BEAUTIFULLY DIFFERENT, DIFFERENTLY BEAUTIFUL

Ashrita was drawing the woman seated in the front row who was looking outside the window pointing at the rain falling to her two daughters . One looked around 8 and the other around 3. The younger one was giggling which made her sister and mother happy . The three of them were admiring how beautiful the rain was. 

The bus moved and splashed water on the passers-by . 

Ashrita loved rain . The smell , the sight , everything was so pleasing about it . She loved getting wet; mud covering her feet . The slanting raindrops hit the earth’s surface and collectively made a loud exciting sound . 

The pencil in her hand was moving ceaselessly. She sketched the mother along with her two daughters . Paintings were differently beautiful .Each stroke added an expression ; the baby’s adorable smile; the mother’s caring love filled eyes and the elder sister’s cute dimples ; everything was focused . 

She looked outside the window. The bus has came to a halt at a red signal. There was a woman sitting on the street relentlessly making an effort to make a temporary shed out of broken tin and sticks for her two small children. They were homeless; shelterless. While the mother was worried about saving her children, the two tiny kids were busy enjoying the rain . One of them was a baby who could barely walk and the other a little older. Both of them looked up at the sky: their large curious eyes wondering where the rain fell from . Ashrita smiled but was sad deep inside . There was too much sadness in the world to be happy . 

She drew a lady on her blank paper – a mother. On one side she drew two children with proper clothes and a shed above them . They looked healthy; healthy like a child should be. On the other side she drew the same pair of children , this time wearing torn , dirty clothes, pale and unhealthy, unguarded from natural calamities. 

She looked up when there was a click and a flash . 

She looked behind. There was a girl of her age with a camera in her hand.

Confusingly and a bit timidly she looked at a Ashrita.  

“Sorry if you want...... I’ll delete it . I just....ummm....... I was taking pictures “, said the girl looking unsure and showing the photo do Ashrita. 

It was beautiful . Beautifully different . There was Ashrita, her hands busy with her painting , there were the two sets of mother and children-one on the bus, the other on the footpath—all in one frame . It was so beautiful.

Ashrita thought there wouldn’t be much problem out of the photo so she said “Let it be . It’s so wonderful. I love it.”

 Hearing this the girl’s tensed eyebrows calmed down . 

“But could you send me a copy of it ?”asked Ashrita. 

“Oh sure” ,said the other girl while taking a seat closer to Ashrita's.

They exchanged emails and Ashrita got praises for her sketching. Thanking her she added a girl with the camera in her drawing.

The other girl smiled. She was Jiya . 

The next stop was Dhakuria Lake and both of them got off while looking and smiling at each other , silently indicating “ Oh so we have the same stoppage”. 

They rushed towards the bus stand and took out their umbrellas.

“So I am going to take pictures in the lake, You??” Jiya asked.

“Me too, I came to sketch", smiled Ashrita and both walked towards the main gate. 

The Dhakuria Lake was a beautiful place. Columns and columns of trees and rain poured in between the gaps.

Jiya and Ashrita were walking o the cemented sidewalk. There was a group of teenagers on the other side of the Lake , sitting under a shed. One of them was playing a guitar while the others were humming to the beat. There were boats on the side of the Lake. 

The rainwater was falling on the lake water. Thousands of them fell together creating rings on the water surface and gradually expanding. 

Click and flash. Jiya captured the droplets. She also took pictures of a story dog shedding water of it’s body.

They both walked till they reached the Durga Ma statue and went to the tea stall.

“ chai is a must . That too on a rainy day” , said Ashrita. 

Both were having milk tea in mud pots under the huge multi-coloured umbrella that the tea seller had set up.

Click, click, click. Jiya took a lot of pictures there—the tea in the mud pot; the chaiwalla ;a close up of tea being poured from the kettle and of Ashrita sipping tea.

“ So college huh?” asked Ashrita while they walked upto the nearest seat and sat down.

“ Yeah first year Accountancy. You??” , said Jiya whole setting down her camera carefully on the table.

“ First year Comparative Literature” replied Ashrita. 

“ Ok—kay”, said Jiya and both sat in silence for a while , quietly hearing the sound of rain.

Jiya looked up at the sky and said, “ The rain is so beautiful. I wish everyday of my life was as beautiful as the rain. Calm yet powerful. It has it’s own pace , own timing, own rhythm. It won’t listen to anyone. Not affected by criticisms, not affected by cheers , rain just “ rains”. It is itself. We should be like the rain. Not affected by society, neither saddened by criticism nor excited by cheers . Just happy and content with ourselves.” 

Her eyes were focused on the water droplet balanced on a leaf.

Drip—the drop fell down.

Jiya looked at Ashrita . Ashrita had been listening carefully to what Jiya has said.

“You see that tiny droplet fell down and got mixed with others. It lost it’s identity. That is what happens to us. We are born different . But we try to “fit in” the society , gradually losing our identity”, Jiya continued .

“ Yeah I know. It’s sad. But still we can be ourselves. I mean we are “ourselves” you see . I paint, you click photos. Even if we have taken different subjects as our career path in the hope of getting a stable job and in the fear of not getting one, at the end of the day we are still ourselves. We still return back to our source of happiness. Maybe we should embrace what we have and not be sad about what we don’t” , Ashrita said smilingly, looking at Jiya.

Jiya too was smiling, “ Nice way of thinking. Yeah .........the droplet which got mixed with the others is going to evaporate and soon come down again as a separate droplet. It continues”.

Ashrita patted Jiya's shoulders and said ,“ Huh—hmmm .... that is the thing. We are always on a cycle, constantly changing our outer looks but deep down remaining the same. If we look closely we can be happy about a lot of things, the smallest things. Each of us is unique, each of us is beautifully different, differently beautiful”.