The Interpreter

It was during monsoons that this 7 year old boy first got hold of a cartoon book. That lady with a big nose, wrinkle faced uncle, twirling head duck, and tailless happy cat; they all made a world around him which was fascinating and somehow life changing.

With no real thought of 'I can do it or I cannot do it' he bought his 1st drawing sheet with an ambition of sketching those portraits that he had seen. Amid all the confusion around by family members; who obviously have had nothing to do with art; he started his journey of unthinkable.

To shock all, he sketched those black lined faces with finesse that even a student in progress learning it from the best of the masters could not boast of. Wrinkles on faces were same, the nose was as sharp as the axes could be and the tail was missing (obviously it never existed). Days went by and the lines became darker and darker, the boy became better and enhanced his skills to a different level alltogether.

With no real passion for studies he wanted to dedicate his life to draw and paint. He wanted his painting to be his interpreter. An interpreter? YES – irony as it was not known till now, the poor chap could not speak; a deficit by birth. Not an end to life but or was it???

He knew (almost) by now what destiny had planned for him. And thought at times that its good not to know what your life holds for you!!

Zebra crossings are famous in The UK and other western countries but none so existed in his small town. As he started travelling alone out of his house, one day he survived what could have been an unwonted accident while on the quest of crossing the road. Little fella couldn't see the red light for pedestrians and BANG!! The presence of mind by the car driver might have saved the day for him but then the mind was full of thoughts and confusions. "Why did not I see the color of the lights, or did I? Was it green or red?" And then he recalled that he was the only one who tried crossing the road at that time, the crowd behind was still a picture perfect of being statues.

‘Achromatopsia’; this one word from the doctors changed his whole life, and a new painting was drawn. Not by him but by the all mighty! The concept of colors changed their meaning within those 20 minutes of discussion and the piece of mind which could still think could speak only one word – Your paintings would always be BLACK…..

Days gripped on the paddles of time kept cycling off and dare I say that they were fast and also incensed. He would slowly and slowly go in a shell and see the kids play in the ground with a grey football (which in fact was a yellow one) and think…WHAT A KICK! The red and the greens made no difference anymore and it seemed the paintings would indeed remain dark. The interpreter was dying a slow death of expectation but the purchase of drawing sheets never dried. He was sad but not out, it was as if the vacuums had to be filled with a rage and he duly obliged.

There were countless days, wherein he would lock down himself in his room and keep sketching those spreadsheets. Tears, foliage, love, fervor, detestation, fidelity, shrine, funerals, vows, confessions, chapters, and exhaustion; they all remained black and with time they became stronger.

He grew and grew more confined to himself; he wouldn’t see anyone but would sketch it all. His love for sketch raised its volume day in and day out and with it the search for a way towards light. If you give up so easily and curse and crib all the time, than why would you think of being a decorator? An artist knows how to decorate and make it look beautiful, no matter if he have had tears on those tissue papers thinking of someone he painted “IN BLACK’.

Eyeborg- that’s what the mighty master had created for someone who could not differentiate between red and greens. This is an instrument, which is placed on your head with a camera and transforms the light waves in sound waves with a slow move. The computer to, which it is attached, sends sound of each colour to an ear piece, which was now, his INTERPRETER.

Though it would not give him the insight of all that exists but then it was a big step to paint it red, green, blue and some more. That crumple faced uncle might have a shine on his face, the lady with the big nose could afford a mole (not in black though) and the cat might just get the rainbow coloured tail to change her life and show her happiness.

However, to amuse people he went back to his shell (as it seemed) and locked himself down in the room again. The only time he would come out, was for that one specific day he would need a walk down to the road towards the canvas store. A big packet accompanied every time he would get back to his DEN.

Years went by and his beard (unseen by people) grown big on him. One final day, with a mysterious smirk and steps of a dominating persona, he came out and took his close to heart, little sister who was the driving force for his food to be consumed on time in his self sheltered Den and he just stood aside. Next was a flurry of tears and excitement from the girl, who could see the beach side with green trees, the boat house with red curtains, the pregnant woman with a wiry glowing smile and earth with new horizons……

It was music that he could paint now; the interpreter was out for all to see…..