One thing that I value the most
Doodles formed a large part of my childhood. Whether it was doodling in my notebook or my friends’ textbooks, this was one thing that kept me awake in class. Since I studied science (physics and chemistry) in 12th grade, two subjects that I genuinely disliked, maintaining concentration was truly a feat. Usually the drone of the teacher’s voice rang in my ears as she explained strange concepts about perhaps optical diffraction, in a monotonous voice. And then there was the consistent scratching of pens on paper and the clicking of chalk on the chalkboard that more often than not led my mind to wander off. I found myself doodling on the last pages of my worn-out notebook.
And when the last page of my notebooks started to run out of space, I pulled in the notebooks of my friend, usually the one who was unfortunate enough to be sitting next to me that day and drew in that instead. Lines turned into images and images turned into stories. My drawings were pretty strange and had no relation to each other. They were just whimsical little scribbles that were meant to make people laugh. Amusing little drawings of giant headed babies with sparkling eyes, sunglass clad mafia men with cigars in their mouths, pretty faces of women with intricately doodled hair were some of my favorites. Sometimes I was slightly scared that what if my teachers chose to turn all the way to the end and saw my little array of doodles. That could mean that I might get into a little trouble. But obviously, that didn’t stop me drawing of course. And soon all my friends had beautiful last pages, like mine, full of drawings that had no connections to each other but at the same time told a story.
