Lighting up the dots and lines

The rangoli contest was a lesson in seeing beyond the surface.

‘You see, but you do not observe.’ This famous quote by Sherlock Holmes in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s A Scandal in Bohemia takes me back several decades to my school days.

A rangoli competition was announced just after the Diwali holidays. My cousin, a few years older than me and in the same school, was quite excited about it. Although we were both novices in drawing rangolis, her enthusiasm and excitement surprised me. After all, it was certain that many other students—experts in rangoli—had already enrolled. Our chances of even securing the last place seemed slim. When I shared my doubts with her, she chided me gently and encouraged me to be positive and give my name.

My aunt, a rangoli expert, offered to help me. She gave me a book filled with rangoli designs and asked me to choose and practise one of them. She also shared a tip: the more complex a rangoli—with several dots and connecting lines—the more beautiful it would appear. I showed the design book to my cousin, but she brushed it aside, saying she had other ideas in mind.

Her confidence intrigued me, but I had no clue what she was planning. I chose a design and decided to work
on it. My aunt guided me patiently, teaching me step by step how to draw the rangoli.

As I’d mentioned earlier, I was a novice, so it took time to get the dots and lines in place—it was quite confusing. As the event drew near, I managed to somewhat master the design. What amazed me was that my cousin showed no signs of practising, yet her enthusiasm for the competition never faded.

On the D-day, though nervous, I mustered the courage to draw the rangoli I had practised, carefully placing the dots and lines. I used different colours to make the design more attractive. While I wasn’t sure how it compared to others, I was content that I had at least made an honest attempt. When the time was up, we were asked to step aside. Curious to see what my cousin had drawn, I turned towards her space—and lo and behold! Her rangoli was stunning. She had created a simple design, drawn with precision, and had thoughtfully placed several diyas at key points. The lamps beautifully illuminated her artwork, making it stand out. Needless to say, she won a prize.

I was genuinely happy for her and asked how she came up with the idea of using diyas. She simply smiled and said, “I observed the magic the diyas created during our Diwali celebration and decided to bring that charm into my rangoli!” 

That event taught me a valuable lesson—the power of observation beyond ordinary sight. Many have seen apples fall from trees, but it was only Sir Isaac Newton who truly observed it and uncovered the law of gravitation. Isn’t that the difference between merely seeing and truly observing?