“Every act of perception, is to some extent an act of creation, and every act of memory is to some extent an act of imagination.”
A deserted, lonely room, the ceiling decorated with mosses and dirt, twigs falling here and there and hanging bushes adorning the room. Sideways from the hanging garden there was a sleeky little lizard trying to slip slowly among the twigs, but suddenly it falls on the floor and “Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh..!!!!!!” comes the shriek of a girl and she runs out of the room at full speed. She runs out in the lonely street and he watches her. Yes he watches standing still, as if seen a ghost. Suddenly he glances at the impeccable spot of blurred darkness piercing the light and being struck by a car. “Aaaaaahhhhhhh….!!!” but with a gasp the shriek is let out and again he wakes up in the middle of the night again by the same dream. Yes the same nightmare again.
He woke up; it was two in the morning, still darkness outside. The weather was not much pleasant too. He got up, and gulped half of the water kept in the jar, out of nervousness. He walks to the door and grabs the towel kept over. This he was Ashish. He lived all alone at the outskirts of the town, that was situated somewhere near the shores of sea. His parents were never interested, inspire of being forced by Ashish for setting the town. Its fine, after sometime people can’t leave their, what they call as karmbhoomi. All he had was his loneliness and the leftover sparks of the dream he just saw.
He stood against the window, the sound of the waves was so clear that it came flashing in his ears. He continuously stared at the lamp post. And then he picked up his paint brush and started painting vigorously against the canvas kept before him. He did not know what he was painting actually. But he was just doing so. Meanwhile he just a stole a glance at the portrait he was making. It was the same girl, with impeccable bloodlines as he saw in his dream. Suddenly he felt a need of blue colour and the palette was empty. He moved towards his wardrobe to catch up with his colour. The wind had taken up speed. It was blowing more prominently with lot of force and vigour. Its flow was so strong that it blew the canvas down. And eventually it fell. “THAaaaaaaSSSHHhhhhhhh!!!!!” was the sound produced. It was so loud that Karim ChaCha came up running to see what happened. Yes karim ChaCha, was the only one who looked after Ashish.
What he saw next was a bunch of white papers being scattered in the whole room. They were painted unevenly. But the one thing common in them was that beautiful girl. Ashish was murmuring while painting, as if he was talking with it. “Is everything o.k., Son?” asked Karim ChaCha. But what was going in front of his eyes ever since one month was not unseen. He knew that nothing was fine. it had been more than a month Ashish being struggling with those colours. He viewed change in Ashish’s behaviour. Some uncertain behaviour he witnessed against him. Not only his behaviour but his looks were also affected. He started looking much older than his age. Just one month before he was so healthy and fit. He was struggling with himself and his colour palette. That one girl in all his paintings was a mystery to everybody
Meanwhile His friend Sumaira, tried to move him out of this pit. He advised him to take up a workshop course against talents from all over India in fine arts. He agreed to start a five day workshop for such talented 10 students. The day he entered the workshop in his jeans and peach colour t-shirt, he impressed the class in one go. His fluency in English as well as Hindi mesmerized people and his work with his brush the smooth strokes just stole the heart away of those students. He was smart, intelligent, as well a good painter. He had different approaches to teach painting, the class were his fan from his first day. He was a hero for them from the very first day.
…….to be continued