#10CreativeDays

My mom and I have started this collaborative art project for the next 10 days. This means, based on a common theme, I will write a story, poem or haiku and my mom, an artist herself, will visualize the same. The themes have been set for us by Prema Govindan.

Day #1

Theme: Glass.

Bella Puri

A Little Glass Window

Amidst  formidable stone walls and towering ceilings we can so easily miss out the existence of the fragile little window of glass.
But for it  would we be able to perceive the beauty that lies beyond these impermeable walls?

Natasha Puri

I was in a hurry to grow up. I wanted to feed myself, wear what I wanted, comb my hair and do other grown up things like wear make up. But being ambitious, is not a quality they like in two-year-olds. They label us obstinate, indisciplined, whereas all we really want to be is independent. 

For all my life, I believed that the English language had only one word: No. Can I watch more TV? No. Can I have a toffee? No. Can I play some more? No. But the one no that bugged me the most was when I asked to drink water from a glass. That ‘no’ was accompanied with a heartless explanation about how little I was. I watched as my elder brother drank his juice, water, milk and other ordinary liquids from Mother’s crystal glass. I swear he held it in one hand to taunt me. Often, I found myself fantasising about it, it beckoning me, as the light hit its beautiful curves and shone with rainbow colours of the spectrum. There it stood on the dining table, always out of my reach, my certificate of adulthood, my trophy.

One fine Sunday afternoon, I devised a plan. During a busy family lunch, I nudged my mother for water. I pointed fervently to the crystal glass, she didn’t have to go to the kitchen to get my ugly plastic bottle, I gurgled. I cried, it was right there! Hand me the glass! My harried mother lifted the glass and placed it back. It was the longest three seconds of my life. I could see the hesitation on her face – one more howl and she would give in. I let out another loud one and as predicted, she poured the water in the glass and as it travelled to me, I could feel myself growing up. I was inches from adulthood. I held the beauty in both my hands. It was heavier than I had imagined, and I swear the water tasted better. I felt my legs growing taller, my words had become clearer and my baby fat was slowly but surely receding. I lifted the glass many many times, and asked for many refills. I would never stop drinking water! Impressed glances made the rounds, I saw nods of approval all around the table. I had arrived.