An Artist’s Dilemma (Prompt 1)

Staring at the complicated diagram on his laptop, Raj tried his best to understand the mundane fundamentals of architecture. He had always thought himself creative. The right side of his brain overshadowed the irrelevant logical left. He had heard about people with eidetic memory. Why couldn’t he have one? Memorizing these bogus procedures and rules had left him numb. Jaya had told him that architecture would suit him. She had said it would really get his creative juices flowing. He could be something. He definitely would be someone great. He had been so blind in love and shockingly idiotic. Without a single iota of hesitation, he had chosen to pursue architecture. Jaya, however, had decided to study medicine and now they hardly ever spoke. Imagining himself sitting on a pile of thick hardbound books, which he had yet to study, he shook his head and tried to focus once again. He knew that time was short. His mind wavered again. He saw an hourglass with the sand grains rapidly rushing to the bottom. He imagined a compass. He better pack that for tomorrow. The compass reminded him of a globe his father kept on his desk. The globe reminded him of the large leafed plant kept on its side. And then he thought of the desk itself. The night turned to morning and Raj left for his exam racking his brains over the diagram he had been studying.

As the years passed, Raj learnt the harsh realities of life. Having failed his first year in architecture and then another, he finally decided to change to a field more suited to his aptitude. And hence he decided to enroll in BCom. B.A would have been nice, if his father had only agreed. Instead when he had gathered the courage to discuss the possibility of doing a B.A, Raj was attacked with flying slippers and whooshing belts, accompanied by some not so amicable words. Three years went by in a whirlwind. In that time, Raj had learned the secrets of the trade from his scheming associates. Now he would never have to worry about failing an exam. No wonder admissions in BCom had touched unknown highs. With a whole lot of time to kill during his graduation, with absolutely no fear of exams, Raj developed some other desirable traits.

He had seemingly known that he was interested in girls. But now he was sure. At least, in this regard, his parents needn’t fret. After months of observing, trying and failing, he had finally succeeded in unearthing the surest way to impress any girl. All of the despairing wanna-be Casanovas trailed him all day long begging him to share his secrets. But, Raj had learnt the value of having a skill. Little did they know that all they needed was a good camera phone. He kept his close to his heart, worried he might lose it or damage it. Whenever he went out with a girl, he would capture her beauty on his phone. They would make faces and criticize the angles. They would tell him how to hold the camera and when to click. They taught him when the surroundings were best to click a picture. Overtime, with tremendous practice, Raj became an expert. Now the girls wanted to go out with him so that he could make them feel congenial and delectable. They would tag him on social media posts, crediting him and thanking him profusely. Rekha, Sushma, Naina, Maya, Uma, Ketaki, Hema, Diya, Isha, Veena and so many more were just dying to go out with Raj. Raj’s social media buzzed with notifications and his phone thrummed with not so subtle requests. Raj traded a kiss sometimes, other times he got laid. He was on top of the world. Nothing, ever, could bring him down.

And then he graduated. For months he applied to companies, hoping he would get a job. He wanted to prove his father wrong. He was not a good-for-nothing. He wasn’t worthless. Somehow though, the companies knew of his dishonest ways, or so he thought. Only if they knew the innovative and cunning ways he had deployed, they would have hired him on the spot. Alas, he couldn’t bring himself to share his deceitful methods with the recruiters! Finally giving up and unsuccessfully battling another one of his father’s ‘What sins did we do to deserve a son like you?’ lectures, Raj loaned an Uber and started his professional career as a taxi driver. He drove at nights to earn more. During the day he kept up with the dandling of his zealous fans, unwilling to disassociate himself completely from his erstwhile perfect life. Not soon after, he bought a DSLR, which attracted even more social media addicts. One such enthusiast asked him to cover her birthday party. From that day onwards, Raj called himself a professional. He would carry his DSLR and a small duffel bag with him, filled with unnecessary cables and empty boxes. His clients didn’t need to know. He had to maintain an image of a specialist.

Months passed by and Raj had successfully built a name for himself as an exceptional photographer. He covered events across his city cashing in on wonderful references. He earned well with his photography career but he still drove the taxi sometimes. Extra income doesn’t hurt. On one hot summer day, he found himself covering a school’s annual event. He was surrounded by huddles of children, teachers and some parents who acted as patrons. Raj didn’t have good memories of his school and it was no wonder he wanted to wrap up as quickly as possible. Dodging the requests from students and teachers for individual clicks, he ushered the class groups to the stage. The lower classes came first, followed by the higher ones. The students were dressed in attires of the vocations they wanted to take up in life, keeping with the theme of the annual day.

Raj’s eyes skimmed through multiple doctors, engineers, police officers, lawyers. Some nurses and architects, along with some future businessmen were thrown in the mix. As he kept on, a dreary thought caught hold of his mind. The more he tried to shake it away, the more it stuck on tighter. The last group was on the stage. One last click and he would be able to abandon this gruesome place. Teachers stood in front of him. They had arranged themselves neatly. The front line consisted of the doctors and the nurses, the society’s caregivers. The second row was formed by police officers and military personnel, the society’s protectors. The penultimate row had lawyers, contractors and architects, the society’s builders. The last row consisted of chefs, pilots and air hostesses and businessmen. 

Raj chuckled at first and then he laughed loudly, unable to control himself. People around him stared at him with concern. Had he gone mad? Raj looked around. He glanced at the future of the world, filled with doctors, lawyers, engineers and policemen. There was no one dressed as a painter. None as a musician or a writer. There were no photographers. Nor surprisingly were there any teachers. Even the teachers had dressed as someone else. With a bright flash of light, he clicked the final picture of the day. The future had been shockingly made clear to him. There was no place for the likes of him. He was perfect where he was, hidden behind the camera, hidden from the world.