Scribbles On The Wall
Posted by Nisha Srinivasan on Jul 14, 2018
One day, as I returned home from school, those men had disappeared.
I was so surprised to find this fresh, sky blue canvas in our living room ... on all four sides!
So I did the most natural thing that came to me -- took the two sketch pens we had and started drawing (what most others would call scribbling) over the walls.
As a habit, every day, at 5 p.m, I would stop playing, climb onto a platform in our backyard and start looking over our fence for my father's red bicycle to turn the distant corner, onto our road. And when that event happened, I would smile big and go back to play.
That day though, I must have forgotten all about 5 o' clock because when I lifted up my head, sketch pen still in hand, my Dad was staring at my new canvas. He looked pained and in disbelief.
Without saying a word, he walked out of the room and sat on the steps in our porch.
I don't remember many details here but the magnitude of what I had done to the freshly painted walls descended on me. In fear, I ran away to my friend's place and came home only at dinner time when I knew mother would be home too.
Much to my surprise and relief, the topic of fresh scribbles on fresh paint was not brought up at all. Maybe my parents were done grieving over it when I was away. And after a few tense bites, I started easing in.
We lived within those walls for the next ten years. Ample time to reflect on that letting go and letting be.
After 36 years, my parents still haven't mentioned it. Sometimes I wonder if they even remember it.
I can never forget that simple, straight let-it-go attitude. It has saved me from converting many simple, unpleasant events into chaotic mind games.
Eternally thankful for all that saved the day for me and my Dad.