Painting My Sports Idol

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Painting My Sports Idol
(Photo by Phil Walter/Getty Images)

There was a day in my life when I existed. But the strange part is I don’t know where I was. I can’t even describe it properly; it seems so long ago. The whole area seemed very similar to a dream, but I know it wasn’t. It just couldn’t be that for some reason I do not remember.

The only thing I am sure of is that the world was timeless. I know that, because this fact provided me with a certain amount of calmness. It put me in a state where I lived without any pressure. I think that’s why it seems so long a time since I was there.

But I did not care where I was. It was something much more important I cared about. What was I there for?

Was God just giving me some time off from life? I doubt it. Why would he do that when he knows I do not even respect his rituals so often? I am sure he has a grudge against me.

But then, why was I there? The question was bothering me a lot.

Suddenly, I came across some letters glowing and saying IDOLS TO BE FOUND.

I read the board about ten times and still could not make complete sense of how that was going to happen. How was I going to find an idol for myself in a place which did not make sense itself? 

I just sat down for a few minutes, trying to deal with the new pressure put on me in a world that relieved me of all other pressures. It was a strange place with no one else and I was asked to find an idol.

But right then, some new letters were glowing. PAINT HIM. A small note was given at the end of this message “He is into sports”

First of all, I read it as something very male chauvinist. Paint him. But there was also a lot of help by the fact that, that he was from sports.

In any case, I started on my job. But first I had to find some brushes and acrylics and also a canvas to paint on. I turned around and found them.

Whoever made this place was ready with all the requirements. I didn’t know why he brought me here, and hated the person for not telling me that, but I still admired his style of keeping everything ready.

He made sure I did not have excuses to make, simply because I could not find something.

So I started painting. But wait, I did not know whom to paint? I never bothered forming idols or ideals. I always thought of them as a waste of time and now I was stuck because of that.

Shall it be Mr. Roger Federer or Rafael Nadal. Two champion tennis players of today’s’ era. Both of them I admire. They both have unique styles. The both have worked hard to reach where they are.

But so has Michael Schumacher. And whenever he rides he makes things look brilliant. But Lewis Hamilton is today’s guy, and I think highly of him, too.

I thought for some time, but it didn’t take me too long. It had to be Rahul Dravid, my favorite cricketer. A true Idol.

He always maintained his dignity, took criticism in the right spirit and, well, was a champion player.

I really want to be like him. After all, most people want to be like their Ideal person.

So I finally started painting.

I coloured the whole canvas with a dark shade of red. It looked beautiful. Very pure. I did not want to spoil it. I knew with the poor painting skills I have, my idol would look like a cartoon. That’s not why I was there.

But in any case I tried to act like a professional painter, and started on what seemed like quite an impossible task.

Try. A few fine strokes here and a few deeper strokes there and you are done.

I could feel the skill of a veteran at this job, I was enjoying it too, but somehow my feelings were not shared by the canvas in front. It looked awful. Least like Dravid and most like some cartoon with no shape or size. Just as expected.  But it still hurt.

I could not bear looking at it. I tore it apart and started on a new canvas.

This time I closed my eyes and painted. I thought my inner eye would do a better job.

Again those fine strokes here and those deep strokes there. I felt the peach colour of the skin I had painted. It felt so nice. The energy and expectations again rising inside me. So nice. So nice.

But the rise of that energy and expectation were more like the rise of a volcano which bursts and scatters lava everywhere.

Scattered lava, which was exactly what the painting looked like. And the red lava was mixed with the peach colour, which felt so nice with the eyes closed, but looked awful now. Green and black were also a part of the mixture.

I know it was the turn of anger to rise. I destroyed everything. I started to scream. I felt as if my heat had made my brain boil.

To hell with the painting. I want to get back to my old life and live it.

But I did not know how to escape. I just had to sit and wait for some door to open and let me out.

I don’t know how long I was there for, but it was long. My patience was being tested and I wasn’t anywhere close to the calm I had felt in the beginning.

I started to scream again. I wanted to destroy the world. But the world could be created again. So I had to take a stronger revenge?

I picked up a new canvas and closed my eyes again. But this time all I was going to do was just let the paint brush fly anywhere. Make something as ugly as possible. Make a mockery of the person who wanted me to paint my idol.

I was also sure that my idol would not approve of it if he knew. But that was not my problem. I did not care. I had no idol; just me and my anger.

I did exactly what I thought. Let the brush fly. No control; just ugliness.

My anger was fueling me to do this act. And even when I wanted to stop, it kept on making me go.

But finally it had to die down. And when it did, I felt a lot better. Calmness returned. Peace followed.

I opened my eyes again. But what I saw really stunned me.

I felt as if I was standing in front of a mirror. It was me smiling. I had painted myself!

How can I be my Ideal person? I destroy things. How can it be me?

I look for other people all around the world and it turns out to be me?

I was sure the person who owns this place was now mocking me. I can’t be my idol. I just can’t.

I was scared. I was imagining ghosts.

I was happy without any person to look up too. I want to return to my old world and just want to return.

But things just got spookier. Some heavenly voice started speaking. I was sweating like anything.

YOU ARE THE ONE WHO FINDS YOURSELF THE IDOL. IF IT WEREN’T FOR YOU, THEN YOU WOULD NOT BE HERE. YOU ARE THE ONE WHO IS ACTUALLY INTO SPORTS. WHAT IS THE POINT OF SOMEONE ELSE TO LOOK UP TO IF YOU CANT THINK OF YOURSELF AS A PERSON CAPABLE OF LOOKING UP TO?

YOU ARE YOUR IDOL AND THEN YOU HAVE OTHER PEOPLE. BE YOU AND LIVE WITH PEACE. BECAUSE IF IT WEREN' FOR YOU, THEN NO ONE WOULD HAVE BEEN AN IDOL.

I woke up from my dream.

Looked at few posters from Sports star magazine on the wall opposite my bed. I removed them carefully and put them a bit lower.  The I brought a small mirror and put it up.

 

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