As some of you might already know, I am on a weight reduction program that my husband arranged for me because of knees problems I faced due to sudden weight gain (thanks to hypothyroidism). I wrote a post about it earlier.
Hence, since 10 July, I am on a diet that largely contains fruits, dry fruits, milk and a meal-replacement shake called Safolla Fittify. It tries to keep me away from regular oily and spicy Indian food. But an Indian cannot live without spices, so I am allowed normal food during lunch only. My breakfast and dinner are strictly controlled. I am allowed dry fruits all day, but they don’t taste as good as the Bread-Jam and Aaloo ka Paratha (Potato-filled Chapatti) I would rather have.
In the beginning, I could feel a pride of Lions clawing from inside out, but after 3 days, they shrunk to the size of a small pack of Dogs and I stopped crying at dinner time. One week later, they gave up the struggle and died a painful death. I only have little mice now, who often remind me that they would rather eat something. I throw them some dry fruits and they are happy.
Even though I was reluctant to accept the rules in the beginning, I have to admit, I feel like a new person. Since I was only 60+ kgs when I began, nearly 10 kg reduction in 3 months is a lot. Ever since then, my weight has stablized and I can hear my knees thanking me for the small sacrifice. I am still on the diet, but now, I am okay to trudge along as long as needed.
My daughter is a minimalist. Her paintings contain only what is absolutely necessary. For example:
Two caterpillars and half-a-fish
Her caterpillars have multiple feet, yet her fish is an oval without fins or tail…but what’s the big deal! The fish knows she needs neither fins nor feet while living out of water. She is what she is and that should suffice.
Two horned (African) Rhino
This two horned Rhino…just so that you know, the horns are blue triangle patches and round orange patches are the eyes. She told me it is African, and hence the two horns.
Monkey atop a fish’s head
Her monkey has no hands nor legs but makes do with his tail. No need to add extra weight to his frail body that already carries the weight of an oversized head. The head beneath him belongs to a fish (a hammer head shark, it seems from the shape of it!).
Cat with her litter of five kitten and an adopted monkey.
The best part is the cat. She has two legs and a tail, and a litter of five kitten-blue and black. All her babies are unique in shape and have different characteristics (two legs, no legs; ears, no ears; body, no body…). She also seems to have adopted a yellow baby monkey (because I have been assured by the painter herself that it is indeed a baby monkey and not a cat). He also seems to be wearing a monocle on his eye, however, the painter declined to comment. I believe diversity and inclusion is the cause.
She created all these paintings in her first attempt at painting on the day she turned three. It was a hasty work to finish the masterpieces before any interception from a meddling mother.
The background was the walls of the playschool I had created for my daughter on her birthday out of an old refrigerator box (since she could not go to Playschool this year, thanks to COVID 19). My daughter quickly painted the inside walls while I was busy arranging food for hungry mouths. I hadn’t even finished sticking chartsheets on the outer surfaces by then. She had a gala time.
But now the playhouse had to be retired because of its depleted condition. I have pictures for memories though.
Here is some work we had done together on the walls. I had written a couple of posts about it earlier.
My daughter’s next killer story. Please note that the entire story has been lifted…I mean, inspired by a Disney story called Lambert, The Sheepish Lion.
Original plot:
One night a flock of sheep is sleeping on a farm. 🐏🐏🐏
A stork, by mistake, delivers a Lion baby to a Sheep. 🐈🐏
The rest of the sheep make fun of him, 🐈
and he grows as rather a sheepish lion, who is “not ferocious like a sheep but has rather a sheepish grin”. 🦁
One night, a wolf 🐺 tries to pull away his mother 🐏, the sheep, by the tail to eat her.
She cries for help. 🐏
It wakes the Lion’s inner ferocious Sheep. 🦁
He 🦁 runs to the wolf 🐺, gives him a head butt like a true sheep, throwing him down a cliff. 🐏
He becomes a beloved Hero.
It is a lovely video about finding your true identity. You can watch it on You Tube via this link.
So, I had asked my daughter to tell me a story (to escape a similar request from her). I told her I wanted a story of a Hippo. She offered the Hare and Tortoise again and later, Lambert the Sheepish Lion. But I told her, I wanted a Hippo story. So, she simply replaced ‘Sheep’ and ‘Lion’ with ‘Hippo’. Here is her story.
One night a flock of Hippos was sleeping on a farm. 🐏🐏🐏
A stork delivers a Hippo to the Hippo mom. 🐈🐏 (Of course, the stork won’t always be making wrong deliveries. He isn’t your local postman.)
The rest of the hippos make fun of him. (Not sure why…) 🐈
He grows as rather a…Hippo. 🦁 (What else would you expect?)
One night, a wolf 🐺 tries to pull away his mother, the Hippo, by the tail to eat her. (At this point, I remind her that hippos are rather heavy to be pulled by the tail. She explains that it was rather a strong wolf.)
She cries for help. 🐏 (I ask her why the Hippo mom did not bite the wolf with her large teeth, but she ignores the question andploughs on.)
It wakes his inner Hippo. (Of course!) 🦁
He🦁 runs to the wolf🐺, gives him a headbutt, like a true hippo throwing him down a cliff. He becomes a beloved Hero. (Tadaaaaaaaaa)
The guy often flies pretty close to the ground and I can often take clear pictures of him from my roof while he makes baby deliveries. He was rather pleased with his last post–It brought him quite a lot of fans, so he is posing for more.
If you notice, the picture is looking doen upon this flying beauty. It is because I am on my fourth story roof and he flying at third story level.
Not sure why but Egrets always look to me like grumpy old men. Their expression is always downcast and sad, shoulders hunched…I love them for their grumpiness.
My smartphone has a thing against making calls to my husband. Specially, during the pandemic, our connection has gone for a toss.
1. On the first call, I get no dial tone, no caller’s tune–only a woman in her mid-twenties educates me about COVID 19, washing my hands and keeping a six-feet distance. Yup! That’s the standard caller’s tune in India now. I wait for her to end her ranting so I can bug my husband. She speaks non-stop for sixty seconds. Then the call goes dead.
2. I call again. This time, some random guy picks up the phone and we both hello each other without being able to talk. I hang up.
3. I call yet again. The call gives some feeble beeps and goes dead.
4. Desperate to get through to him, I call yet again. The call connects but I can’t hear him. The call disconnects after 8 seconds.
Frustrated, I dump my phone and stomp off to let off my steam.
5. Five seconds later, my husband calls me demanding to know why I had called him four times and never cared to speak. Duh!
I was 9 years old then. My brother who is a few years older than me was already pretty good at painting. So, my father arranged for a tutor for him during our two-month summer break. He was a good painter–somebody my father had employed to paint his own portrait at that time. I was so excited at the prospect that my father asked him to tutor me too. He was sure I’d quit within a few days as I did everything else. But he was fine to pay the fee, as long as I got a fair chance.
I was an average fourth-grader, but I was proud of my accomplishments. My ‘paintings’ would cover the house walls in all the prominent places–a family of bears (mom, dad, baby), a family of ducks (mom, dad, baby) and a rainy season scene (a building with flowers and raindrops) were my trophy pieces. My parents showed their unwavering ‘fanhood’ no matter what I created. They would applaud and suggest a good place on the wall to display the painting. I was sure I was destined for great things.
Our class had another couple of kids, and we differed in ages and sincerity level. When I joined the class, I had great enthusiasm. I expected myself to turn into a great painter by the end of the summer. That day, my teacher gave me an art book, which was far beyond my years, opened a page of animal pictures, and asked me to draw a Squirrel. No explanations, no tips.
I tried my best and achieved what a 9-year old could in 45 minutes. I was rather proud of myself when I presented my teacher with the best painting in the world.
He took a look and guffawed. Then he added springs to his feet, and told the class, it was a Kangaroo and it was about to jump. Everybody laughed.
That was the last day I went to his class. At least, mentally I was always absent. He reported to my father and he told him not to press me. I even stopped painting for a few months. I don’t remember talking about that incident but it was always there in the back of my mind.
A couple of years later, I was talking to my brother and I told him I longed to paint like him but didn’t know how. He told me, “Practice daily. You will get there, I’m sure.” Then, to motivate me, he gave me a tiny unruled notebook and told me to practice in it so that I do not lose my work and see my progress. The first thing I made in this diary was…any wild guess?
My brother told me that Chip and Dale looked great, and that I should practice daily. I’m sure I did not become a wonderful painter overnight–I hadn’t practiced in two years. But he saw I was putting in the effort, and he got me going. Within a couple of years, I was creating portrait sketches, and my work was far beyond my years.
David Dachovny (X-Files fame)–my first portrait sketch I made in eighth gradeSachin Tendulkar (the Cricket legend)–a sketch I made in 10th grade
Thanks to my brother, I got my Bachelors in Painting–with Merit and second highest score in the Painting subject in the University. My practicals exams had 98% score–a rarity in Arts.
All this was thanks to the great teacher who told me to believe in myself. Both my brother and I are now in the business of adult education and I can vouch for his method.
A successful teacher does not teach great things. He motivates his students to forge their own path.
-Me again
Just for the sake of bragging, here are some paintings I made during Bachelors.
Hrithik Roshan in oil paint (My second love)…a story for another dayGul Panag–former Miss India and actressMom and dad on swings–my own style–finger and nail painting.Tiger in the river–Water colours
Short Stories | Fish-eye Perspective 