those who rivaled our family at that point of time.
In one of those similar mornings, Sam was preparing himself for the battle, he was quite stirred up but the fact that Chhotu was also accompanying him was a waterfall in the desert. He knew Chhotu is great with colors, Sam always got an A in the art assignments he drew for him. Particularly appeasing was the fact that Dad gave him a new box of crayon. “If Chhotu can bring alive cats, little puppies and glasses of milk in the paper with so much perfection even with his broken color set, he sure can do wonders with the new crayon,” Sam settled comfortably in himself.
In the rush of the hour, Sam forgot to ask his mom whether Chhotu is coming with them or Mita maashi is directly reaching the venue. They arrived at the art mela in their porsche quite lordly. Mom kept on asking Sam if he packed the new crayons and all the pencils are sharpened or not. But the event was not commencing in his mind without Chhotu. Finally, they made the announcements and it began. There was no sign of Chhotu or Mita maashi. He waited hopefully till the end, till the volunteers came and collected his blank white page and stared at his face inquisitively. Sam went home with a familiar feeling of disappointing his parents once again.
That evening he was all prepared to shower down all his anger on Chhotu on how could he be absent from the most challenging time of his friend’s life, when Sam needed him the most. He knew how important it was for Dad to show Sharma uncle that Sam can paint better than his son.
However, Chhotu entered his room, his hand bandaged in white, and his fading smile asked Sam how it went. Turns out the security guard at the art mela was not aware of Chhotu’s talents and refused them entry, said that the event was not for children of maids and domestic help. When Chhotu showed reluctance to leave he used the stick given to him for emergent times such as these.
Sam cried but Chhotu told him that one day he will conquer the world with his colors. The dreams of two nine year olds found solace in each other.
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