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Rated: E · Short Story · Personal · #1151362
How the author realises meaning of life through a painting?
Painter Babu

“Painting is a form of art to express your feelings with a reality touch to it”, was how he defined painting. Ask him anything about painting and Painter Babu’s eyes would bloom like an early morning flower. He once told me that his expertise was acknowledged when he was given a chance to talk about painting, no matter by whom. His knowledge about painting and its forms was indomitable and has kept me mystified for a long time now. Though his entourage was not so fortifying, he managed to paint some masterpieces.

As I was silently admiring “Meaning of Life”, my mind was swaying through the memory lane. Painter Babu, as he was fondly called by the whole mohallah*, never believed in modern art. In fact, he hated it. “If I have to use words to explain my painting the whole purpose gets defeated” would be his modest answer to a “why”.

Painter Babu believed in simplicity in painting. “One look at my piece and you should raise your eyebrows” was his argument supporting it. But I always felt that his works had an element of puzzle in them. “Meaning of Life” is still as haunting as it was when I saw it for the first time. Why was the man looking with hope towards the path in tears? Probably he was waiting for someone to return. Did Painter Babu want to tell me some secret of life when he gave me this painting? Though it’s been more than seven years since I last saw him and first saw this painting, these questions have been haunting me.

Invariably, he is one of the finest artists I’ve ever come across. He was at his best when he used to do the so-called “depth painting”. I still remember a painting of a tiger ready for an assault on a deer. But what the tiger failed to notice, and so did I, was a distant hunter aiming his gun at it. The tiger was made to look so prominent that the hunter and the forest went unnoticed. He used to call the painting “Nature”. I’ve still not been able to decipher his message behind the piece. I still feel that when Painter Babu said “Nature” he was pointing towards human nature and not just Mother Nature. Was the tiger a symbolic representation of Man? But there already was one! Then why was he not the red herring?

But he considered the tree in “Meaning of Life” as his best work, a reason enough to make it my favorite. Though it’s been years since I’ve lost sight of the painting, the tree still remains in my mind. And why shouldn’t it be? A tree that seems to be bending and trying to reach the man crying under it deserves that kind of attention. Why should any artist portray it so? What was so special about the tree that made it his favorite work? Still a puzzle to me!

I once happened to put forth my doubts in front of him. But he just laughed them off saying that he was only a painter and not a philosopher. “I do painting for fun, not to teach people! And anyways, I’ve enough problems in my life. This is the way I relax. I just forget everything when I’m painting. I enjoy it! So just don’t stress your mind!” But I was never convinced with his argument. Probably it’s humane not to forget your problems though you want to, and keep thinking of them though you are relaxing. That way, probably he was right.

Though I’ve enjoyed the works of many famous and, also, little known artists, Painter Babu stands apart for the food that he offers to my thought. You’ll be forced to think when you see that the mead in his Meaning of Life has only dry grass, yellow grass, a symbol of lifelessness. In the midst of it stands a beautiful tree, all lush green, looking as if it is bending towards the crying man sitting under it. The path which the man stares at looks so empty. How are all these related?

But today I feel triumphant. Maybe I do not know what exactly Painter Babu wanted to convey, but if I were the man in the painting I knew what it was. The lush green tree is none other than our family, our friends and our well-wishers who are always present for us. Even when everything around us becomes unbearable or lifeless, like the grass in the painting, they are there for us. But we, personally I, many a times ignore them and search for someone who doesn’t want us. We cry for a person who has left us. We wait for the one who would never come back. We just feel sad, dejected, and unaware that there is a tree that wants to shower us with all the love. We always look at the path in front of us unaware that there is someone behind.

Today I write this to appeal to you all to turn back and look behind. To look back before it is late: to turn back and embrace the one behind you. I did the improbable, the mistake of my life. And before I could hold her she was gone, into the oblivion. And though I understand the Meaning of Life now, I do not have my tree; I do not have its shade.

I don’t know if Painter Babu wanted this to be conveyed or perhaps it is my desperation to understand what it is. Is it my loss that I’m seeing in his painting? Whatever it is, this is Meaning of Life.

*mohallah in urdu is locality or community
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