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ALL INDIA
ASPIRING WRITER's
AWARD
Kaustubh Rajesh Patil
REGISTRATION ID
B1082
YOUR FINAL SCORE IS IN BETWEEN
9.21 - 9.75
IFHINDIA CONGRATULATE YOU FOR BEING IN THE TOP 10 FINALISTS.
YOUR FINAL SCORE WILL BE ANNOUNCED IN THE AWARD CEREMONY.
1. THE TITLE WINNER SCORE MUST BE MORE THAN 9.70 WHO WILL BE WINNING 1,50,000/- CASH PRIZE & YOU MAY BE ONE OF THEM FOR SURE BECAUSE OUR FINAL WINNER IS IN BETWEEN THOSE TOP 10 FINALISTS INCLUDING YOU.
2. SINCE YOU ARE ONE OF THOSE TOP 10 FINALIST YOU WILL BE GETTING EXCLUSIVE GIFT COUPON WORTH 5000/- EACH
(Note : You must participate either in ONLINE EVENT or OFFLINE EVENT without fail to get your AWARD BENEFITS)
3. ALL TOP 10 FINALIST INCLUDING YOU MUST PARTICIPATE IN THE MEGA EVENT EITHER OFFLINE OR ONLINE BECAUSE EVEN YOU MAY BE THE ONE WHO WIN THE TITLE FOR SURE.
4. INCASE YOU ARE NOT WILLING TO PARTICIPATE IN THE MEGA EVENT/ AWARD CEREMONY EITHER OFFLINE OR ONLINE then your journey in the contest will end here. HOWEVER YOU WILL STILL RECEIVE THE BEST 25 WRITERS BENEFITS but you will not get any benefits for being in the TOP 10 incase you quit from the contest hereafter.
click on the below link to know more information about the FINAL ROUND
Written By
Kaustubh Rajesh Patil
Irony of the Gold Ink
I am a wild dreamer. Or at least, that’s what I think of myself. Ever since I was a child, I was interested in the creative field, though I didn’t exactly know which one.
Just to try things out, I started painting. Not knowing things, I went with the flow and drew something. I won't specify what I was thinking back now; it was a really embarrassing painting.
Moving on, I showed my father that painting, and for some reason he thought I was interested in painting. The next thing I knew, I was enrolled in drawing and painting classes in my neighborhood.
Apparently, I was not as talented as I thought I was. My teacher’s son, for some reason, was so talented that anyone who saw him paint would call him a prodigy. Ever since then, my skills were compared to his. Naive as ever, I went on painting, thinking of it as my passion, but that didn’t last long.
Soon I started becoming envious of him and how he was loved whatsoever. Approval to his request was a guarantee, whereas I didn’t dare to ask anything of my parents. There is a reason behind that as well.
I don’t remember the exact situation, but there was a time when my parents were short on money. One of the reasons behind it was my drawing. I didn’t know at that time, but the art material is a costly one, especially when not used carefully, which clearly I didn’t care about.
I would pour huge amounts of paint in the palette and use only a minimal amount, wasting a majority of it. Ever since my parents had that conversation, I started using it carefully that ever. The reason behind it was not money. It was because I heard my mother explaining to my father how I waste paint and spend all day painting when I should study. She even suggested stopping my painting class.
Clearly, I didn’t want that to happen, so I started holding myself back on using paint on the drawings. I would borrow paint from other kids even when I had mine in my bag.
This continued for a while, until another kid discovered a set of new paints in my bag when I borrowed colors from him, telling him I forgot mine. Ever since then, I became a public enemy, and not so long after that, no one talked to me. I myself stopped attending the class and even stopped painting.
I had grown to hate paint by the time I was in middle school. In that grade, drawing and painting was a compulsory subject. By that time, I had started hating studies as well and had become a back bencher.
But everything changed one day. There was nothing out of the ordinary; it was drawing and painting lecture and I was cracking jokes with my friends while sitting on the last bench. I always did that and gave the excuse of forgetting to bring my book.
This time, the teacher scolded me and made me sit on the second bench, besides a girl. She was so engrossed in painting that she didn’t even notice me. She dipped a brush in the blue ink and traced around the pencil sketch on the book. Her hands trembled, making the stroke uneven. I was about to question her ‘why bother painting’ but decided otherwise.
I turned around to see my friends, who were scattered throughout the classroom, and unknowingly I spilled the ink on her painting. She glared at me angrily while cursing at me. I don’t know what she said, but she mumbled something around, “If it wasn’t enough to not learn, he’s now being a hindrance to those who want to learn, great!”
That statement pissed me off so much that, in the spur of the moment, I picked the brush while pulling the drawing book and started painting on it. She tried to pull the book, but after some time she gave up. After about a while, I threw the book and brush at her, and that caught the teacher's eye.
The teacher grabbed the book and gently put it on the table while telling how good the drawing is while scolding me for trying to ruin it. She had me stand out for the rest of the class.
The next drawing lecture, the girl came to me, asking to help her draw, but I laughed it off and returned to cracking jokes with my friends. The next lecture again, she came, and it continued every lecture. Every time I sent her off.
At one point, my friends asked if I really painted that well when that girl came asking for help. That day, I confronted her in recess and told her not to show her face around me. To that she replied, “Why not actively participate and help others draw if you are so good at it?”
I couldn’t explain her, or rather, I myself didn’t know, so I pushed her and went my way. The next lecture, she didn’t come around asking for help. I was glad at that moment, but I found myself looking for her. I don’t know what changed, but at that time I felt as if I would help her if she asked me, but she didn’t come.
She didn’t come the next lecture either. I decided to confront her again, but she didn’t reply this time and went around painting. I picked up a brush lying there and started painting around the side of the page. She pushed me away and said, “I am going to paint gold there.”
While imagining what the painting would look like, I said, “Gold won't fit there. Continue painting red all over and draw inscriptions all over it with gold.”
To that, she put her bush down and looked at me. I continued painting with red and then added inscriptions with gold.
I looked at her, but she didn’t say a word. It looked alright to me, but it would have been a whole lot better if that teacher’s son would have painted it.
“Teach me how to paint,” she demanded out of nowhere. I looked at her out of confusion, to which she continued, “In return, I will help you study.”
Ever since then, I started studying and, in fact, painting too. I didn’t stop giving the excuse of forgetting to bring the book, nor did anyone know I could paint. I would paint on her book all the time, and that was it.
We became quite good friends, and I started scoring quite well in fact. It was around my birthday when she asked what I would like for a gift. Getting a gift for a birthday from a friend was for the first time. Being not fond of anything, I told her to give whatever she felt like giving.
She gifted me a bottle of gold ink. She said it was the golden inscription I made, which marked the start of our friendship.
It's been 7 years since then, and not much has changed except for her pursuing art and me pursuing engineering. We have lost contact, but the bottle of gold ink is still on the study table. I have used it for calligraphy, and yet it still has ink in it, reminding me of how stingy I am.
Even now, I have not found what I want to become. At least I know I don’t want to become an artist. Over the time, I have learned to lie as well. I have become quite prominent in it. I will give you an example of it—this whole writing.
Quite funny, right? To think all of this was just a lie. Don’t believe me? Well, its not like its anyone’s loss... but this truly is a lie. I have never gotten a gift or had such a friendship with a girl. All I had was a desire to live this kind of life.
You may ask, “Why?” Well... I don’t know. Maybe this is not a lie and is partly true; stop asking me questions, or I might as well push you like I pushed her when she asked me questions.
Well, if you are wondering why I chose the golden color, I may have an answer for that. The day that girl gave me the gift of an ink bottle, she said she had another reason. She said she imagines that the fragments of memories are like a drop of gold, precious and scarce. Treasuring them is all one is capable of, as once gone, they will never return. But fret not, as their memories will always be with us.
Quite an irony for a girl of imagination with no memory to talk about memory while being an irreplaceable memory for me. Truly hilarious. Well, that’s not the only irony. To tell you the truth, I am not a dreamer, especially not a wild one. All I can do is see, and in fact, all I have written is what I have seen. Now, it's up to you what to believe and what not to believe, what is a lie and what is not, what is true and what is not.
PLEASE CHECK YOUR PHOTO
Kaustubh Rajesh Patil
ABOVE SHARED PHOTOGRAPH WILL BE USED IN THE CERTIFICATE AND DONT WORRY IF THE ALLIGNMENT IS NOT CORRECT. IT WILL BE CORRECTED DURING CERTIFICATE DESIGN.
ALSO THE NAME MENTIONED BELOW THE PHOTOGRAPH WILL BE WRITTEN ON CERTIFICATE.
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