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When the ragged requited his passion...

I am writing about #MyRoleModel as a part of the activity by Gillette India in association with BlogAdda.com.

There were streaking sparks from the distant star that were scorching the narrow roads of the metropolis. I was reclined in the four-wheeled luxury skimming over a glossy magazine with skinny models teething in glamour. There was also this favourite melancholy of mine that was shrilling the juke box that I had installed into my car. 

As I passed by a pawn-strewn road flooded with scorchy rays, I happened to notice a middle-aged man who was in ragged attire (a mud-stocked banniyan and a lungi tied up to his thighs) squatting on to a stone. He had his face covered with a beard unshaven for a few days and brown, unkempt mane that fell over his forehead. 

Yet I noticed something that was so attractive about him. He was too concentrated onto something he was doing to even notice anything that was happening around him, the sun drinking away his body-moisture, him sweating profusely and his sweat tingling on to the chunk of metal he was so passionately beating at. 

Yes, he was hammering a chunk of metal and bringing it to a perfect shape. He was hammering hard onto it, his eyes keen on the piece of metal. To him, the piece of metal was his canvas and he was the Picasso unspoken of. 

He tilted his head with an unstrained passion and as he plummeted the hammer onto the metal for the last time, his ashen beard gave way to a streak of spring. His smile let me know that he had streaked his canvas in mastery.

As I looked at the passion that was invigourating in him on whatever he was supposed to accomplish for bagging his square meal for the day, I was truly inspired. Until then, I never knew that a man could hold so much love for his profession, how much ever trivial it might be, that he never cared about the burning heat, the dusty roads, the pawn-spits near by.

He brought into me a drive to chase my passion and make it my profession. I realised from him that if we happen to love whatever we do, we shall never mind the inadequacies that qualm us with feelings of failure or regret.

For when we drive, be it only bullock carts, into our favourite untrodden path, we shall reach our desired destination in life.  The ragged man who was the Picasso unspoken of, is literally and virtuously, a man of steel and he shall be my role model.

Comments

  1. Good one, inspiring indeed. Chase the passion and make it your profession.. Well said yar.. Keep writing....

    ReplyDelete
  2. I never knew that u could tranformavery ordinary person to a real hero gayathree. Beautiful.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Beautiful... just beautiful <3

    ReplyDelete

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FEBRUARY 15th, 2012





















What writing means to me...

As lonely as a cloud, as boring as boredom itself, I was. I grew up as a typical child at school but a very hefty one, I am still the same. I managed to cheer people with my innocence but did not manage to make happy friends to last a lifetime because of my gross physique. I couldn't play as I had no playmates at home and my only hobby was to sit and watch tv.

When I was studying in kindergarten, I used to visit a nearby shop with my dad. My dad was busy shopping for groceries and I engaged myself in observing things around me. The people who had mixed emotions that outshone on their faces, an old man cycling with a lot of strain, probably getting back home, the lady vendor with her dirty saree pinned up to her waist and squatting on the floor, selling vegetables, the autowala bargaining with his potential customer, the green trees which arched high with its countless leaves, the flowers that smile at me on the road side, happy child…