"I am hanging on this rusty nail, bitting dust, nobody cares for me now. Once, I used to be so famous but now i have lost my sheen, my beauty. That power of lust and seduction I used to show...To make people helpless to admire me... seems lost like fragrance of rose once it gets dry."
Rahul looked all around the museum but did not find anyone. "Did I hear someone or this is last night's hangover?", he ask this question to himself. Then his eyes fall on a painting. At first he was shocked and stunned what he has just seen. A lady in that old painting was looking at him. But later he thought he is just day dreaming. But in real he was not.
That painting again speaks, "It was me whom you just listen?". He try to run but his curiosity won over his fear and he stayed back.
"Who are you?", Rahul ask. That was a quite obvious question. She said can't you read my name? He looked on the wall just above the painting. He reads "Name : I am Lust. Artist: Jagmohan Babu".
"Oh you are the first creation of Jagmohan Babu? He is so famous out there, and now he doesn't even live in India, you know that?"
"No, I didn't knew that. He left me alone here. With these paintings. Oh I so hate him. I can't move out. People used to buy other paintings but not me... True lovers of art have vanished I think." girl in that painting said.
"Why do you want to get sold??" He ask.
"Because, these management peoples are going to send me to the archive of historical paintings. I does not deserve this. I deserve better."
"Yes you deserve better place, you are a master piece."
"Don't fool me."
"No no I am not fooling you. You are really good. Its just a dust on you and poor maintenance has make you look a bit old."
"I fucking hate, that guy who creates me and the abandoned me to get eaten by those termites.. I hate him."
He open his eyes. He was all wet with sweat. He moves his right hand on to the stool placed on left side of his bed to find his spectacles. He put it on his eyes and look at the clock. It was past 12 of afternoon. He overslept. He fights to get himself out of his bed. He took his walking stick and starts walking. He get out of his home. His name plate reads "Jagmohan Babu, Painter."
He call his secretary to book him tickets to India. Next day he was in the same museum, in which his first painting was stored.
He went to each and every corner of that museum but could not find out his painting. Finally he ask manager , "Where is my painting?"
"Who are you sir?" manager ask him full of surprise.
"I am Jagmohan, The painter".
"Oh! I am so pleased to see you..., But we don't have any of your painting here. You are a great artist, how can we keep your paintings here?? You used to sell them off."
"Hemlata, You stupid.. That was my first painting!"
"Oh that one... I have just managed to sell that..."
"There is the guy who brought 'Hemlata' today." Manager point to a young guy.
Jagmohan Babu run in haste to catch him up. He screams..." Hey Boy! Thats my painting." Boy stop and looks back. Jogmohan was speechless... His breaths become short. "Oh god! That guy was in my last night's dream." He said. That guy kept moving.
"I am in love with her..." was Rahul's last words that fall into Jagmohan's ears!
P.S.: Its a fiction... Please send me your feed back by email or comment here. I would like to hear from you.
nyc one..really ought to be read :)ReplyDelete