My nephew and myself have some amazingly similar qualities which proves to create fire between us. We both have an inclination towards art, we are highly imaginative, colorful, quiet, naughty at times, talkative at times. All these similarities are the reason for the fire and ice effect. All the similarities are ice but when the transfer of words begin then there comes the fire effect. We both have our own ideas which we do not like anyone to change. We just put our foot down with our choice and one word by anyone is a disaster calling. We are stubborn, our idea is the last one that exists and will be followed, however wrong we are, we take risk to be wrong then not trying once. color combination are ours, we don’t take advice of each other, or the other person.
Being a grown up i do appreciate work done by others and i do appreciate him too but he is staunch. He likes everyone appreciating his work but he will take time to look at the other’s work, verify it and then think and nod his head, on asking he says’ hmmm it is good’, that’s it, there is no expression on his face; just that it is good.
We usually have fights on petty things like who will reach faster to his mom, who will have full attention of his mom(my sister), who will finish the biscuits last and who will not speak when the other one wants utter silence in the room. He is a fire sign and i am an air sign and usually i have to keep my weapons away as i want to talk to him and play with him and do those silly kiddie things i can, in short; be a kid with him again.
When we are good we are good but when we are mad then we are too mad. We are never balanced, we have our scales tipping at extremes. Its super fun though. But when it comes to the paper, color and ideas then we are onto ourselves, our worlds, our ideas and our stubborn self. The biggest sufferer of our mood swings, tantrums and complains for each other is his mom who bears us to our extremes and is always found sitting in between us so we don’t end up biting or pulling each other’s hair or yelling or kicking.
You won’t believe, where you see us ending all these, we lie down laughing and telling each other “what fun it was”.
Read this article about Rubik’s cube.
Erno Rubik, a Hungarian sculptor and professor of architecture, came up with the design of the cube in year 1974. He licensed it with the company Ideal Toys in 1980.
This words took me down to the memory lane. I was around 7 when Rubik’s cube was gifted by my uncle.
Very fascinated with multi-color squares, i thought it must be very interesting. He showed how to play and then gave me a chance to solve it. With all the colors now jumbled up i was excited to solve it.
Didn’t have a faint idea for what is coming up.
With all my imagination and patience i started moving the cubes to and fro. There was a smile on my face as i couldn’t set the colors right, thinking i am bit away from solving it.
Minutes turned into half an hour, then an hour and as time went, my smile turned into a frown and then frustration.
My kid sister sat by my side looking at the cube and my face alternatively. It was a second when i held it to be throw away. But a wonderful idea saved it from turning into small pieces of cubes.
In minutes i was removing the same colored stickers and sticking on the same face of the cube. Finished the final version of the cube; same as it arrived and quite contended. Ran up to my uncle and showed him the non-impressive stickers dropping out of the face, the most embarrassing act i was caught for performing.
That was the first and the last time i played it, i would just kick it in a corner every time it jumped out of my toy cupboard.
Today, Rubik’s cube is the most fascinating toy i like to take up any time and any where i see, Start to solve it, end up pulling my hair and keeping it away from my eyes. Still not a cube person it seems.
its time that i start writing again. as a child i did write poetry and was appreciated for my simple language and thoughts but things seem to have changed a lot within me. there are so many thoughts that i get short of words and my mind races faster then my fingers. hope there is again an amalgamation of both and i write for myself as i used to do.
there was a time when i did write and write till my eyes were closed and my pen still wrote. i did write in day light and i did write without light, in the morning on checking the page i would be unable to figure out which set of words create a right sentence.
pen and paper always mesmerized me and i would keep writing writing and writing till it was morning and sleep in fear that my parents would know i am still awake and would scream. i cherish reading those scribbled pages, note books and diaries again and again. still love to bring them out once a year out of those cupboards and read them once.
its time again. i have pulled my fingers and cracked those knuckles and started writing on my laptop to avoid those scribbled flying pages to fill those empty spaces in life that were without words. i would just fill up these pages with my old poems and new posts to cherish in my future again.