Her NOTEBOOK had no lines !

I was on my way back to home. Life was miserable. I thought why not let the world go to hell (partners- Mayans) and start doing what matters to me. I needed a NOTEBOOK. The day was very hot, it had been raining heat. But that particular evening was a blessing in disguise. A cool soothing wind was blowing from nowhere. It was a pleasant sunset time, the time when elders itch for a cup of tea and children for a game or two. I failed to observe that it might well rain too. Yes, it did rain. But hardly much. Just good enough to save us from deadly heat. I climbed the staircase that led to the stationary shop. I was in love with the cool breeze before i noticed a girl was waiting to be loved more. (By now female readers would just lose interest in this note and the male ones would just start waking up, still yawning). I am sorry guys, she was too young.

A little girl had just entered the shop before me. She had a smile that would shame many actresses in no time. Hair nicely done, cleanly curled into two ponytails with the help of pink rubber bands, a pink & yellow frock, and a drawing book in her hand. She was the cutest kid i had ever seen. I was wondering why was she alone. She must have been in third or fourth grade. No, actually fourth grade precisely. The name tag on the drawing book proved it.

“Anamika Sharma

IV-B

Roll no. 8“

“Encle (ya, not uncle) i need water colors”

She spoke in such a soft, sweet and delicate manner that i was completely spellbound,

“Crimson, azure, golden, indigo and … eh .. orange”, she spoke again.

The shopkeeper quickly managed to present golden, indigo and orange, but just like me he was embarrassed of not knowing what were crimson and azure.

“And crimson. and azure.” the little girl demanded.

“Eh .. crim .. son ?”,  nodoubt shopkeeper sounded hopeless.

“Encle, crimson is red. Dark red. And azure is …”

By that time, she had already assessed that both the shopkeeper and the NOTEBOOK customer were dumb just like many boys in her class. So she chose to show us, what was azure, through pictures. (A picture speaks louder than words, actions are already eliminated!) She flipped the pages of her drawing book so rapidly that i could not see her creations, though i badly wanted to. She stopped on a page which had a drawing that a fourth grade little girl is not expected to draw. When I was in fourth grade,.. Or once upon a time when I was in fourth grade, I could draw only a hut (with a multi-utility door/window/ventilator) and a river flowing besides it which lost its shape and size very dramatically when it reached the mountains. The fact that I am saying that river flowed toward the mountain, is all because of the poor dimensions and shaken perspectives. That was my drawing in fourth grade and this was hers-

Basically there were two parts of that brilliant creation- the dark black clouds in the right and bright sun with sky painted with ‘azure’ of course, in left. It was hard to make where the division had started. The right side had a devilish look, the left side on a contrary, brought out life, hope and happiness. The strokes seemed perfect, at least to a dumb NOTEBOOK customer like me. All in all, i was so mesmerised and awestruck that at first, i thought of stealing that book so that i could share it with my friends when i write about it, lately i searched if there was a coloured photocopy facility available at the stationary shop. Sadly, neither could happen. Probably the drawing teacher would have been equally delighted when she must have seen the drawing, as she rewarded a “V.V.Good” in red, on the left side of the drawing, in a manner that only spoiled the drawing. She too, must have been lost in her childhood, when all she could draw, was a mango with the help of a compass (yes, fourth grade) which ended up looking a rotten orange.

“This is azure, Encle.”

The shopkeeper could hardly appreciate the beautiful drawing, but he was overjoyed as now he could search the colors easily. Anamika, now had all five small bottles of water colors in front of her. She looked highly elated, before another kid came panting to the shop.

He must have been in sixth or seven grade. He looked like a kind of boy they use in Horlicks’ advertisements – ‘ Taller! Stronger! Sharper! He had probably stolen Harry Potter’s frame (or James Potter’s) and then fitted the lens according to his weak eyes. His eyes were not very generous and they almost shouted, “Beat me in the half yearlies”. There was no real evidence available if he was in sixth grade or seventh, because he had a tennis ball in his hand. It’s not very surprising that girls perform better in studies, because boys are mostly into things that aren’t emphasised in schools. It’s more like a ‘TENNIS BALL vs. DRAWING BOOK’ thing. He reminded me of me, when I was in sixth grade (or seventh). Though my drawing improved marginally, the love for a new tennis ball was never decreasing. I was crazy about tennis balls which i always used for cricket (SORRY NADAL!) and of course the smell of a new tennis ball was a drug. But i had generous eyes then, and no specs.

He passed by me and came to Anamika’s side. I wasn’t that dumb to make out that he was the one that represented the brotherhood in the little girl’s family.

“Uncle (ya, not encle) how much?” the boy asked.

“55″

“I have only 30″, he said to his little sister.

“But Mumma gave you 60?” the little angel spoke with signs of sadness and curiosity.

“I bought the ball”, he said showing the ball and bouncing it as well proudly.

“Buy any two and come back for rest two later”, the shopkeeper advised. He reminded me that i had to kill him for not having a colour photocopy machine.

Her eyes were turning moist. She was deeply disappointed. Probably she had planned to buy the colours from quite a time. Probably she wanted to make a better drawing with no dark side. Her eyes, now more wet, were speaking of a broken little dream, which wasn't that little for her. Extremely disappointed, was she. But not a word, she said to her brother about the unplanned ball’s purchase. Clearly she did not want to cry in front of everyone, but certainly she wasn’t able to avoid that either. Did she cry? No. It was a time to make a decision.

“Az.. ure … and … yellow … encle”

She took the colours with a heavy heart. The boy walked ahead. While they had just left the shop, i heard ‘Anamika Sharma IV-B Roll no.8′ for the very last time, telling his brother..

“But I wanted all the colors”

“Can I have a NOTEBOOK Uncle?”