Decades passed by and I continued to accumulate a heap of creative art in all forms. How could they lie, uncaring and unloved, I am sure they missed me to express till I thought the old unclean sketches, half done water colours must stay close to me. They have been an integral part of my existence. They carry moments, memories, people, love, sorrow and so much more.

But these productions were never easy as there were these naughty kids. They were born to disobey, to be mischievous.

Everytime I would pick up a brush on hand, kid in the mind would say mix that tone and kid in my eyes would say mix another tone.

The man’s face on the white coated linen would require a fresh pink with a touch of Yellow Ochre, eyes would say mix a bit of Burnt Sienna to get the particular tone, my arm would then be pally with eyes and mislead me to another tone which would eventually be darker than required.

And Mind would get upset that I listened to other two. For years, as soon as the cover of that canvas or the fresh White page was unveiled, these kids would come running. Hey’ you, we wanna paint..

Years together these kids kept me engaged with the mood of producing creative art.