Practice Makes Perfect?– A talent you’d love to have… but don’t.
It is the first day of summer vacation in the elementary school. Emma bounces around the house with a sparkly yellow pencil , a white note-book with the picture of a few colorful flowers on the front side of the note-book and a box of crayons on her hand. A long list of ideas gather and shuffle through her small head. She wants to catch and pin down each of them. She stops in the middle of the stair-case and lifts her eyes to the wall at the side of the staircase. She glances at the beautiful paintings on the side of the wall; paintings of graceful dancers, magnificent mountains, stunning water-falls. O’yes, she smiles and whispers.’ I want to be an artist’. She sits there on the middle of the stair, opens her notebook and on the first page she draws a mountain in triangle shapes, long straight lines for trees and circles for flowers on all the branches. Emma colors the triangle in brown and black, brown for the tree and decides to give all the colors to the flowers. She swipes her wavy black hairs from the forehead, holds the note-book away from her face, tips her head a little to the right and tries to study her creation. Her face is lit up by a smile as bright as the sunshine. Emma runs up-stair to her grandfather’s room to show him the wonderful art.
It is the third Friday of the month. Emma sits on her bed and looks at all the pictures on the cream color wall of her bedroom. She counts with her fingers all the drawings and then decides to start something new. It is a long Summer break and she gets bored very easily with the same stuff. She recollects how her grandmother says that,’ one can acquire any talent if you put your mind into it’. Emma thinks on starting a new project when she gets distracted by the gentle, melodious songs that come from her mother’s room. She loves music. Emma climbs down from the bed and sails through the door. She gracefully steps into the room and sits close to the radio and tries to remember the song word by word. After the breakfast Emma closes the double door from behind and tries to sing the same tune that she heard from the radio. Then she leans against the wall and breaks into a huge smile. ‘I am a singer and after some practice I will be a famous one. I will surprise my parents, grandparents and all my friends.’ Emma whispers and claps.
It is the Summer in a early July. The leaves of the mango tree rustle gently in the west wind. The bright puffy white clouds float rapidly above. Emma sits on a garden chair and reads the Gulliver’s travel. As she finishes the last chapter, a brilliant idea flashes on her mind. She wants to be a famous writer like Frances Burnett or Robert Stevenson or Louis Alcott or just like her father. Her father walks into the garden with a magazine and with a cup of tea and sits close to Emma. He turns her head towards Emma and says,‘ Me and your mom have been thinking to send you to a music class in every week-end. It will be small classe and you may like it. And if you want you can attend a drawing class too. Do you want to start in the coming week?’
Some strange imaginary ideas float in Emma’s mind. She wants to learn everything and wants to be the best but she does not like to be in the crowd. She feels very nervous in-front of strangers. Emma wipes the sweats from her forehead, she laces her fingers together on her lap, then turns her head towards her dad. ‘ May be next year dad. This year I want to focus on writing stories. Or may be after my high-school.’ She replies with a small smile.
Her dad understands. He takes a sip from the hot tea, nods his head and says,’ That is fine but let us know. We will arrange everything but you need to prepare yourself. And the idea of writing is wonderful too.’
It is a lazy Sunday. After dinner Emma walks into the living room with her writing pad. She settles her self on the baby blue sofa and pulls out a black binder from the end table. She runs her fingers on the soft silk cover then lifts the top flap. She shuffles through her random sketches on nature and on animals. She leans back more, glances at the pictures one after another. Emma remembers how her parents wanted her to attend both the music and art class. She wanted to learn them badly too. Even now she loves to sing only when no one is around She makes time to sketch but as soon as she finishes, she stacks them nicely in the binder which lays on the corner table. Her expression softens. Emma tips her head slightly and smiles. Her creations are not that perfect. But they take wing through her imagination, satisfy her and encourage her all the time.