The tale of an aspiring artist

 This article is dedicated to a very special person I had the privilege of treating for around two weeks. He was a skinny young man in his early twenties, and arrived at our department on a wheelchair.

Despite his condition, this man was one of the most positive and entertaining individuals I've ever come across. For the sake of simplicity, let's call him S. Now for a bit of backstory about S, he hails from a small village in Assam and is an aspiring fashion designer.

The lack of funds for his higher education forced him to look for a part-time occupation, which led him to take a keen interest in the make-up and beauty industry. Soon S realized that he had a talent for using the knowledge of color theory in applying make-up, and started gathering a small clientele for himself.

Tragedy struck with the advent of COVID-19, and along with many others, S was also a victim of its atrocities. Within time, he was rendered paraplegic and wheelchair-bound, with no possibility of going back to work again. 

Looking at the brighter side of things though, he knew that his hand functions were intact, along with his creativity and zeal to get back to normalcy. He also had the support of his mother and a few close friends who were more than happy to help him every step of the way. 

After getting the necessary medical interventions, S decided to go back to his hometown to live with his mother, his only family. He was only too aware of his financial situation and decided to take matters into his own hands to generate an income. He knew how to mold clay into beautiful shapes from an early age and combining that with his recently honed artistry skills, he came up with the idea of composing elaborate and stunning idols of Hindu gods and goddesses. 

(Not his creation but very similar to it)

He would create masterpieces on commission and run his household expenses through it. Mixing and activating the clay, sculpting it, stacking segments of the idol on top to make a 6 feet tall diety in all its glory, painting it with vibrant colors to enhance its features... he did it all while not being able to use half his body. Of course, his friends and his little pet were there to support and encourage him too. 

I was unaware of his story when he first came for therapy. Happy about the potential he showed for improvement, I put him to work right away. "Chalo, 50 push-ups poore josh mey!" (C'mon, 50 push-ups with everything you've got!), was one of the first things I told him. He grimaced and said, "Madam aap hume marwanae wale ho" (Madam you're going to get me dead)

We had a lot of fun and banter over the next few days, with me pushing him to do better and him teasing me for being such a commander. And that is how I learned more about him and his capabilities. 

One of my first questions to him was, "Why can't you go back to becoming a make-up artist again? After all, they have got to sit and apply make-up, and that is so much easier than molding and painting large clay idols." He then proceeded to educate me on all the postural and technical difficulties a male MUA faced while doing their job in a wheelchair. The more you know!

I wasn't entirely convinced though, since he wasn't previously trained to use a good wheelchair. And there are tons of places in metropolitan cities that are wheelchair accessible in today's day and age. An artist like him could easily feature as a poster kid because no brand would waste an opportunity to capitalize on advertising that they are generating employment for disabled individuals. It sounds heartless, but it's true. At any rate, it could be utilized as a fantastic opportunity for S, and I wasn't about to let it go to waste.

Over the next week, I planned to have make-up simulation sessions for him along with regular therapy. Little was I prepared for the amount of sass this man would throw at me for my paltry collection of make-up products. "How can you not have setting powder!?", he would gasp, acting like I committed some war crime.

"No eyeshadow either... you expect me to make a smokey eye with just kajal or what?", he rolled his eyes. 

"Make do with what you have, you're creative", I said, nearly tearing up as I tried to hold my laugh back. 

He sighed and got to work immediately, applying a base and matching the foundation shade to the model's skin tone. It took him nearly two hours to feel fully satisfied with his work, but it was worth it. We learned what position was best for applying make-up, how much space he needed to propel around, how many times he had to do a push-up for pressure relief, how it affected his overall time to complete the final look, and a lot more. 

This was a very new and satisfying experience for everyone. My colleague got a new look, my patient got to do what he was passionate about and I was able to execute something new and learn more. On the last day of therapy, we had a final discussion on his vocational options. He said he was dependent on his friends, but he was confident about his future and only looked forward to it.

He may not have read books of philosophy, but his outlook on life is more impressionable than any scholar's in my opinion, and has stayed with me forever.

He's currently undergoing long-term rehabilitation in another branch of our institute, I heard he's doing quite well. I wish the best for him.