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The Canvas
by Shveta Kabra Bookmark and Share
 

The eerie feeling has crept again. Three days in a row and it is turning me into a nervous-wreck. Ever since I have started this painting, each time I pick my brush I have this weird feeling 'that ... I' somehow'something is weighing heavily. 

Crash!

I run towards the window and look outside. There is a crack in glass of the window. I search for the nuisance object that might have caused the damage and to my surprise I find none! I strain my ears and try to listen hard. All I hear is the twitter of the cricket. Suddenly it has become very dark outside 'black clouds laden with rain cover the entire sky. Thunderstorm! A jerk and I get the shock of my life as I find myself in the midst of the gory mountains 'in that storm'alone. Is my vision playing tricks on me? My painting has comes to life! 

A sudden downpour leaves me drenched. I run towards one of the sparingly covered trees for shelter. The corrugated leaves offering practically no solace from the rain. 

I don't know what to do. When in doubt follow your instincts. That's the golden rule. I slowly tread on the thin path that leads to a dilapidated shed. The door creaks under its own weight as I make my way inside the dimly lit hut. Droplets of water dripping from the thin roof make it creepy and risky. The hut may fall apart any second! 

I was wrong, never trust your instincts.

All of a sudden the people I had known all my life fill the hut, not as humans but as apparitions. People I had been bad to, whom I had hurt and deceived. Friends whom I had lied to 'it was all coming back to me. They had gathered to pay back what I had done to them. It was their turn to be nasty. They wanted to bury me under that hut till I was washed away in the rains. How horrendous! I pleaded. I cried. No one listened. I knew I had sinned and I had to pay for my deeds. The moment I realized this, and the hut fell apart and the fierce rain hit my face like a blow. With such force it washed me' as if washing away my impurities, my sins' the rancor, the bitterness I had been holding 'all seemed to be draining off... I felt so light. The storm slowly began to fade away giving way to a gentle breeze'

The soft drizzle touches my face jolting me back to reality. I open my eyes. The view from my window is just perfect! The entire experience was merely a play of my imagination. I smile to myself, relieved. My canvas has taught me a lesson. As a mirror, it reflected the inner side of me. Somewhere deep within me all this while the animosity and the bitterness that I was harboring, it has helped me get rid of it. I have become a better person. I owe this to my canvas. 

There are many more paintings 
this heart will paint in due course of time. 
All I need is a fresh canvas, 
a new perspective each time'

I shrug off the thought and return back to finish my canvas. I begin to paint my virtues' with gentle strokes' softly' on the canvas of life'   

6-Sep-2001
More by :  Shveta Kabra
 
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Solitude and other poems by Rajender Krishan
 


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