Your greatest work of art?

As they say, the farther away that you go from your home, the more you aspire to bring a little piece of that home to you. After all, home is where the heart is. Well, for a teenager, that meant becoming a traditional Indian lass, deciphering Sanskrit shlokas, discovering Indian masalas, and wearing the trending salwar kameez. Though it was occasional yet much to my dismay, I felt alien amidst my boisterous Cameroonian friends. Actually,it wasn’t as painful as I paint it, because it also meant endless story nights, especially the ones about the Indian Gods and Goddesses, with my mother as the master narrator. Each time I wondered what the message of the story was, or what I was supposed to infer from it, she would smile and say “you will know when time comes.”

Standing for the school council elections was a natural expression of my dominant instincts. Over a period of time, I saw the importance I was getting from my classmates, felt good about my position and reputation and how everyone in school had begun to look up to me. I almost felt successful and big. The annual inter school extempore competition was announced and we were shortlisting our entries. Taking my position and past experience for granted, I under prepared, as a result of which, did not make the cut. My best friend was selected to represent my school at the competition.   

The best place to nurture one’s wounds are in the arms of the mother. And that is where I ran and hid. My friend felt my hurt and in one stroke, dealt with my pain by whole heartedly, asking me to help her craft the speech. I put my soul into writing it. She was floored as she went through it repeatedly. Sure that she had a winning entry, she hugged me, thanked me and confessed that she genuinely believed I was a better candidate to represent the school - and the speech I wrote just proved that. I secretly nursed my ego, but felt a bit relieved that of all people, at least she still thought that I was good enough. The next morning, I was called by the school principal. My friend had submitted my speech and informed the teacher that I had authored it, and requested that I be allowed to take her place in representing the school. The principal exclaimed to me “ What an amazing speech! Why didn’t you write this the first time itself?”

One day Valmiki came to know that the great Hanuman too had penned the adventures of Rama, the Ramayana, engraving the story with his nails on rocks. His curiosity was aroused and he travelled to the Himalayas where Hanuman was residing in order to see this version. Valmiki kept reading as his eyes brimmed with tears. He was overwhelmed by the sheer power and depth of the amazing narrative. It was truly admirable work, inspired by great love, devotion and single minded belief. After finishing the story Valmiki gazed for a long time into the distance. He was joyous at having had the chance to read such an exquisite work of art and sad because it obviously overshadowed his own work. Hanuman politely asked him the reason for his sorrow. Valmiki turned to him and said, “It is indeed a marvelous bit of work. My version, which I created with such pains over a period of twelve years, is no match for the magnificence of your work and will therefore be despised. I have failed.” Hanuman smiled, broke the slabs on which he had scripted, and threw them into the deep ocean. Valmiki was shocked and asked him why he had done such an act, depriving the world of a much better edition of the Ramayana, to which Hanuman replied “ Oh Sage, do not worry or lament this at all. You wrote your Ramayana to tell the story to the world. I wrote mine only for myself, for my fulfillment and my satisfaction. This narrative was just a raw and pure form of my expression.”

My mother was right! I could now answer the question my school Principal asked of me. What is truly important and matters to us, can make its way out to the world when we choose to express it through the eyes of our faith and belief, for fulfillment. Devoid of judgment, devoid of the need for gratification, devoid of aspiration, adulation or pride. Our best creations are the ones we often create for ourselves.

On this Hanuman Jayanti, I write this short story for myself.