SERVIETTE

four

Here I am rushing through the crowd of thoughts, seeking a place to name as mine,

 yet dissipate into nothing as if my existence was just a mistake, 

Will there be ever an abode that would shelter me? I wonder sometimes..

I can still remember my nursery day

A tall lean lady with kind smile

Encouraging and nurturing in character

I simply loved her

I met with my passion, Art, in very early days
I loved drawing and I won prizes to my school
Something like a young protege in Arts.

I was honored, nourished and supported, 

welcoming the adoration in my campus was my daily cup of milk, 

but what about home?

I still remember the ice-cream shop near my school, 

my school was a reputed one in the city with the name after an English ambassador who propagated Theosophical society.

Yes, ice-cream shop was attached with bakery
My favorite cup cake was sold in there
All I wanted on weekends either a cone of ice-cream or my beloved cup-cake, 

it didn't cost more than five bucks

Yet, my begotten couldn't afford it
The initial signs of tampering.

Nursery days in a child's life is fun filled or at least a sweet memory of baby days
But all I remember is throwing up after the long road ride from home.
Because we shifted back to the main house after sire passed away
And I was punished with daily routine of nausea and emesis, exposure to whip of rains and chills of dew, due to one hour motorcycle ride, me riding in the front.

My begotten ones stuffed my mouth with milk and rice in dire attempt of parental care and maybe I'm cursed that I fervently put it out of my system
Tattering me for rest of the day.

Yet my spirit uplifted for my Art's.
Nothing lasts forever, does it.

New year, with new rules
That's how a year begins
Doesn't it.

"No more joining competitions, we cant afford it"

Fine, I was okay with it, as long as I could draw

And sing and dance, competitions can rest

But it doesn't take more than few months to even cut down on my art class

when I asked about it

"We don't have money' was the answer

You might have witnessed a child of five years throwing tantrum because it's parents didn't get them what they want

Well I said something like

"Fine mamma, if daddy can't afford, baby won't ask it"

Instead of giving me what I desired

I was shoved with things I didn't want

Yet I accepted it, because I believed that

Every hero.....has to undergo pain to really live his life.

Yes, I was a mature child

And my begotten ones till date use the same strategy to keep me away from my desires

The irony

i was practically bored of life 

i wasn't allowed to participate in competitions