The Lucky Draw

When my sister was eleven and I nine, she entered a drawing into a children's magazine and got second prize for it. The judges must have thought her painting of penguins set in snow and watery ice-holes quite captivating. I had thought the prize captivating. It was a hamper of 48-set crayons, 12 tubes Faber Castel paints, pencils and what- have- you all mountained in a square tray. If you remember the crayons and pencils of the old days and maybe even now, they smell terrific; of newness and all-out possibilities. Those smelled of victory. Inspired, I entered a work of my own. The focus point of "Sunrise on the bay" was the rising sun of melded orange yellows and reds; of newness and all-out possibilities. “Sunrise” didn't get displayed in the winner's corner. It got lost in the mail. Possibly. Or more possibly, the contest became obsolete. However, two years later, as soon as my brother could wield a broken crayon, he mailed his work in and won the third prize. I don't remember what he drew.

This July my sister won a Toyome Electric Oven in a lucky draw. It had meant something to a family whose luck was like finding a worm in an apple; a live one. We acknowledge grimly that we have to work for our wares, kitchen or non-kitchen. Still, my sister's no longer eleven and the electric oven is no box of victory crayons. When the initial thrill of the win wore off, we thought that perhaps it would be more wise in future to win something we need. Because there the box sat, destitude, dejected and dusting in the corner. For several days, I would find my sister making calls or on e- bay attracting prospective Toyome Electric oven buyers. At one point in time, she seated the box quietly next to her on the couch as she keyed in its vital statistics. At other moments she jumped at the ringing phone and negotiated quite excitedly. Her efforts were outstanding, but God is fair. She may be one bossy lawyer, but the price previously set at eighty-five dollars and sixty cents continued to drop.

Finally there was a buyer! A cab drew up outside our terrace house one cooling night as my sister hugged Toyome out for the exchange. She didn’t mind that her sleeves were rolled up or had hair falling from her executive bun. It was an important moment for Toyome. It had entered our household boldly against odds. It was now leaving even- thirty dollars and sixty cents less important.