The Magic of Colors
Kazi Falguni Eshita
My sweet princess, please write, or else teacher will say you’re a bad girl. But you’re a good girl, right? RamizaAfroz squeezed her daughter’s cheeks.
“Mommy, please, I don’t want to write.” Five-year-old Mehjabin pleaded. She loved her books, used to memorize nursery rhymes with great enthusiasm. But she did not enjoy writing at all.
“I’ll give you a chocolate if you write.” Ramiza tried one more time.
“No, Mommy!” Mehjabin ran off, creating a sweet, rhythmic sound with her thick, silver anklets.
In all the oral subjects like recitation or rapid- fire class tests, Mehjabin always took a position amongst the first ten. However, she was very slow while writing. Her pencil used to sleep in her hand, while her classmates used to play writing races amongst themselves.
When the little girl used to work in her art classes very attentively, a bit of her tongue used to peep out of her mouth. All the teachers watched in awe as she filled her drawing book with fine, colorful pictures.
“Your daughter will surely be an artist.” The class teacher used to tell her mother.
Ramiza always felt pleased when other parents or teachers used to praise her daughter. Mehjabin used to pass her exams with flying colors, but her writing performance always kept her away from the first position in class.
“Mom, I want to be first in class, like my friend Shama, but I always get the second place.” Mehjabin told her mother one day. Her wet eyes and tear-stained face was enough to understand that she was quite upset.
“How will I help my daughter, Ma’am?” Ramiza asked Mehjabin’s class teacher at the parent’s-teacher’s meeting. The teacher advised to encourage the little girl to write with color pencils, as she was so attracted to colors. The teacher hoped it might work out.
A smile spread across Ramiza’s concerned face. “Why didn’t I think of this before?” She said to herself.
Rushing to the mall, Ramiza piled up a heap of color pencils in her shopping-cart.
“Your Miss (teacher) told you to practice writing with these.” The mother announced, placing the colors in front of her daughter.
“Really?” Mehjabin’s innocent eyes reflected joy.
That night, Ramiza found her little girl glued to the desk, busily writing with the colors. Mehjabin slowly began writing with normal graphite pencils. From then on, she never lost the first position. The Magic of colors really worked for her.