Tags:
Journalism of Courage
Our house for the past few months has been the scene of hectic activity. Some floors are being constructed. Despite the noise, I have discovered a veritable treasure of scrap that can be moulded into sculpture.
While in the beginning the workers must have been mystified at my lack of interest in the construction every time I made a trip upstairs, I think they got used to the fact that I came up, not to check their work, but to make inquiries whether this scrap of iron or that piece of wood was 8220;spare8221;.
Chhote Mian went around with a long face. On an impulse, I presented him with a pretty desk calendar, just hoping he would appreciate the thought behind it. He did, as was evident from the care with which he wrapped it up in an old newspaper. Good humour prevailed after that. Then, one evening, I found I needed some Fevicol and thinking that everyone would have left, ventured to the top floor to help myself to some, when I came face to face with Bade Mian. Just as I was leaving with the Fevicol, he suddenly spoke. I almost dropped the Fevicol for I was more than a little guilty about the jar in my hand. 8220;I have also made something,8221; he said. 8220;See,8221; he carefully took out a wooden structure in the shape of two inverted commas joined at the base. 8220;Great work, Bade Mian!8221; I said, studying the decorative piece and was about to leave, when he stopped me with a wave of his old, gnarled hand, 8220;I made it for you. It8217;s a gift. Use it.8221;
I tried to figure out where I could fit in the piece and suddenly had an idea! I could make a new sculpture with Bade Mian8217;s happy gift as its base. So I painted his work of art and placed a little child made of ceramic clay looking skywards, smack in the centre8230;the beginning of a peace series! My reward was the first smile I have ever seen on Bade Mian8217;s wrinkled face as he observed my 8216;Earthbird8217; his rainbow commas were her wings.
