The music of night....

The sun was almost back on the lap of the crimson-ochre horizon,while thin clouds adorned the turquoise sky.The speck of yellowish orange blurry light of the oil-lamps lit the dark room.I sat on the chair and closed my eyes.The serenity of the sweet smell of the tranquil evening was augmented when it blended with the fragrance of incense sticks.The aroma began spreading all over the house eulogizing the euphony of the three elongated, rhythmic, immaculate music of the conch shell,punctuated by the rhyming verses of the Bhagwad Gita-read aloud by a female voice.

"Dadababu,shall I send you tea now?"
A lean,old,spectacled man,wearing a vest and lungi stood at my door.The keeper of the forest bunglow.


The bunglow was a single-storeyed building,dilapidated in form,spider-webs hanging from every corner of the rooms;tall green trees encased the bunglow and a tiny pond at a corner.
I walked up to the terrace,which was not very high from the ground.Its parapet had grown green with the growth of climbers.
I knew I had made a good choice as the place had the perfect ambience I had been desiring for,to spend my weekend vacation in.


It grew dark with every passing minute and the night gradually filled the forest.The yellowish-green leaves began transforming into raw umber hue and then black.The pond was covered with moss,making it appear morbid.The moonlight seemed to dance on the water ripples.Feeling an urge to smoke,I lit a cigarette.

"Your tea is here.You were not in the room,so I came up here searching for you.It is not safe to move around in a forest bunglow without light by your side."
I identified the voice as the same voice reciting the holy scriptures.She was holding a lantern in one hand and my cup of tea in the other.Draped in a blackish-crimson saree,its one end covering her head,made her look older than she was;which I realised when she came closer.Without looking at me,she handed me the cup and placed the lantern on the parapet.
Her face glowed under the moonlight.Large kohl-smudged eyes.Locks of hair loosened free from the knot,falling on her face.A tiny stone-stud nose ornament glistened on her perfectly shaped nose.She looked beautiful even in her messy appearance.


"We sleep early here.So you will be served dinner within an hour."
She turned away and disappeared into the ivory darkness.The flame of the lantern flickered,blackening the glass case with its touch.



I had expected her to come and serve dinner.But this time it was the old man.
After dinner,I sat with my canvas and palette before the window.

The night had suddenly grown loquacious.Distant cries of nocturnals,soft rustles of the leaves and a mesmerizingly soothing sound of water flowing somewhere;colours on my palette and bold strokes on my canvas.Could I paint the assuaging music of the silent night on my canvas?

And Dream,with noiseless footsteps,like a noctambulist dawdled around in the night.


And again she made me euphoric with her intrusion.Narcotic like the quiet night,her sudden appearance almost drugged me into a phase of anxiety.
"So you are an artist by profession?"she asked,eying the painting.

"No.I do not economically depend on it." I replied,looking at her.She looked just the same like she had in the evening.Only her face looked sadder now.

Quite unsure of how I was to react to a lady's presence in my room,at this time of night,I however,asked her to sit on the bed,by my side.
She accepted only a part of my request and sat down on the floor.



The prussian blue sky somewhere blended with black,viridian hue or burnt sienna forest stretched over the pallid background and a still whiteness lurched over the landscape.And the intense, frenetic tremors of my heart under this anonymous,fanciful emotion first aroused? What colours would I paint them with?Exotic they were to the colours of my palette.

[to be contd...]