What are models ? To me, these are models.
The first model to me was that
dinky tractor model Dad bought me for my third birthday. I had it in my grasp,
morning, noon and night. No one could prize it out of my hand, not even the
tempting offer of my favorite ice-cream.
That dented toy model was soon replaced on my fourth birthday by a
three-wheeler. I was a daredevil, causing accidents and breaking priceless
porcelain heirlooms as I raced in the living room which I had turned into my
miniature race track.
I soon outgrew the outdate old fashioned tricycle and graduated to a
two-wheeler. The gardener kept out of my way as I trampled all over his lovingly
tended garden. I did not bother about the thorny rose plants or the stony walk
paths. Many a time I fell and bruised myself as I sped recklessly in his
kingdom. I conscientiously polished my bicycle whenever it rained. My
overzealousness to make it as good as new prompted my elder sister to comment
that I would soon polish everything off. The bicycle remained my faithful
companion until I left for boarding school.
Models became something quite different especially whenever I accompanied
Mother on her shopping sprees. She would drag me round the stores as she
rummaged for bargains. In those days I was quite a patient kid, standing quietly
by and looking up at plastic human models (mannequins). Some of them wee without
clothes or without one leg or arm. Some were complete with beautiful clothes
draped over them. Observing them I wondered how prosperous-looking Mum managed
to find clothes to fit her as all these male or female models were skinny and
seemed to be largely undernourished.
I then had the urge to take up modeling. No, I do not mean swaying on the
catwalk but I caught the fever of modeling cars, airplanes and toy men. It was
fun gluing all the parts and building a model from minuscule parts. Getting my
fingers stuck with glue and dirty was fun. My collection has been framed and
boxed. According to my impish young sister, it was so that I could hand them
down to my children. How wrong can she be ! If I were ever to get married ( at
this juncture, it is furtherest from my mind) I would not let any one come
within touching distance.
My interest in modeling soon petered out. I was not in the least interested
in clay modeling or building models from matchsticks, so I skipped this module
in art, much to my mum's consternation because she thought she could mould me
into a budding artist, sculptor or architect.
I was into reading so I read voraciously, soaking up information. I read
about famous men and omen who have made good in school and who have contributed
to world development. Albert Einstein was no child genius but his later
scholastic years and work have etched a name for him in the science chronicles.
I read about Mother Theresa and her charitable work in the slums of India. Her
mission in life was to help the underprivileged and the poor. I am no young
Einstein or a junior Mother Theresa but I would like to regard them as enviable
When I read about the world's public figures and the uproar they created in
the august Halls of Justice, I shudder to think of the adverse effect on young
impressionable minds. I am sure many youngsters would not regard them as role
models. Money and rhetoric cannot buy them respect for respect has to be earned.
I look around me and I see the ordinary man-in-the street doing an honest
day's work efficiently and diligently. I then realize that eh role models in our
life need not be that rich man who has amassed millions or the woman who talks
the loudest or is the best-dressed figure in that gathering.
My parents work hard to place three square meals on the table, a decent roof
over our heads, a warm bed to sleep on, the opportunities to pursue our dreams.
My mother often laughingly but seriously tells me that she has faults. Her
shortcomings and character deficiency do not make her less a mother. But her
frankness and acceptance of her humanity endear her to me. I would very much
prefer to regard her as my role model. she is not perfect but she is sincere and
On one hand models are miniature objects that we possess. On the other hand,
role models are people we admire for their humanity and whom we wish to