A few days later, he visited the courtyard, which was again empty. This time, however, the bench looked as if it had recently been inhabited: on it were tubes of paint, a child’s tray of watercolors, a bundle of hand-made cigarettes called beedis, and several drawing books. There was also a stool in front of the bench, on which a painting was in progress, temporarily abandoned by its creator. Inder had stood there, taking in the unfinished work - a woman and a horse, with two birds in the background. The bold strokes and strong forms transfixed him; the figures were ready to leap out of the paper, and be caught by the viewer. An old man appeared at his side. Leathery skin, long white hair and worn-out running shoes with no socks: these were the elements of Inder’s first sighting of Keshavji. Completely oblivious of his visitor, the artist sat down and resumed work on the painting, by adding different colors around the woman and the horse. When a new layer of background was complete, he paused for a few seconds, lifted his heavy glasses to his forehead and scrutinized the drawing. Satisfied, he slid the specs back down his nose and picked up an ink pen. Drawing delicate lines, he added details to the figures. It was only after fifteen minutes that the artist looked up at Inder. “Why don’t you sit down,” he said in Hindi. “You’ll get tired standing there.” - from "The Persistence of Memory"
Posted on: Sat, 03 Aug 2013 02:20:00 +0000
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