Art And You

In her bid to escape the mundane, she had reached a beautiful quaint town on an unnoticed Greek island. As she was sauntering around the charming little town, soaking in the beauty and peace of it all, she stopped outside a cafe noticing a pair of sad eyes of a woman staring at her from a painting; she could not help but stare back. “Do you like the painting?” a husky voice asked her breaking her concentration. She turned around to put a face to the voice and found a man in rugged light blue jeans and casual white shirt standing next to the pots of brushes and an easel. She responded with a question as she realised he was the artist who created this piece of stirring emotion, “Why are her eyes so sad?” The painter studied the inquisitor’s dewy eyes for a brief moment and then looked at his painting. After a few seconds of contemplation he demanded, “Why don’t you tell me?”

That’s the thing about art and artists, she thought. A piece of art only assures you that you are not alone in your wretchedness. It is always about your interpretation, your pain. It is always about why you feel a connection with it. Be it music, words, paintings, photographs or any other art form. The fact that she could sense the pain of the woman in the painting was only a reflection of her own misery.

She gave a knowing smile to the cute brown-eyed painter, decided not to answer this time and turned to leave.

After a few steps she paused, looked back, winked at him and said, “Efharisto.” This time he gave her a reassuring smile.

This too shall pass

She entered her room, it was unusually quiet and not in a good way. She loved her solitude, but not today.  She went through her normal routine around home craving distraction. Never did she feel so completely alone. Then the phone rang. It was her friend.

“Don’t use repression as a coping mechanism,  your behavior is unnatural,” her friend blasted in a concerned tone. “This act of being strong, stoic, calm and unbreakable isn’t fooling anyone.”

That was it. The realization of the pain ahead dawned on her. It was only going to get worse. She had asked him to disappear from her life for good. She was waiting for the “good” to show its face. The pain was unbearable. The harder she tried to conceal her volcanic emotions, the more they raged through her. Sobbing and wailing in all her brokenness, she kept repeating in her head this too shall pass.

And one more time she had to cry herself to sleep.

He Chose To Ruin

I once shared this extraordinarily beautiful quote from the movie “Shakespeare in Love” with him. It was from the sequence where Viola De Lesseps describes the kind of love she wants… The ungovernable kind… The kind of love where your only option is to be ruined or raptured. I did not know then he took those words so seriously. He completely ruined me.