The art of quitting and vice versa

For the first half of my life so far, I was my elder sister's baby sister. For the second half, she was my baby sister. She is a good three inches shorter than me, and looks at least ten years younger than her age. And that's not the only reason why I look at her in the same way that I look at baby Aish.

But there was a time, when I could never reach up to her. Literally and otherwise. She was my goddess - tall(er), beautiful, talented, elegant. And I was the shorty, not-beautiful- but-ok-fine- if-you-insist-cute, hyperactive little puppy dog that followed her heels everywhere.

So recently, I was going through my annual ritual of looking through photos sent to me by family and friends and deleting the ones where I think I look terrible, when I saw something in the background of a photo. It was a family photo taken when Dad was posted at Hyderabad. The little thing in the background was a painting that my sister had made years and years and years ago. I cropped it out and decided to blog about it.

My sister had always been into art. When I was six and she was ten, she used to go to this lady in our neighbourhood to learn art. Sometimes, I'd tag along with her and watch them paint, fascinated. When they were working on this particular one (I think the original was a photograph in a calendar or something), I was speechless with wonder and admiration for my sister. I'd imagine myself walking along the path that led to the house on the left - I preferred it to the one on the right. Soon, looking at my interest, and concerned that the painting-wali-aunty (that's what I used to call her) probably didn't like having a non-student hanging around, Mom and Dad enrolled me in the art class too.

I was fine for the first two days, but soon my hyperactive side got the better of me. I found a new canvas, a more interesting one - my art teacher's little son's face. Surprisingly, she did not complain till the day I graduated from water colours to oil colours. (It's very difficult to remove oil colours from your face - gotta use turpentine oil and stuff). She politely told my Mom, "I think Sayesha is too active for something like art. Art needs patience. Your elder daughter has it. But Sayesha... maybe not..." So I was taken off the class. Not that I minded. I'd been getting quite bored of my 'canvas'.

During winter, my sister and I would sit on the terrace in the kachi dhoop and make new year cards for our relatives. I remember drawing particularly ugly versions of what I referred to as Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck.

One day, I tagged along with my Dad and sis to a painting competition she was participating in. They also had a competition for the 6-10 age category, and I begged my Dad to let me enter. He agreed.

As soon as the competition started, I went to one of the organisers, tugged at his trousers and said, "Excuse-me-uncle-I-can't-sit-here-I-need-to-sit-with-my-sister."

"But you're in another category. You need to sit with the rest of the 6-10 year olds."

"No-I-need-to-sit-with-my-sister." I insisted.

"I can't let your elder sister help you, my dear. You're in a different category!"

"No-I-don't-need-help-from-her-I-only-need-colours-we-only-have -one-set-of-colours-you-see."

"Uhh... why didn't you bring your own colours?"

"Because-I-didn't-come-here-to-take-part-my-sister-has-an -extra-pencil-but-no-extra-colouring-set."

He looked at me in distress, had a word with another organiser, and finally let me sit with my sister. Boy, I freaked out quite a few of the participants when they saw someone my size seriously working away on her painting in the 'older kids' category.

The best part was that both of us won a prize in our respective categories. She was in the top three and I came home with a consolation prize. (Why the hell do they call that anyway? It sounds really sad - like "There there, don't cry. Okay fine, you can have this prize.")

Mom and Dad got me my own set of water colours, and I would participate in every single art competition with my sister after that. Sometimes she won, sometimes I did, and sometimes neither did. Whenever neither of us won, I'd go to the display where they put the winning paintings, and go, "Bah! Yours was so much better! Even mine should have beat this nonsense."

We grew up, I leaned away from art, and got into music. I would sketch now and then, but my sister continued to make paintings. Relatives would request for her paintings and proudly hang them on their walls. And I would stare at them in awe and think, "Yeh wala inko kyun de diya? Hamare ghar mein kyun nahin laga?" ("Why did you give this one to them? Why isn't this hung in our house?")

Then I came to Singapore and lost touch with art. When I was in uni, I tried my hand at making paintings using MSPaint and Photoshop, but gave up soon after, in pursuit of other things such as trying to get out of uni as fast as possible.















Rose in bitmap - US$100000000000000





















Hibiscus in photoshop - SOLD

My sister too got busy in her new life and new job in the US. It appeared that both of us had given up something we loved.

I often feel that we're too willing to give up things we love. We quit at the slightest sign. I myself have lost touch with so many things I like to do, and from the looks of it, I don't see myself getting back in touch with them before next year. I have work, my master's course to finish, my dissertation to write, and I wanna take up Tamil classes. There is really no time or place for art (or singing for that matter) in my life as of now.

And I wondered if it was the same with my sis.

So this time, when I went to New Jersey, my bro-in-law showed me paintings that my sister had recently made. It made me so happy to know that she had not given up. But I had. I still have my old sketches stuck on my notice board at work, to remind me of the old days, but I don't sketch or paint anymore. I have quit. Perhaps I just did not love it enough. Because I believe that if you really love doing something, you will take out time to do it.

And it doesn't matter whether people ignore, praise or criticise it, you should never give up doing what you love. You should never think of quitting till the day you stop loving it.

I'm so glad that even though I lost touch with art, my sister did not.

She was better at it anyway.

Not just better, to me my elder "baby sister" was and will always be the best at it.