Life's Canvas

It was the sort of a day, where you could not decide whether you prefer the sunshine over the blowing wind or the other way round. The doves, sparrows, pigeons and robins all sang in unison. The keen dandelions, roses, chrysanthemums and hydrangeas peeked through the casements to catch a glimpse of their beautiful master and mistress, who have tended to them so long. The charm of the day was such, as could make even old and dejected hearts alive again and it's charm on young and elated people was better unspoken. "Now, Rebecca stop fidgeting with those curtains and let the fresh draught and sunlight make you my alluring subject," said Dave shuffling his paint brushes and palates from behind the vast white canvas. "Well, then you agree that I am so hideous that the sunlight and wind are necessary to make me look tolerable?" asked Rebecca, her arms folded over her chest and eyes lit with playful malice. Dave said nothing but merely smiled. She finally complied and seated herself on the couch arranged just in front of the canvas. Dave had been right, the sunlight and wind turned the ravishing beauty into a living deity.

Dave was not an artist by profession but the eternal happiness he received by imitating the inimitable beauty of Rebecca with dexterous strokes on canvas was incomparable. It is a matter of debate whether it is Dave's love for painting or his love for his wife, Rebecca, which urges him to undertake a task almost extinct in today's urban world.

Her hair, a golden brown cascade flowing over her bosom and emitting such sweet a scent of lilies and lavenders as could be perceived by our olfactory nerves even from a distance. Her eyebrows, perfectly arch shaped as if carved by the masons who gave life to the arch shaped doorways of the Roman architecture. Her eyes, of the same hue as that of a cloudless, pristine autumn sky. Her nose long and slender and pointed on which the sunlight added a gentle contour. The complexion of the face was truly divine and could only be attained by a brew of white, ochre and golden shades and quintessentially Dave's deft hands. Her rosy lips curved into a seamless smile which widened at the site of her husband's face screwed in concentration, evidently the smile could have made anyone's day let alone Dave's and the smile also ended in a small dimple embedded on the right cheek. Dave, then with a touch of gold here and a touch of gold there, added the finishing touches which made the portrait precious enough to be gladly hung as the central attraction in any gallery.

-------------------------------------

     Not a soul on the road was to be seen. The piazzas, pavements and gardens were all windswept. The deafening silence of the roads evidently indicated that mankind was being haunted by the throes inflicted by an invisible and invincible adversary. If the weather of a place could be planned, then today's weather, undoubtedly was conspired to have completely diabolical effects on everyone. The birds were perched on the branches of trees in clusters as if afraid to leave their companions. The flowers were deep in slumber within the clenched sepals. Every happy heart ran the risk of turning bitter. The master and mistress of the house were crammed in a couch, hand in hand, occasionally darting nervous glances towards each other. The image of the news reporter flashed on the television screen and she began to recite in her monotonous voice "The Prime minister declares complete lockdown from tomorrow as the death toll for covid-19 rises above one thousand a day. He tells that, this step is significant to ensure the safety of all the citizens. The following are the guidelines to be followed:

Everyone must stay at home at all times.

Only the shops providing emergency services would be allowed to be opened that too in a specific hour of the day." And the list went on.

How many millions of sighs were heaved in response to these statements, how many millions of heads were buried in the hands simultaneously, remains unknown. The picture of mass graves flashed on the screen, next. Rebecca hid her face in Dave's arm, a few pats on her head seemed to calm her down. "Would things never get normal?" she asked earnestly her eyes filled with anguish. "It definitely would dear and as long as we have each other, I can assure you that no sorrow could inflict any pain to either of us," the words were all the comfort she needed. Words at times work wonders. Just mere words.

-------------------------------------

      After two hundred and sixty two days, the weather miraculously forgot to be gloomy today. Or it might have got tired of the melancholy and decided for a change. The reporter on the news channel today, seems excited, talking about government plans for reopening of schools, colleges and all workplaces. The birds and flowers seem wide awake, grateful to have got a chance to thrive again. The weather instantaneously alleviated every sense of glum from one's heart. It's almost surprising how our spirits get affected so greatly by something like weather which at most of the times gets deemed trivial by us. The new dawn again anticipated the master and mistress to be in their respective positions, behind the canvas and on the couch. Art definitely brought happiness to their lives. The golden brown cascade, the arch-shaped eyebrows, the sky blue eyes, the pointed nose, the divine complexion and the carefree smile were all being routinely imitated, but in the midst of this, Dave's hand began to quiver suddenly and tears rolled down from his cheeks and got accumulated on the colour palate. He let go of his paintbrush and buried his face in his hands. Painting Rebecca's face had never been so difficult hitherto, but now definitely it was, since Rebecca was gone, gone forever, called back to heaven, the place where the enigmatic angel truly belonged.