Brush with Destiny

Full Counts
All Words: 1380


"Do you realise what this means?"

"Yeah. And I don't know why you're so damn happy."

"Oh, come on. Don't tell me you'll actually miss this place!"

"I will, so there."

There was a short silence. The two friends looked at each other. It was an odd moment. In all their twelve years of friendship, that is, since Lower-Kindergarten, they had never disagreed -- well, not in such a major way, anyway. Minor skirmishes about whether Daniel Radcliffe was handsomer than Tom Felton weren't counted as disagreements.

But now -- there it was.

Their school, their alma mater ever since they had started their formal education, was about to be torn down. Something about building rules, which had changed since it had been constructed decades previously. The management did not have the money to rebuild, so the students would have to scatter, find other schools. Neepa and Chola had vowed to find an institution that would admit both of them together. It would be easy, theirs was a 'bridge' year, when they either opted to stay on in a school, or moved to a senior-college. So, they could both opt to be fresh recruits somewhere, together.

But Chola was happy to be leaving, and Neepa wasn't.

Because though they had been in the same class throughout, though they were thick pals, their experiences had been very different, in school.

Neepa, being captain of a winning kabbadi team, was popular. Chola, being the class geek, wasn't. It was as simple as that. Nobody appreciates someone who is good with their studies and good at art. Everyone appreciates someone who brings inter-school sports trophies home.

"And I'll make sure my Mom isn't a teacher in my next place, either," Chola exulted. "She won't join a senior college. It'll be so good to have some hours in a day, free from the dragon."

Neepa looked around quickly. Only she knew that Chola called her mother 'the dragon'. If someone were to hear and rat on them ... Neepa shuddered. Mrs. Saraiya was a great chemistry teacher, but she was strict. Strict with the students, strict with Chola at home to the point of being harsh. Chola saw Neepa's eyes dart around, and she gave an easy smile.

"Relax. Only both of us know of this hollow tree. Nobody can see or hear us. Okay, I'm going to tell you why I'm happy. The real reason."

"What's that?" Neepa asked.

"I worked up the guts somehow. I had to. I've been wanting to do this for years. I went and spoke to Miss Darasha."

"You spoke to the Principal by yourself? Does your Mom know?"

"No, the dragon doesn't know. And she wouldn't have approved if she had known. Anyway, listen. Miss Darasha has agreed ..."

"Agreed ...?" Neepa was puzzled.

"Agreed," Chola went on, "to let me paint murals on the school walls. They're going to be torn down in any case, right, once the holidays come. So she says it can't hurt. She's going to get Mrs. Trasey to give me art materials from the school stores, because they won't be needed once school closes down, either."

Neepa looked at her friend. She hadn't seen Chola this happy in a long, long time. Her eyes were shining, her face was glowing and she was almost trembling with excitement. Her excitement was infectious. Neepa reached across and gave her friend a big hug.

*********

As days turned to weeks, Neepa found herself getting more and more caught up in Chola's feverish excitement. Chola was planning her work carefully, going by the size and position of various walls in the school -- the lighting, which subject was taught there, what it had meant to the students ... and planning how many to paint on and what to paint.

"It's hard, keeping all this from the dragon," she confided to Neepa. "She keeps asking what I'm excited about. But I'm not going to tell her till I absolutely have to. I'm having to work on the plans secretly at night, and sometimes during break."

"Mrs. Trasey's helping a lot, isn't she?"

"Yep. She's a sweetheart. She has said she'll personally buy art supplies for me if I run out, and I think Miss Darasha might contribute, too. Both of them know what the dragon is. Both of them want me to be an artist, they're hoping this'll wake her up. Mrs. Trasey said she'd hate to see me wind up in some Chartered Accountant's office, calculating other people's taxes."

"Do you realise, if you become an artist, you might not pay any taxes?" Neepa twinkled.

"I don't care. I don't care if I earn money or not. I just want to paint murals on walls, and now I have the run of a whole, entire building!"

*********

Neepa woke with a start. Her phone was ringing. She grabbed it quickly from her bedside table and checked the time on it before pressing 'answer'. Two minutes past midnight. Chola calling. "Hello?"

Neepa couldn't hear anything for a while, and then she heard her name, spoken in an oddly choked voice. "Neepa?"

"What happened?"

"Mom found the plans. She has taken them away and is threatening to tear them up and burn them. I don't know what to do, I can't make them again before I have to start the actual work. And the dragon's furious. I don't know if I'll get to do this."

"Okay, first," Neepa said, struggling to keep her voice steady. "I have photocopies of most of your plans. I've been sneaking them from you and Mrs. Trasey has been getting them done on the school copier. So that's one problem solved. Now, about your Mom ..."

They fell silent. There was no answer.

"I'm sorry I woke you," Chola whispered, after three minutes of total silence at both ends. "I'll let you go back to sleep now."

"Chola, we'll find a way. You've got to do this," Neepa managed to blurt before the 'call ended' flash came up.

*********

It was surprising how many things in Chola's life could have been described as 'spectacular' from that point on.

The row in the Principal's office, involving Miss Darasha, Mrs. Saraiya, Mrs. Trasey, Neepa and Chola was certainly spectacular. Not even her boss and her colleague could soothe the mother's anger, and not even her mother's anger could dampen Chola's passion for art. Everyone except Neepa had expressed themselves in no uncertain terms ... and nobody was exactly whispering, either. It was a row that would've become legend, had the school lived on. As it was, it was talked about by those who heard it for months, even years.

The mother lost that battle.

So, the preparations were spectacular. Chola couldn't do everything alone, and Mrs. Trasey enlisted the help of all the good artists in the school. They worked weekends and during breaks, and the finale came when, for one entire day, all classes were cancelled while everyone in the school contributed to the finishing touches of 'project mural'.

The response was spectacular.

On the last day of term, every student invited visitors to the school, and every visitor gaped at the marvel that unfolded.

Every corridor had been turned in to an adventure ... Wonderland, Diagon Alley, Narnia, Avonlea, Wonka's factory, Malgudi ... scenes from literature were depicted in overwhelming detail, and were ... yes ... spectacular. Every classroom had abstract murals showing the subject studied, some in fluorescent colours, some in muted pastels. Each one was a masterpiece.

The media coverage was spectacular. TV channels, newspapers, magazines, social media ... went wild with this newly discovered artist.

In the midst of it all, Mrs. Saraiya found a quiet moment to speak to her daughter -- briefly hidden from the glare of attention thanks to a convenient hollow tree.

She handed her daughter something tiny, something that fitted in the palm of her hand. The memory card from her DSLR camera.

"I'm sorry if some of these photographs are blurred," she whispered. "I wanted to get shots of all those reporters near your paintings, I wanted to get the feel of the whole thing ... but you see, it's hard to focus the lens correctly when your eyes are full of tears."

It's not a word usually used in this context, but the hug that mother and daughter exchanged was spectacular.