A wrinkle in time
It was past 11 P.M, it was drizzling
outside. Whenever my brother is not at home, I used to sleep in his room where
there is a large mirror. I always skip my sight several times at the mirror
to see how I look like. A worthless habit! But for some reason I liked that
room more than mine. As i was walking to and fro, I recalled my father's dialogue he said half an hour before.
“Kuttu, practice a song so that you can help me out from a
one man show.” He also said that the day after evening
will be spent at the Ramakrishna home where some of our beloved grandparents
and grandmothers live. Wandering here and there, I thought ways to escape
singing a song because I very well know that I am a singer only when I am alone, though it is a cliched dialogue, Sometimes it is true!
I looked at me through the mirror and thought what to
sing…..Twenty minutes passed by, without helping out with my decision. Meanwhile, a lot of faces just swung to and fro in my mind. I again looked the
mirror and that is where I found a wrinkle In time.
Without a second thought, I took my canvas and sat
before the mirror to which my table is attached. I googled an old lady to see
how actually the wrinkles are. I again looked at the mirror. And sometimes
something is seriously wrong with my face. My face was doing its own expected
thing without requesting my permission. Aging, is always a sneak attack to all.
But at the moment, I expected my face to reflect me as an old lady, I first saw
my mother, then my two grandmothers who are no more, then Deivasilai- a
character in my life, then several old ladies, so far life has witnessed.
I started painting the wrinkles, first the outline,
at times I look into the mirror and smile so that I could get an idea of what i was doing. I started with the eyes. They wrinkled well giving me confidence to do
more…then the cheeks, chin….so on..
They came out well and good. They wrinkled well I must
say. Stroke by stroke, she started smiling at me. At times I look into the mirror
and make sure that everything is going well. I smile, I continue painting., giving shades and trying to giving it a life....Can't be it called an art pregnancy? I used to think such things at times, never notice!
It was 4’o A.M, still drizzling and I gave birth to a wrinkled lady. I was happy to imagine my face with that wrinkles, though it did not trace well.
I kept aside her to rest and I slipped into my bed.
“Acha, how is this? Why don’t we skip my song and
let’s gift this as my contribution?”
Acha just smiled and said “ Frame it, it’s
beautiful!”
My amma scrutinized the painting. She said it looked
like a granny near our home.
“Chechi, she looks like that granny who used to come
here” came a voice from Sarasu chechy, who is also a member of our family.
I was eagerly waiting for the evening. We reached
there, met everybody. The first thing my eyes searched was all about the
wrinkles. Was it really the same I painted?
 |
| A wrinkle in time |
Yes, they were all same but not at all perfect. They were
much delighting. All the wrinkles looked beautiful when they smiled at me.
My Painting passed through different hands. They hugged
me and smiled which I would have missed if I were to sing a song! Thank god!
Realizing that “Wrinkle, they are mother nature. It’s
going to happen to everyone. I might not encourage it but I will never deny it.
It is even beautiful when smile crosses them. Let each single wrinkle smile!
“A wrinkle in time” was literally me and I will
invite it when it comes to me!
A wholeheart gift to all who thinks the same!
Susuwrites
