Met

My teenager who is ready to go to high school to major in arts, has been quick enough to imbibe the artsy terms in her daily lingo. Like a true blue-blooded artist, she comes to me saying she feels stuck creatively and lacks motivation. In my mind of course I start to think of the endless number of times I will be fielding this situation in my near future. A quick trip down the memory lane reminds me the very first time I was ‘stuck’ in my first year of architecture and my mother had come to my rescue. She practically designed my very first architecture design project for me, a pavilion on some hypothetical site.

Anyway, so I have an equally cliche suggestion to help her get her mojo back. I suggest that we pick a book from our shelves, any book, pick a page number and consequently pick a word on that page. We then either draw or write with that word as our inspiration.

So today’s word is from A Cup of Comfort, page number 300, word number 3: Met.

My instant reaction is to write something. She starts sketching using her new sketchbook and graphite pencils.

‘Met’ is a relatively easy word to write or sketch. Or so I think.

I decide to step outside my comfort zone and sketch instead. Recently very inspired by the paintings of Amrita Sher-gil, I go the route of drawing a woman in a flowy sari, who climbs down a series of steps, inspired by Benares from my recent travels, where she met a young girl who is the carefree version of herself. I am mighty pleased with my concept. Maithili and I both discuss our ideas. She dismisses me reminding me that our ideas of cheesy are vastly different. I can’t disagree on this. Coming back to my sketch, this is clearly not going as I thought it would. My hopes of being the next avant garde revolutionary painter are smashed to the ground within minutes. As I glance over, I see she has used both the options; text with a sketch.

She says, “Perhaps a dilation of the eye, or an increase in the heartbeat, meeting someone once again, can take many forms…. ”

The bounce in her stride tells me that she has met with the artist within her. She wants to do this again tomorrow.

I, sadly, met with my vulnerability and fear.

I wonder what will be the prompt word for tomorrow.