A small Painting Plays An Important Part | Story

A small Painting Plays An Important Part

A small Painting Plays An Important Part

‘Maliya, you would have to discern one day that you cannot always pursue your passions. Only rich people can. I do not want your father to be upset by your behavior. ‘Fatima grumbled. Maliya’s salty cheeks and glistening eyes gave away how dismayed she was. She picked up her tattered shawl, a few oil paints, and a crumpled sheet of paper and left the shack with expressions of disgust on her face. 

The suburb in Peshawar where she lived was a slum area. She walked past the busy streets, where Pushtoon men hurled abuses at each other, the cloth market, a shattered house’s rubble that had not been taken care of since the last earthquake, and finally, the place where she found tranquillity. 

The public library. Her favored place to spend time unchaperoned and capture nature with the strokes of her brush. The building had a garden all around it with benches at alternate distances, dandelions fencing the boundaries, and a fragrant breeze in the air. The view was serene comprising extraordinarily colorful birds that she began to paint on her crumpled sheet. 

It was early forenoon so the place was deserted besides her and another person. He was a rather slender man wearing an oversized coat and having a cunning look on his face. Maliya, engrossed in her painting, did not notice him until she began to sketch the tiled wall that provided entrance to the building. Wanting to give the picture a more authentic effect, she drew a picture of the tall man in one comer of her sheet. Later though, she thought that he had a suspicious look about him. It had been long and he had not moved a muscle. Also, who wears a coat in this hot weather? 

After completing her painting, Maliya returned to her shack through the same route, put away her paints, and went to visit her mother at the house where she worked as a housemaid. Her other hobby was watching television and she relished spending time with the other children. Sadly, the television was occupied by Uncle Hanif watching the news. 

Then came the turning point of her life. The moment that invested the most into her dreams. ‘Original issues of invaluable historical books stolen from Mehnaz Public Library?” This was inevitable. The security there is no good!’ Uncle Hanif exclaimed. Maliya knew what to do. She went home to pick her painting and sprinted to the library as fast as her tiny feet allowed. 

When she was rushing towards the people to tell about the occurrence meanwhile police Officer stopped her and asked about the matter. ‘Officer! I know who did this. I saw the man.’ She, being only an eleven-year-old, was not considered by the officer until she showed him the figure. He went through the CCTV footage and spotted the man, now assuming that the books were hidden under his coat. ‘You performed a great act today young lacy, we would like to express appreciation by rewarding you with admission at The Art School!’ 

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