LOOKING BACK

It was a 2-in-1 picture with a photograph and a painting mounted together and framed with glass. The glass was cracked. The painting was of a lily pond and the photograph was portrait of a handsome young man. I tried to take down the picture to study the signature when the brittle wood backing, powdered and fell to the floor leaving the glass to fall noisily to the ground. I looked round guiltily wanting to apologize but there were none alongside. I cleaned up the mess I had created. I stood looking at the cardboard mounted with the picture duo. As I lifted it to study the signature I noticed something written on the rear perhaps in Arabic. I couldn’t read the lines but made a photo of the scripted matter. I could make out that the photo was of Dmitri and the landscape was by Ludmila.

Now let me narrate how I came to be looking at that picture. I am a writer and had planned to write a novel based on the lives of Dmitri Zykov and his common law wife Ludmila, both famed artists of yester years. Since they were long gone I approached Ludmila’s successors to study the paintings in her vast estate. There was only one hall to display a few pictures which had been left uncared for and unattended and I was allowed to go round solo. I handed over the picture explaining how the frame had collapsed. It was cast indifferently into a tray in the hall. The story of Dmitri and Ludmila as I have heard it is interesting:

Ludmila was the illegitimate issue of an Indian nawab or ruler who had bestowed large wealth on his mistress in British times. That was how Ludmila came to possess a large estate. She was educated in England where her talent at painting had been recognized and developed. She went to an art school in Paris and then started her painting career. It was while she was in Paris that she met the handsome young Russian painter Dmitri who specialized in painting portraits. In the then permissive world of artists and models, Ludmila and Dmitri came to live together.

Their life together was disturbed by the model Chantal who was the daughter of a woman of easy virtue. While Ludmila was quite charming and accomplished, Chantal was even more beautiful and who could pose nude. While Ludmila painted landscapes, Dmitri made portraits. One day he said “Mila, I’m painting Proserpina the goddess who can charm plants.”

“You must be painting Chantal in the nude.”

“Of course I’m. I’m making Chantal into Proserpina.”

When finished, the painting won great praise drawing Dmitri into the class of van Gogh. Ludmila didn’t approve of Dmitri mixing so closely with Chantal and used all her wiles to see that the model wouldn’t separate her from him. However Dmitri was handsome and young, and Chantal easily drew him into her web. The rift between Dmitri and Ludmila widened. To draw him away Ludmila proposed that they go to India to settle in her estate, but Dmitri was unwilling.

A few weeks later, there was a wordy exchange between Chantal and another at a bar and blows were exchanged. Following this, someone unknown, hit Chantal with a bottle on the head and she died soon after as medical assistance didn’t help.

Ludmila meanwhile made the acquaintance of an Indian painter named Tagore who pursued painting in Paris. He was a thin sallow man with a big moustache and he painted landscapes. His painting of a desert scene had made him famous among painters.

That night as they were in bed Dmitri said “Mila you’re moving very closely with Tagore.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ve told you Tagore is a puritan and shuns sex. He prefers the life of a celibate.”

“That doesn’t mean he can’t taste a piece of you in between.”

In her anger she slapped Dmitri and said “I belong to you. Tagore can’t even get a tiny morsel of me if he tried.” She paused and added “I’ve been telling you that we could go to India and settle in my estate. Both of us can paint there without interference of a Chantal or a Tagore.”

“Mila, I’ve also been telling you that my heart is set on going back to my village in Russia.”

“That’s a country with extreme weather conditions. Let us go to India instead. Now that we’re in bed, concentrate on satisfying me.”

He set about the task listlessly when she said “Dmitri, I think Chantal is still anchored in your brain.”

He didn’t respond but continued complying with her suggestion. However in a few weeks, she was able to persuade Dmitri to go to India, and they sailed together.

 Once in India he said “Mila, I don’t really know what to paint here.”

“You can paint Indian women in the nude. I can arrange for it. Of course they wouldn’t be of the Chantal class. I hate to even utter her name! Alternately you could paint Indian holy men and women. Then there’re snake charmers and opium eaters who could interest you as subjects.”

Dmitri said “Alright. I’ll start by painting a snake charmer.”

The subject was easily found, and in a few days the portrait was ready. It was sent to a show in Paris where it drew considerable praise.

Ludmila said “Dmitri I’m so envious of you. My paintings haven’t received as much praise as yours.”

“It doesn’t matter. Aren’t we together?”

“But you keep saying you want to go back to Russia.”

“Of course you could come with me. I’m prepared to leave at a moment’s notice.”

 She used her wiles and made him linger on.

It was at this stage that Ludmila took ill and she got Dmitri to stay on. She was treated by a young medical practitioner Kasim who considered it a privilege to be able to treat her. He did his best and Ludmila got better.

Dmitri said “Mila, my craving to be back in my village is overpowering. You’re now better. You could either go with me to Russia or allow me at least a vacation there.”

She knew he wouldn’t return if he went to Russia and reluctantly said “Okay Dmitri’ I’ll go with you.”

Dmitri was very pleased and set about making preparations to leave. Suddenly however apoplexy struck him and he was dead despite treatment by Kasim. Ludmila had him buried in their estate and planted a tombstone. Ludmila didn’t last long after Dmitri’s death. She left her property to successors stating in her will that paintings by her and Dmitri were to be kept on display in a hall thereon. After viewing the paintings I did see the burial sites of Ludmila and Dimtri which were side by side. I made several notes of the paintings and was satisfied I had enough material to compose a novel. Before that I decided to approach an Arabic scholar to get Ludmila’s script translated. He said “It reads like this: Guess who arranged to kill Chantal. Guess how Dmitri died! Kasim’s laudanum! That was the only way Dmitri could be prevented from getting away from me. It was Kasim who framed this landscape and photo.”

I have started working on the novel LUDMILA AND DMITRI. Wait for it!

END