Monday, August 17, 2015

There is Nothing To Be Said.

Writing is an exercise of the mind and sometimes it even turns out okay. But like the day before, I fell short of words. I wanted to express, to note down, what I felt because there was so much crossing my mind but there was a lot of chaos. I could not even write a word. For the lack of them, I shut up completely. I just had this painting in my mind - not like I could actually paint it. There was this pair of lips on the lower left hand corner of the white canvas. From those lips came out rainbow coloured swirls, my hands spreading them further into the distance. There were stars admist them - colourless and black outlined ones. This painting was meant to depict everything. Everything. I wish I could say what I felt. It was so big and encompassing. It accommodated so much that it had to stop halfway for breath. And when it did so, it realized how exhausted it was from running off from everywhere and from everyone, that it just collapsed. The rainbow coloured swirl dissipated into nothingness, the stars stopped shining and disappeared and what the lips wanted to say went back to its dark place, buried under the ground where it belonged. And all this happened, the beautiful to-be painting faded, leaving behind no evidence except a frown on the usually smiling face. So inspite of its enormity, when someone asked what had happened, the only thing that was breathed was - 'There is nothing to be said.'

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