Going for art classes every Fridays was such a joy to me indeed. I enjoyed painting and drawing just as much as any other average teenager enjoyed playing computer games or watching television. I didn’t even mind walking almost two kilometres to attend my art classes while my little sister tagged along. To me, art was everything. Occasionally, I would even stop by the roadside stall just a stone’s throw away from Mr Aziz’s humble abode to enjoy a light brew of ‘teh tarik’.
   Just then, while I was deep in thought, a black sedan took a sharp turn round the bend and was on a collision course for Alicia. I bellowed at her in dismay but to no avail. Finally, with a sudden surge of energy and as if by instinct, I sprang into action and bolted towards my little sister. In the nick of time, I managed to push herout of danger. But unfortunately, I found myselfstanding facing the dare devil who seemed to be heedless of his surroundings. And before I knew it, I felt my entire body jerk backwards as I heard a loud and piercing “NOOOO!!”…

I awoke with a start, my eyes wide open and my lungs panting for breath as a shiver ran down my spine. It had been six painful years since that horrid incident. Now I was partially disabled. Without the aid of my hands and legs which had to be amputated, I almost gave up hope on life. Not being able to go to school was one thing but not to be cherished by friends anymore was another dire fate I had to accept but no, it did not end there! Worse was in store as I finally learned that I would remain crippled for life since my parents could not afford the exorbitant cost of artificial limbs. This unforgiving revelation also meant the end of something else which was equally vital to me in my perspective… art.

something else which was equally vital to me in my perspective… art.
   A droplet of tear rolled slowly down my cheek as I struggled to look up at the portraits on the wall. They looked back at me in unison, most of them bearing the sweet, demure faces of people born from my pure and relentless imagination. Nevertheless, unlike what I had previously thought, all hope was not lost as both my mentor and teacher; Mr. Aziz renewed my source of strength. It was then that I began to realise that I was gifted in some way, a way I had never imagined before or thought possible.
   The one thing that my parents could afford at the most was home tutoring. My parents managed to employ a retired school teacher and, it was none other than Mr. Aziz, the humble man who had once taught me how to execute beautiful paintings on art blocks. Despite my handicap, I was thrown a lifeline. My life took a new turn.
   It’s hard to ruminate my past but if I’m not mistaken, I was sixteen when Mr. Aziz suggested to me to hold a brush with my mouth and try painting. At first, I was reluctant and deemed it ridiculous to shove a brush up the same opening I used to chew food! But later, he explained that it was the only way I could resume the love of my life once more and by Jove, was he a sweet-talker who convinced me into accepting his suggestion! Outrageous as it might seem initially, I grew accustomed to a new way of painting. It was a long hard struggle. Under Mr. Aziz’s compassionate guidance, it wasn’t long before I mastered the art of painting like the Foot and Mouth artists.
Almost a year had passed since I created my first portrait using my mouth. It won for me the International Art Competition for the Disabled. That was the beginning as sponsors from multi-national companies funded my budding career in art. Meanwhile, manydisabled people all over the country were encouraged by my determination to lead a life of independence. My success gave the solid impression that disability was not a barrier to success.  After all, it was in fact a blessing in disguise for me as I would have never won the competition had I been able-bodied.
   From that day onwards, I never looked back. I painted with such zeal that turned blank canvases into stunning masterpieces which always never failed to auction below a six-digit figure. With revenue rolling in every time one of my artworks was auctioned, I managed to change the fortunes of my family and those whom I loved very much. I even created a worldwide fund to help disabled people to achieve their dreams. To be honest, when Mr. Aziz was sitting beside me, watching me in action on a canvas, a tear would trickle down his cheek though he tried to hide it most of the time. I then understood how proud he was of me. I had indeed come a long way.     
 
  As I now toss in bed, I get the feeling that it was destiny that brought me this far in life along with the unmatched guidance and teachings of my mentor and the saviour of my dreams, Mr. Aziz. This kind and loving man, the architect of my success had always been the candle illuminating my pitch black surroundings where I struggled to find an exit. Nevertheless, as I eventually found it with valiant effort and as I tried to reach out for the door-knob, I soon realised that I lacked hands. But just then, as all hope was fading and thecourage inside me deterring, the soft and gentle hand of Mr. Aziz turned that knob for me… All I had to do was walk through that door towards the bright future which awaited me, a bright future which called to me with arms wide-open…..
I had indeed come a long way.     

This essay won the third prize in the ‘Peraduan Menulis Cerita Untuk Bacaan Murid Sek Men,sempena Hari Guru 2007 Kategori Bahasa Inggeris’ at national level