That eve, when I decided to carry my canvas between my waist & arm, I left for the only place that gave me peace, well o be precise, which let me shut the world off. It was 6 p.m. I packed up my bag, cleaned and washed my palette and brushes, took some fresh paints and stuffed them into my bag. I tied my hair into a messy bun. Looked into the mirror- ” Gorgeous, all set.!”. I knew the landscape was bold, life looked fine to me.
The sky was perfect mingle-mangle of blue & fine touch of crimson red. They rays were reflecting the clouds with the sunset. I wanted to become a painter but wasn’t allowed due to obvious reasons. They wanted to see their daughter bloom into an engineer, doctor or scientist. They didn’t like to see me roam with canvas hanging on my shoulder & a bag with required art material, like a hippy, who paints any kind of scenic beauty wherever I found.
The phone kept on vibrating. Finally I picked up after managing to miss 6 calls. I didn’t want to hear the usual brag about why was I so careless about my safety, why I didn’t follow the rules of our house et cetera. I did the usual thing by saying that I would remember the next time.
It was getting dark. There were innumerable eyes upon me mainly because of my material I carried. Soon, I realized after walking a while, that I was being followed by a man. I took the other lane but was followed for another mile again. My blood was rushing into my nerves from the heart to my brain.
It was due to agitation and fright, I received a very sharp splash of the same liquid in that man’s hand. The liquid was burning as if I’ve been thrown into a bowl of fire. I felt blind, dumb, deaf, all at the same time. I collapsed soon. I didn’t know that if I will ever live.
It’s been a year now, after multiple surgeries & treatments I’ve survived.
But let me tell you, I’ve never lived. I’ve failed. And hence, I was punished.
I was punished because I was the victim to the descendents of patriarchal society. I was punished for the reasons I was still unaware of.
The one question that still haunts me day and night, weeks and days is: Why the face I admired the most has turned into a horror to many, but beauty to none?