Drawing like a 10-year old

There are tales that only matter to me full of those minimal and insignificant anecdotes. But, for some weird reason I had wanting to jot them down in my own little ways as a testimony to that moment, that day and the emotion I felt.  It’s a weird trait. But, for those of them that matter, I end up reserving my thoughts in the ‘Notes’ of my office laptop so that I don’t forget and share it on their birthdays as messages and posts. For some reason, as much as I would be delighted to have someday achieved all those milestones and dreams I imagine, I am a woman of little things. It includes creating those white sheet cards like an eight year old even in the beginning of my 20s.

This year, these funny-looking birthday cards became my thing. It all began with that monochrome attempt at a minion trio that seemed to bring about the true vibe of our little girl gang. I couldn’t realise it then but that day it had my hard work but not my heart. It was not an attempt to make her smile with my best but partly acting in a rush on a thought that came mechanically as over the years I had learnt she liked hand-made things better. However, I weirdly felt jealous and hurt as I saw that other people had taken over the place I had held an year back and I failed to get the response I was always so used to.

However, as the time went by, I realised, I was just being extremely childish and the fact was it was nice but not my best. All those previous years, I had been worse but my then best. It encouraged me to take my chances and colour my monochrome and further pour my heart into the piece of paper I would eventually be giving to her. I didn’t want her to know how I had felt so I just sneaked into her room to place it within her reach, only to see once I was gone. Thankfully, much to my relief she was glad to receive. The very next day as she posted ‘Love was felt’ it was felt equally on the other side of the WhatsApp status too.

In the upcoming months, I would go back to a minion in a batman suit to convey my appreciation and fondness for my mentor cum best friend at my place of work. Moreover, as I found myself alone without my bestie preparing the card, when her own birthday knocked, my roomies would laugh at the heart and all the love that the card hold, mistaking it for my college crush they had recently gotten to know. However, I ended up sleeping over as she eagerly waited for our midnight calls. But, the same card managed to bring her a little smile and would help me apologise and make up for the missed call. I was immensely delighted to know she liked it and we both looked forward for the day I could personally pass it on.

However, much to the dismay of most came the coronavirus and also the birthday of our fav. person from the department currently in his final sem.  Vicky and I would discuss for hours what could we do to bring a smile on his face as we were all stuck in our homes. We would settle for collages, long messages and WhatsApp statuses from him. While I would happily settle for the front page of a simplistic card and a long reserved message wishing him the best for his dreams. While I don’t really like the fact I have to keep it since I can’t hand it over, I find solace in the fact it at least served its purpose well.

Yet, in another instance, a not so perfect sketch of Buddha came back my way. One I hadn’t really made out of love and pure affection but yet with unquestionable efforts and much dedication in my attempt to be nicer and offer support for old times’ sake. I had drawn it with the help of a common friend who happens to be far better at art than I’ll probably ever be. 

However, as we fought (a fight I admit I had single-handedly picked out of my growing frustration over the months) she returned the sketch as I turned cold and refused to talk. I went back to the same friend whose help I had seeked in drawing the same. She went on to correctly point out I was no less (if not more) in my approach as I had turned cold. I took it back, and savouring my ego placed it with other pages on my own cupboard. 

Over the weeks, we would reconcile but I always knew despite it all something inside me had already broke. The pampered child of her family and little girl gang failed to take well the fact she could be deserted and somebody else could be prioritised over by her new group she had almost began treating like her own. In hindsight, none of them were wrong yet the hurt I felt stayed for long killing the very thing I had, in my naivety, attempted to protect. Though I try my best not to hold any grudges but I also learnt several important lessons in the days to come. One being “be careful with the gifts you make with your very own hands.”

PS - Even as I write it all down, I known its silly yet I hope to someday find an old soul who would for some weird reason be interested in all my nonsense including stories like these. Even if it never comes to that, someday I will probably open my tabs to go again through these pieces to smile, and laugh while unintentionally looking at all the words and sentences that could have changed.