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It's beautiful

by Uttam Gill (writer), BOMBAY(MUMBAI), January 27, 2012

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For her rainbow is an uninvited piece of object, which undresses her mind and for him Its beautiful.

"Hello…is anyone here?” he calls loudly. No one answers but dust settles to score to establish place for existence. Acoustic display of his own feet marginalizes his call. No one has come here for long but he asks himself, why that door is left open. He was asked to come and he is here. The pretending silence at times, intends reasons to explore and he climbs up the stair. At the mezzanine floor he finds a door, half open. Reluctantly he pushes the door and the door opens with a slight squeak; he calls “Is anyone here?” Again, no one answers. He feels as if the house and things are lying there, collectively measuring his move, he is being watched, he knew. He is not alone; somebody is surely here.

Many niceties of life are believed to be kept concealed and to find such niceties, one need to travel through the mocking silence. And that’s what, he realizes, when he enters the room. Contrary to the griping silence of the house, this room gives him a pleasant surprise and first time, he feels the welcoming embrace. Every piece of furniture placed elegantly and the rainbow on a wall establishes a connection. Looking at that painting he smiles and murmurs “It’s beautiful.” “Oh! You like this room or painting?”… he turns back and finds a lady standing at the door. She asks again “You like this room or painting?” He is caught unaware and struggles to regain his composure but replies, “Oh! I am sorry, nobody was answering and I had no intention to walk into this room and I don’t know how I could walk up to this room... my due apology to you.” The lady laughs and says, “Why you have to say all this...I asked for you and I knew, you are coming and just be at ease. Welcome to my house, but yes, I must say, I am surprised at your urgency to meet the owner of this house, the owner who has called you. Do you really feel I own this house? I am sure the dust must have made you to rebuke the owner. I am the owner of this house and the dust keeps me happy...You don’t know how everyday, when I open the windows and when, sunlight seeps in, the dust welcomes my existence and in the dazzling display of dust, I see my own existence sparkling. Do you understand, what I mean? Or you just wish to be descent and refuse to answer, at my idiosyncrasy. It’s okay; you know why I called you. Yes, this is the painting which you are looking at, the painting of rainbow; I don’t think it fits well in my house...Look at the dust, even that too is not comfortable with it. I want to get rid of this rainbow. This rainbow is a piece of hallucinating object. It’s dead and it’s rotting here. Can you feel the smell? Do you see the colors, in there crying. This rainbow has fire in it and I know it is going to engulf me; I certainly don’t want that. Take this rainbow away. The marauding colors, every day and night taunt me, mocks at me. This rainbow is an uninvited piece of object, which undresses my mind, it yells at me. This rainbow is not my master, it is not my companion, it’s my history and I don’t read history, I refuse to. That’s all I have to say. Do you have any questions?” He politely answers back, “No Madame, but tell me when I can take this painting.” She shoots back..."Why not right now? Take this away....enough is enough, I don’t wish to see this rainbow, smearing me every day; take this away right now.

He wraps the painting and as he bundles the painting in his arms, he looks at the lady, for permission to leave and before he could ask even, she says, “Yes, you can leave now with this rainbow.”

He leaves the house...Clutching the painting to his chest; he is walking briskly, as if in hurry to reach home. He looks up and notices clouds invading the sky and he knew soon it’s going to rain. He hastens up his steps.

He is at his home. It’s raining heavily. He is drenched completely. He unwraps and looks at the painting for long. Not knowing, the rain has stopped. Sun light escapes through the cloud to seep into his room. With the kiss of the sunlight, the sparkling grain of dust on the painting picks up his attention and he sees the rainbow in painting dancing. He looks out and see rainbow in the sky dancing too. He holds the painting and says, “It’s beautiful”



About the Writer

Uttam Gill is a writer for BrooWaha. For more information, visit the writer's website.
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3 comments on It's beautiful

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By Betty B. on January 28, 2012 at 05:57 am

amen uttam

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By Uttam Gill on January 28, 2012 at 06:53 am

Amen...Thanks Betty

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By Anastasia on January 29, 2012 at 05:27 pm

You have a nice turn of phrase, Uttam. An expression like 'mocking silence' is worth remembering. I shall. :-)

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