My mother drew beautifully.

I grew up watching the ease with which she used pencil or pen or watercolours to make everything around her a little brighter.

On my part, I was as clumsy as can be: utterly unable to paint within the borders and drawing gigantic heads with tiny limbs. My handwriting has been a disaster ever since I can remember.

And then, one day in August 2012, I woke up feeling a sudden (and surprising) urge to draw. It was the strangest thing.

I am very fickle when it comes to artistic pursuits, so I didn’t think much of my own impulse. But I did buy a sketchbook, mechanical pencil & ‘how to’ guide on that same morning.

A full half hour was spent on one eye alone. And it was the most mentally relaxing half hour I had had in ages.

Two years have passed and sketching has become the closest thing to meditation. I don’t do it daily and I do get lazy from time to time. But I’m feeling a little braver with the pencil & it still helps me to clear my head.

The handwriting is still a disaster, though.


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