“Look!” Omar’s voice reverberates in the kitchen and, most probably, is heard within the radius of thirty miles.
He has experienced a eureka moment:Two bananas that sleep cozily inside a single peel.
“They are twins. They are born together,” I tell Omar, and then decide to create a visual experience.
And if you are standing in a kitchen, there is no dearth of possibilities to stoke your creativity. My sculpting skills need just two black peppers for those deep dark eyes, a clove for a roman nose, and a bit of tomato peel for those rosy lips.
I am happy with my artwork. I feel so creative; and Omar is impressed.
“Aren’t they cute” I ask Omar.
“Yes, let’s keep them for ever,” he enthuses.
“We can’t, they will rot. Everything in this world is transitory, even banana twins.”
After all these years, Omar has learned to ignore my meaningless digressions. And he focuses on what matters: twins
“Do I have a twin too?” he asks.
“No, you don’t. But in all probability you have a twin soul, but twin souls are, generally speaking, elusive. And sometimes…” here I stop as Omar starts giving me here-she-goes-again look.
“And if I had a twin, would he have been exactly like me?”
“There’s a possibility that he or she would have looked like you, but no one in the world, not even a twin, can be exactly like you. The way you think, the way you feel, the way you experience things is unique. There is just one you.”
I don’t know how much of my eloquent sermon on individual uniqueness makes sense to Omar but this seems to make him happy.
He again looks at the banana twins and marvels at my ‘sculpture’, “You are such a good artist,” he declares and runs to invite everyone to have a look at my ‘masterpiece.’
I am an artist. This is my eureka moment. So happy.