Amrit Lal

Dead, so deadly

"And the painting goes to Raja Amrit Lal !" - Said the auctioneer. 

That's how the bazaar decided the fate of the painter. His day of turmoil, struggle, blood-letting, living with growing pain at last has been sold. The King Amrit holds the painting with smile. The canvas shows the scenery of a village at the drop of a mountain where a few of mud-based housesare scattered in the greenery. A kaccha road fades along with countrymen walking,  a pair native is making love on the top of a bullock cart. The King invites the artist to his Palace as a guest. This is a majestic honor for his painting, so artist comes as just like buy one get one free. 

"How much big is the Palace?" - Asked the artiest.

He stood the entrance of the house of the king. King lives in the palace surrounded by five hills and a river passing by. They are huge buildings made of marbles, there are more rooms though there is no person to say. There is a big kitchen, a lots of food, drinks, chefs in white coat. The rooms are scented, windows are made of see-through glass, if you peep it through, you can view the peak of the mountain. 

"It is really picturesque!" - Said the cameraman passing by.

The camera clicked and those become royal content and history. People read, made comments, liked and kept in memories. There is no such value can explain the worth of a painting of the artist, the traversal path of his thought-stream & backtracking is not tangible. The valuable things are envy to neighbor states, the King knows the fact. He flaunts his wealth and heroism at the display and disposals.

"Wow! What a beauty! " - Said the traveler.

Here is only the canvas which remains with the face of countrymen, villagers. Eventually story of people who survived centuries without the help of a king. The countrymen grew paddies, vegetables & animals. Some days are bright and some are not. The hamlet was up to it with be marvelous natural beauties. The color was thrown sunlight and it broke into rainbows. The king proposed a good day, advocated a new millennium. In the countryside, there is a large property called the castle and a small river murmurs there with picturesque scenery and every traveler said 'wow…'

"Days are dead!" - Said the artist.

These are an unordered set of stockholders. They have more subjects to buy and the world looks like a dead market. The lights are the catalyst to death. Money is like a contagious virus. They are themselves dead and still infect and replicate. With infection, people run and ferociously run where they do not have time. they cannot stop by to a stream where a wave rides, they can’t afford to see when the wave falls in the deep just to discover sign look like a sine wave!! 

"So, what exactly a king does with a painting? " - Asked by the citizen. 

Okay, his majesty hangs it on a wall of his courtroom. Taxpayers from nearby villages pour in daylight to see the collection of King. It is a big hall with a wide wall where the portrait of his ancestors is living their eternal life. Are they live? or dead? King smiles & camera flushes. But it is a matter of life and life beyond life for an artist. It is merely food, clothes, money, family, the fame that drives him to the human body. He wanted to live in a stroke of the brush, a touch of his brush and his own stream of thoughts flows among between the hills where a wave becomes wider than its width. 

"So, here nights are more eventful" – Wrote the poet.

As night are dark & it falls when all villager went back to hillside, the moon has appeared up on the top of the world, and the house of the power the King sleeps. The color rolls back to time series, the thought stream refolds back, the story unveils. The couple from canvas comes out from the painting, the seat in the throne, strolls on the court with hand in hand. They make love and throw a kiss to all painting’s ancestors of the King. All of a sudden the dead people from their painting come into life, they started to blink and smile. They come down from wall to floor of the courtroom. They bless the couple who was making love in darkest of the moment of the night. No traveler is nearby,  not visitors are nearby, no court man ordering any trials and more importantly the power the power the King himself is in deep sleep. 

"Dead, so deadly"  

The artist himself colud not believe this; he was only convinced that it is just another day has arisen from the deepest form of the east. These days are good-days but not necessarily subjected to countrymen on the canvas. Days are just proposed by the most-have, practiced by may-have and believed by have-not. The story on canvas remains dead and pre-judiciously remains more deadly.