Every picture always depicts a story unseen.
It feels quite different today, with the absence of all that jittery feeling of emptiness I dwell into everyday. Even the early morning sunlight is bright enough to kiss my skin from the silhouette of the trees grown in my garden. The aroma of the morning dew is replaced by the faint smell of burning woods, probably its the water kept for boiling on the woods in the neighbours. It seems to be a good time to hold my brush.
Today I feel like to paint you and it never felt so strongly before in all these years. It feels like some old revered memories are rushing back like dying waves coming down to hit the shore of my thoughts with all the energy they hold . You were beautiful, you were not meant to be re-created. I never held the skills to make you my subject to paint , you were simply beyond the bounds of possibility. Probably it was always the fear paramount over my skills to fail at this endeared task. It’s somehow easy now, after all these mammoth sized anxieties have subsided to mere aphids after losing you.
I quickly take a look at the easel lying at the corner and bring it to the right place, and start to search for my essentials. I slip out a clean sheet of paper from the covers, the paper looks great with that rich white colour spread evenly outright till the edges and seems powerful than ever for all the nothingness it holds together. The acrylic tubes can still be squeezed enough to get the work done. I reach out for my pockets to find the pack of cigarettes empty and now I need to buy one cause it’s going to be a long sitting and lately I have realized without one its difficult for me to hold my brush still . I pick some crumbled bills and buy myself a pack of cigarettes and a couple of charcoal pencils. And finally its time to bring you down on my paper.
I close my eyes to picture you, it’s always easy to find a perfect image of you in my mind, it appears so clear with every intricate details , each holding a story to reminisce on the moments we lived together. I hope you would find some attributes captured so perfectly which will make you realise even your mirror somehow missed out on those and you would surely jump back to life to view in the mirror to confirm . In no time I see my hands moving over the paper so elegantly like an independent craftsman who knows his work well and have probably done you a million times over. It certainly feels like as if I’m running my fingers over every inch of your skin and my brush trying to imitate it perfectly on the paper with the varying pressure over the tip of the brush resembling the grooves over your skin. The thoughts in my mind are blurred out during this whole time till I realise it’s finally done and my brush is resting on the palette.
I take a moment to look at this creation and its perfect. I can see your hairs come out exactly as desired, you could notice the invisible spaces between the fine strands of your hair. Flossy and shine they fall over your shoulder perfectly. And how could I possibly go wrong with those eyes, those sparkling brown eyes have some irresistible charm – the possible doors to your soul which never betrayed your feelings. And the fine tiny wrinkles at the edge of the eyes if you observe carefully. Even the slender long eyebrows arched over escalates the beauty of her eyes . A clear brow which slides down at the centre over your nose and the smooth hairline running down to the sides ending at the ears hiding behind your hairs and I took special care while building the side lines cause I could feel them fit perfectly in my hands every time I hold you. That perfect smile you wear makes me fall for you each time I see you and fixed with those delicate lips pared to perfection. Did I mention the texture of your skin, its smooth like silk and that special glow brings joy to faces. Probably you were just flawless to define.
I wish you were here in real to praise you than this mere replication of yours. I stub out the cigarette in the ash tray and rise to I pick up the portrait to find a place on one of my walls . As I enter the room , I see an empty frame and a dozens of this exact painting hanging on the walls. To my surprise , I find a note on the empty frame. The note unfolds a shocking reality of me suffering from something termed as anterograde amnesia- its losing ability to create new memories . It made my heart sink for a while, but I realize everything falling into place. The feeling of emptiness and these exact same paintings hung on the wall. But I wonder why this note is placed near the empty frame. Probably its only the memory of you which has stayed intact all these years, and this painting somehow helps me cope up with my memory disorder. I create another empty frame on the wall with the note and hope the next time I feel like to paint you it would bring a new memory of having an empty frame with a note waiting for me.
Mirror mysteries are always fascinating, Imagine the mirror that always reflects the obvious truth if someday shows up with something that you don’t believe in. It will freak the hell out of you.
“My mirror, you look suprised today.
What’s the matter ?
I see nothing unusual to my appearance that should concern you.
But your gaze somehow indicates I am unable to see the obvious right away.
Are you sure something is unfamiliar or is it just a mere illusion of yours ?
As I see everything is still the same –
The heart is no less broken than before.
The eyes are still dry and pale tired of crying.
The dark circles can’t get any darker with the countless nights devoid of sleep.
The hair is all shabby and mess and the beard has grown long over the years.
The smile is invisible as if the lip line never knew it could get any wider.
The skin has long lost its glow beyond repair.
Then, What’s the difference ?
Your fear is driving me crazy besides you are the only one I could trust these days.
I wish I could see the difference and rather get suprised by you.”
As he drops his head down disappointed, deep inside he knew what the mirror meant to say but didn’t have the courage to acknowledge it. After all he couldn’t stop thinking about this girl he met last night and who seems to demolish these walls he built around himself again making him vulnerable and weak and he definitely holds no strength anymore to bare the pain again. This girl simply challenged his prejudice about love and the idea of giving up on someone he defined love was difficult for him to even think about . True love is meant to happen only once , is what he made himself to believe all this years.
And the truth revealed by the mirror stood against this belief. Knowing the mirror would always reflect this inevitable change for forever now ,it is just the matter of time when he will stand in consensus with the mirror , he tries hard to hold his tears and looks back into the mirror but this time it’s with the smile of acceptance and the change is visible.
Weddings and receptions everywhere, seems magically everyone found their perfect match. Talking love and tender emotions have suddenly become an act of the past. Here’s how I fancy a special moment would be shared by the sweet couple at a wedding ( an adaption inspired from e e cummings poem ).
So here you are said he
All for you said she
Can I feel you close ? said he
This much close ? said she
Time lost count as you walk down that aisle said he
History saved , I almost trembled for a while said she
Four years wait , we made it through said he
Being apart was tough , but I always believed in you said she
I wanna hold you tight for long as time said he
Just with care , I might squeal but that’s fine said she
Your beauty ! – ineffable and divine said he
I believe your eyes knows it more than mine said she
Warm and Alluring , thy words I feel said he
Its my heart in thrall to your irresistible charm said she
The pleasure I seek being with you , nowhere I find said he
The care and empathy you show , there’s no such kind said she
Is it love ? said he
Love , if you will said she
“vuoi sposarmi ? ” said he
“Sì , I do ” cried she
( Audience rise in applauds )
They were meant to be said they
Congratulations! said he
Congratulations ! said she
I call out for you to be my guest tonight.
Hi Tears !
Nice to meet you. Look at you, haven’t changed a bit since my knowledge of you. Might sound a little quirky, but I happen to call you today for no reason. Yeah and I’m completely sober and sane if you have such doubts now, and I don’t wish to demean the very purpose you serve. I know you have many more reasons to appear, but today it’s just you. I have vague memories of you associated with my childhood although the recent ones have been registered well. I suppose your occurrence has reduced with time, not that the reasons are falling short, it’s just that I have learned to hold you on for few. It’s always something else that occupies my mind and heart when I sought solace in you, but today let’s just talk about you. I fear I ever gave a sound thought about you all these years and I must admit I barely know you for real, how is it to be you? I mean all that enormous amount of human emotions you hold in that tiny little drop. I couldn’t possibly fathom the gravity of such measure you could carry within you with my inept mind. I’m just aware of the ones you shared with me, what about the billion others I’m oblivious to. What is it like to experience those countless short-lived journey of yours on billions of faces that you come across ? I mean a lifetime wouldn’t suffice to explore your treasure of life experiences. And I could imagine how rich your treasure chest would be as the stories collected over these years would be no ordinary ones. I mean tell me how intense would be those emotions, on the face of that Survivor who opened his eyes to witness the devastating site of bloodshed after the attack, to be on her face while she couldn’t fight anymore against those monsters holding her against the ground, giving her pain. On that poor schizophrenic who is struggling hard for life to understand what is real. To be rolling on his face who’s unable to make her realize how it feels like dying inside.You equally stand for the better and beautiful side of emotions too like the one on the faces of those parents to see their new-born child after trying for long. On that artist for the love bestowed on him by the millions cheering for him, on this old proud face who retired from work today after serving his duty for years with sincerity. In those spiritual moments of ecstasy and joy when they understand the philosophy of human misery. Your indifferent nature towards joy and sorrow reflects your egalitarian trails too. How different does it feel to look on whom you appear ? Like how big and strong where the emotions when the Mahatma shed one or even the mighty Hitler for that matter and how small where they when the kid along the roadside shed few out of hunger. According to Hindu legend, even Lord Shiva couldn’t hold on to his strong feelings, the single tear from his eyes fell on the earth to grow into a Rudraksha tree. It’s unreal to empathize your strength to hold such emotions in all these cases. I fancy about your different pathways over the faces once you drop out of the eyes and finally disappear for eternity. Like the ones emerging from the edges and running along the sidelines and finally getting soaked into our pillows, or the ones running along the cheeks till you drain off over the tip of the chin. Sometimes getting wiped off by hands before reaching the lips while traveling along the nose line , some odd little times you get to reach over the lips but you kind of taste a bit salty over the tongue. It’s better you don’t leave back visible stains on our faces , or else every life would have been an open-book to read. I wish you could be collected and preserved to revisit the emotions you hold on for. I wish you were vocal to we people to make us realise what’s really going on within.
Tears waited all this long quietly holding on to my eyelids to hear me and finally rolled away from my eyes like it always does.
“I beg you, Please don’t leave me, Dear. ”
But she didn’t bother to care, as she already made it clear.
I could see you move away from me, with every step that you take towards the door.
Unable to make any move, my body stands frozen to the core.
I felt like something just left my body behind,
And it ran towards you to hold you by your hand.
As if it knew how to make you remind,
That this love is not so easy to find.
But Oh my god, what’s happening here !
Its struggling hard to hold you back, but couldn’t make it even though,
At last I see my poor intangible soul couldn’t help but let you go.
A fictional tale which answers to none…
Walking along the shore late night under the crescent moon light he was lost in this state of melancholy. He reaches out for a cigarette and a lighter from his pocket , lights it up and takes in a deep breath of smoke. The cool steady breeze just adding the beauty to the atmosphere is trying to steal away the cigarette smoke from the tip of his mouth. Even the smoke inside isn’t spared as if the air has it all to cleanse the toxic within. The moist sand underneath providing a comfortable cushion to his bare feet. The sea water rolls off his legs every time the waves run into the coastline.
On his way along the shore ride he accidentally stumbles over a rock under water. As the wave reclines back over his legs he finds an idol with the throne just visible above the surface. He digs out some soil to get this small Ganesh murti out , and washes off the mud over it with some water. He stares at the idol giving this smile of recognition as if waiting all his life to talk to it. He didn’t have much to say , just a few answers from this Almighty who act like the panacea for all the disorders in our living . He was always sceptical about getting any answers , never did he find anyone like him coming up with help when he needed the most. He speaks out-
” They say you know everything. That’s the reason why you are different from me.
I hear their silence,
You hear their plead..
I see their laughter,
You see their tears..
I see what they receive,
You see what they sacrifice..
I know about their dreams,
You know about their fears..
But I do know something, dear Lord,
You created soil,
I created a cup..
You created darkness,
I created the lamp..
You created time,
I created its Age..
You created wood,
I created paper..
And above all ,
As you created me
I think I created you..
Isn’t that true ? ”
As he finishes off this dialogue , a voice whispers behind him….