I am a talentless fellow. Completely devoid of talents. I am not an artist. I am neither of these: dancer, singer, chef, cook, writer, poet, essayist, historian, sonneteer, musician, actor, painter, sculptor etc. I often lament and rue over my talentlessness. There is this beautiful landscape in front of me, and I cannot paint it on a canvass. There is this sun rising and I cannot write a poem on its splendour. There I am listening these rhythmic beats, and I cannot do a step of salsa. There are some fresh vegetables, eggs and spices lying, I cannot evolve them into a delicious experience. There is a song I am humming, and I cannot sing it like Freddie in front of a live audience. There are some musical patterns in my mind, and I cannot play them on a guitar. There is this world full of subject matters, issues and brimming with controversies, I cannot write an essay suggesting an alternative hypothesis, ideas and solutions. None of the philosophies are correct, yet I cannot offer an alternative philosophy. There is this patterned wall of stone in front of me, and I cannot tell its history.
With such a heavy weight of void of talents, I often wonder, do I really deserve to live? Then, after overcoming these moments of mild self-loathing, I think of undertaking an attempt to get skilled in at least two art forms, for example, salsa, and cooking! Why these two? Because at many points in the past, I have tried my hands on cooking, rather extensively and therefore have chances of doing much better in this particular art. Salsa, because I have been looking to learn it ever since I managed to dance Bhangra on the sound of electric DC generators. That day I decided that enough is enough, now I need to learn a dance form which doesn’t make me appear as if I am just back from paddy field with huge cash of the crop in my tractor and I am very happy about it. Bhangra is perfect for opening your happy heart to world.
Recently, I also tried hands at sketching. I planned to torture this art by attempting my hands on sketching “portraits”. I thought that it shouldn’t be so difficult. I first sketched various parts of a face separately, for practice. I first sketched eyes. Many of them. Squint, big, almond, coconut, groundnut, cuckoo, crow – any eye that I could remember or find over internet. Then, I sketched lips. Fat, thin, medium, moderate, pouty, invisible, smoky, non-smoky, dog’s, cat’s, cow’s etc. Afterwards, I sketched nose. Long, thin, fat, crooked, dripping, dirty, pointed, flattened, punched, bleeding, sniffing, expressing disgust, expressing happiness etc. Then, I went on to have practice on sketching hairs, ears, face, cheeks and all other “parts” of a face. After I became confident of being able to draw them separately, I planned to “complete the puzzle”. That was the capital mistake that I did. My sketches resembled everything but “man” or “woman”. At one point, I could see how a woman’s “portrait” that I sketched was actually sum total of all features from animal and plant kingdom. I gave up.
The reckless manner in which the talentlessness has entered and camped in my life, needs to be fought tooth and nail, and relentlessly. However, this is not entirely my fault. I have been brought up on diet of adages such as “Kheloge kudoge to hoge kharaab, padhoge likhoge to banoge nawaab”. This translates, in English, to: If you will play and jump (slang for playing, dancing etc. in colloquial Hindi), you will be trashed; but if you will study and be good in academics, you will be a king. I wanted to be a King of Kingdom of Splendour, Brilliance and Wealth. Ever since! So, I followed this malnourished diet to the letters and spirit, expecting to be the King someday, but now I suffer from marasmus of talent and obesity of intellect, and both of these have wrecked diabetic havoc on the hidden aspirations of being talented in “something”. I want to be talented in at least something. Before the life ends!
I will soon report on my first step towards calling myself an “artist”.