The winning skill

She retrieved the end of the pallu which was dangling freely from her shoulder and tied it across her waist. She wiped off a couple of beads of sweat from her brow and bent down to pick up the steel bucket of wet clothes.

She took a giant step to avoid the broken wooden ridge at the entrance of the hut which was erected last year to hold back the incessant rain water from seeping in. She thought to herself this needed to be repaired before the monsoons arrive.

She jhatkaofied each cloth with force before hanging it to dry on a nylon rope which was tied across the length of the compound wall. The spray of droplets against her face soothed her in this balmy weather. A ray of sunlight emanated through the branches of a huge banyan tree outside her house and fell on her face, like a spotlight. She turned to look at the source with a cupped palm against her forehead and one twitched eye. It was noon, her son would be home anytime. She quickly completed her chore and entered the hut to attend to the next one.

Sarvesh came home frolicking with a thin bicycle tyre which was borrowed from the repair shop at the crossroads. He propelled it into motion with a push and sustained it by tapping it with a wooden twig at regular intervals. The tyre moved in circles in the tiny courtyard and the sounds of his mirth reverberated. His mom cajoled him to have lunch.

He held the tyre between his legs to stop its motion and subconsciously flipped it into the air by pushing it upwards with the help of his toes. The tyre made an entire 360 degree flip and landed in front of him. A gasp from his mother at the entrance of the hut made him take notice. He turned and smiled at her. She nudged him to come inside. He washed his hands and feet with a mug of water and entered the hut.

While helping himself to the simple meal of roti, half a piece of onion and some pickle, he narrated the chain of events that occurred at school today. His mom sat by his side, admiring him as he detailed out the events.

“Masterji told us that there will be a photography contest” he told her. 

“We can click anything that interests us, there is no topic as such. The best photo will be selected by Masterji and displayed on the Notice board.” he mentioned with beaming eyes.

She understood none of this but returned a faint smile and went to the chulla to hand mould another roti for him. The boy returned to his meal with dreams of winning this contest floating in his mind.

The next day, he picked up his mom’s phone with a motive - to click pictures. He unlocked it and pointed its camera to the banyan tree. 

“No disk space available” flashed a message on the screen. He sighed and checked the phone settings. It was a very old phone with a qwerty keypad, tiny screen and 2MP camera - nothing close to the smartphones his friends donned. He sulked for a while, allowing the disappointment to set in. There’s no way he is winning this competition, he reassured himself.

Although, he spent the entire day cajoling his friends to lend their smartphones to him for a while. They told him,“we may lend a kidney if required but not our phones.” He continued to click with whatever little disk space that was available on his mom’s phone with frequent deletion of pictures which did not make him happy. This endeavour continued over the next couple of days.

This was the hot topic of discussion at recess time everyday. A bunch of kids would huddle outside the classroom appreciating or criticising each others work.They would share their smartphones amongst themselves in a rotating fashion. Sarvesh would be stationed somewhere at the end of the playground opposite to them, eyeing them with envy and disappointment. He wondered why his mother could not afford a smartphone and sulked. Out of them, Raghu was touted to be the one who had a good knack for photography. His art of framing photos was well appreciated by Masterji during various functions at school. He often volunteered to click photos and was invariably considered as the official photographer of the school and needless to mention, one of the probable contenders for winning the contest as well.

Sarvesh continued to struggle with his clicks. Someone told him to focus on the Rule of thirds - which means the subject should be placed at any of the intersecting points when you imagine two horizontal and vertical lines in your frame. His dog Bholu was his muse.

He photographed him while sleeping, eating or playing with him. He even recreated the type flip infront of him several times. Bholu jumped playfully to catch the tyre with his mouth each time.

He heard someone call out to him. He looked at the entrance to see Raghu stationed at the gate. He wondered what was he doing there at this point of time, it was sunset already. He walked up to the gate and meted out a Hi-Fi to him.

Raghu mentioned that Masterji has sent an urgent message to all his students to come in a bit early to school tomorrow in lieu of the competition results that will be announced and event preparations that need to be done. Sarvesh nodded and returned to Bholu. 

It was dark by now. His mother lit a kerosene lamp at the entrance of the hut. He relished his meal, picked up his pillow and ran to the chaarpai in his courtyard. Bholu tagged along. As he lay on the bed under the dark sky lit with a conundrum of bright stars, he saw a couple of fireflies circle around. With a smile on his face he thought “this is a sign” and drifted off to sleep.

He woke up to the cries of the rooster next morning, realising he was late for school. He got ready in a frenzy and ran towards his school not paying heed to his mother’s cries of finishing his glass of milk. He reached the school a couple of minutes later, his shirt half untucked and shoe laces untied. The event was already over and Masterji had announced the winner.

How could you miss this? he cursed himself and walked the hall of shame to join the assembly. Suddenly, Masterji made an announcement “Here he comes, a round applause please”

The audience burst into a round of claps. 

It was confusing for Sarvesh. What on earth was happening? He looked at the stage to see Raghu with a beaming smile. He waved at him playfully. 

If Raghu was already on stage, why were the others clapping for me? He wondered.

Aah, must be one of Masterji’s ways to ridicule me for entering so late, he smirked and picked up his bag to return to his class. As he walked to his class, he crossed the notice board. He glanced at it from a distance and noticed a photograph on display. He walked closer for a better look. Masterji saw the gasp on his face against the reflection of the glass on the noticeboard and reached out to place a hand on his shoulder.

“How is this possible?” Sarvesh yelped.

“Because you deserve it! It is all your skill” Masterji replied.

He turned to hug Masterji, a couple of tears dropped from his eyes. Masterji stroked his hair with affection. He let himself loose from his grip and made a dash to the playground where Raghu was chatting with his friends.

“Thank you!” he told him.

“You’re Welcome” replied Raghu and handed him a printed copy of a photograph with the Rule of thirds in action - Bholu placed at one intersection and Sarvesh on the other with a flipped tyre above him and both playfully suspended mid-air.