THE MASTERPIECE

It was a fine February evening. Winters were withdrawing and spring was onsetting. The orange setting sun, a light breeze which still carried some chill in it and the sweet scent of the blooming flowers, all were contributing to make it a perfect evening. Delhi looked at its prettiest best. Standing on my doorstep, I was admiring the weather.I felt the urge to go out, out of the confines of my home, out into the city to savour the wonderful weather. I dressed up, hired an auto and landed up in my most favourite Connaught Place. With its multitude of shops surrounding the Central Park, CP is always sprawling with people. Nonchalantly I was strolling through the crowds...

All of a sudden, I saw something. And it hit me. Deep within. Hit me like thunderbolt. It was a face. The face. In the crowd it stood there. He stood there. I wanted to scream. I screamed. I screamed the name. But no words came out. I ran towards him. Cutting through the enormous crowd, I ran. I shouted the name again. This time some voice managed to come out of my throat. For a second or two he looked towards me, turned away and started walking. I ran for life after him. Piercing the crowd, trying to reach him before he was lost. But he kept walking away from me.Away and away.He disappeared, vanished. Out of my reach, away from me. Again!

I stopped. Dejected, loss-stricken, I walked, towards where, I didn't know. Where was I going? I didn't remember. What was I doing? I didn't know. All I could think was, him. I had lost him once, and now lost him yet again. Everything else lost its meaning.

I quickly took an auto and returned home. Silently, I sat on the sofa. My eyes were streaming with tears. Did I actually see him? Was he there? Was I imagining? Hallucinating? Was he for real? Had I lost my mind? Had I become insane? My heart was pounding and I could faint anytime. Something was breaking inside me. Shattering into pieces. I felt like breaking everything. Destroying the world. I couldn't comprehend anything. In the desperation, exasperation, I went to my table, picked up the brush, dipped it into Prussian Blue and started painting...


* * *

Many years have passed.

I stand at the same door step, thinking of the same face. Tears roll down my cheeks. I never saw him again.

I turn towards my room. A painting hangs on one of the walls. Behind the glass and golden frame it stands precious and secure. That day he gave me my most cherished possession. He gave me, my Masterpiece.