His father gifted him with a nice color box, it was his tenth birthday. Until now he had no any experience of a color box and brush - how to paint it with them! But it just went magical. He found so thrilling coloring red, green, blue, gray and all others over the canvas. The things would turn on an attractive shape and brilliant contrast after they got painted. The sun, moon, trees, mountains, birds and animals all would have an enthralling affect on him. They looked even more than a real world.
He loved to watch over them for hours, painted and hanged properly and until his utmost satisfaction, he didn’t start working on a newer painting.
Soon, his room came to be established more like an art gallery, where man and animals, nature, including sky and clouds exhibited all along. This simply attracted everyone- including uncles and aunts of neighbor. People and his friends started visiting his room frequently, admired his artwork, and at times, some showed interest to get one or two paintings to make their room equally beautiful.
The sort of demand of his paintings or creating an art for other people was a new concept for this new young artist. How he could get them away- they were so darling to him, created through all his inner self and dedication. His artworks seemed really a part of his self. How an own part could be kept away! Impossible.
Why so much ardent love for his own painting? Only because a little canvas can show an endless world through lines and colors! The huge things could be made in your little world of space- at your own wish and at your own chosen colors. Amazing! How a real world comes to exist in your drawing room. The endless world comes to set in your hands. He didn’t know anything of it. He knew nothing what the reason was behind his fascination which forced him to draw and color. He had no definition yet or how to describe his interest over it.
The new aunty, a neighbor recently, was one of his fans. She was newly married hence young boys of colony called her New Aunty. She had so many questions for his paintings. Most of the time she would query more like a child, such as, how this canvas is made, how you prefer to color, how you come to depict all these, how you draw a circle without the help of equipment, similarly how you draw a straight line without the help of a scale, etc. Always she loved to put his hands on her palm and pat them and examine if there was unique in them. She knew that to draw a painting a soft and fine hand was a must, and exactly what she got in him. She also loved to watch over those paintings hanging on the wall, for hours. She, at times, would show more interest on creation than the creator. There were endless questions for her little artist and her artist would answer honestly as he could do - he liked red color more than anything, besides, yellow, green, blue and gray, black and white, he equally loved them all. But he wished to show them in equilibrium; he wanted to see them exist in togetherness. That was more fascinating and thrilling to him. Similarly, he told her that he didn’t want to draw a thing in solitude. He loved togetherness. Trees and birds, home and doors and windows, sky and clouds, sun and moon, grass and bushes, garden and flowers- all were equally drawn and depicted through his imagination - a rich settlement painted in everyway.
These all would thrill her. She pleasantly looked at him with her larger eyes, more beautiful than ever on such moments. More than that, it was thrilling to know how a creation meant to be! What is the real force behind a beautiful creation?
Recently he portrayed a red rose, stark red with a green background. The way he colored had embossed off red petals of rose out of dark background. The petals seemed co-existed and looked beautiful. What a red rose meant to be - a combination of fragile petals and well supported by leaves and similar offshoots!
That evening when he entered his house after having visited playground, he found his new painting missing. It never happened before! Impossible! Who dared touching his painting!
He asked his mother all about, quite furiously and anxiously. But his mother only sent a smile over his reactions. He was so restless. He was hungry to watch this painting, and he just needed it. There was no space for compromise anyway!
His earnest rigidity led his mother tell about it- she only indicated to their neighborhood - where his New Aunty lived.
Oh! It was she who dared it! When she would return it? Why she had chosen to pick it up? Couldn’t she watch here hanging on the wall?
Many curious questions rose upon him. And his mother replied only through her continuous smiles, and only said, “Let it talk tomorrow, your painting is safe after all.”
Though it made him assured a little, still, it appeared really tough to him. Something from his inner world had spilt out. He could have felt the sort of feelings before, only when people would be demanding off his paintings, but it was a cruel reality then and it went desperate shaking his entire inner and outer whole. He was sad, even did not went to eat his meal as usual that night.
Next day, he continued waiting to his New Aunty – coming along his way with painting. She would come back and would appreciate widely as commonly she used to do. She would put her hands on his palm and say – Wow! Is that your fragile palm which has created such a beautiful painting!
But she didn’t come until that evening now it’s too much and he pushed himself toward her house, though she was his neighbor, but he had no habit to visit anyone’s house - except only friends and playground, his world was so limited. With shy and all his hesitations, he knocked the door, and she welcomed him warmly, urged to sit and have something as if he were a guest.
But there was only a single target – all focused on painting. Where it was, let it back now?
“I have this, and it’s safe, don’t worry!”- She assured him with smiling eyes. She asked him to come tomorrow again.
“Ok! That’s good, I’ll come again”. – He said, although it all disappointed him. He was so eager to have his painting back and set again on his wall and watch endlessly until his satisfaction. .
Next day, he again awaited New Aunty until evening. She must come now; she must have watched out that painting properly. He thought, and walked down to her house.
She opened the door and again welcomed him with gratitude - do come in please! She went on talking with him gracefully and nicely. Maybe consciously she started rambling through here and there like- how are you? What new you are going to depict now? What do you like in a meal? What is your favorite drink! How you’ve imagined in such a contrasting way!
Damn it! Silly! Childish as usual! He was much irritated but restrained himself anyhow.
She might have read his face and more politely patted his head and said, “Tomorrow afternoon, I swear, I’ll keep up all my promises done. Knock my door tomorrow afternoon, yes, and never in the evening. I can’t return your thing on such evenings, when all demons, deities and angels are awake. I just can’t! Come tomorrow noon.”
She said with her more wide and extensive eyes looking straight on his face, more beautiful than ever.
It was an unusual hot noon of the month of June when he finally knocked at her door. According to his New Aunty, all demons, deities and angels get asleep on such sort of moments, and only then there could have been a deal between the two souls which have no witness at all.
He was thoughtful when he waited for to open the door. He had no sense anyway what his New Aunty had meant to say all these! Silly! The way she used to talk was silly. Childish, foolish!
He entered her room and she let him to sit, sitting herself right in front of him.
Everyone was asleep – it appeared to him.
“Now tell me, where is my painting, please give it to me and keep all your promises fulfilled.” He made his gesture.
“Do you want your painting, Red rose?”
“Yes, I desperately need it, and please keep your promise; see, how your deity is sleeping there.” He said pointing to a place where a deity idol had been placed on and His eyes were closed.
She didn’t smile over his innocence, and suddenly sat down on her knees right in front of him, caught his both palms with her hands and put them over her mounted breasts.
“Here they are….!” – She whispered and shut her eyes, only her lips opened a bit. She, for a moment continued pressing his palms along her side.
The strange moment existed for a while only, but it appeared really- really vast.
Soon, she got on her normal posture and stared at him with more wide eyes, with more quivering lips and with more appreciating gesture - as if she wanted to tell, “still would you like to complain against me, haven’t you got your thing right away..!”
Back his home, he sat amid his paintings, thoughtfully yet. But he was not conscious of looking any painting, nor was he more interested in his Red-Rose. But only that unusual deal had just made him shaken thoroughly. He went on thinking and thinking over it; what a sort of deal it was! The angels, deities and demons all were asleep; what he would tell them when they all would awake - what it all was between the two!
The deal was unknown and mysterious!
Part Three in the Mu Series - Sarah Thompson reluctantly abandons her desperate search for her soul mate on Maui and returns to her Montana hometown. Her brother has had a terrible accident...
3 WAY MIRROR is about a lost identity as experienced by a twenty-eight-year old who thinks he's Charles Randall, until strange events suggest otherwise.
