My childhood comes flashing to me whenever it desires, for the innocence has no time table attached to its recall. As I stayed in chair the sunshine of my childhood lighted up my present. I did not feel the chasm that separated my childhood from my flowing present. The time has melted away with such vehemence yet the lived elements of childhood appear to be a just a touch away. I am in front of the canvas in my studio. I am mixing colours on the palette; the fierce intensity of orange is vibrating against the cerulean blue. The unspoken colours are having a dialogue of silence and explosive energy. Fathomless blue of sky, of endless golden landscapes, and resurgent cosmic energy of orange, fiery sun seem to be playing my childhood rhapsody. All this seems to stem from the little honey drops that dripped incessantly in my days of joy when life was an endless feast. This is the continuous churning of time that brings up sparkling diamonds of matchless beauty from the deep ocean of resurgent soul. It is these gleaned at will, lighted scraps of time through which soul resurges and creates oasis of beauty.
“Your coffee’, I hear Ruhi call in her singsong voice.
The aroma of south Indian coffee invades me. “Thank you darling,” I say almost caressing her through my voice. She takes a chair next to me as she surveys the painting.
“Dazzling energy oozing from the painting, celebrates the rose garden of life.”
“I am still working on it,” I say as I take her hands in mine, while my childhood still held its discourse going in whispers. She has such soft warm hands. I run my hand over hers, and I feel that I am caressing the jasmine branches that swayed happily in the courtyard of my house in the village. She leans over me in repose of contented thoughtlessness. I sip my coffee slowly. Ruhi's fragrance wafts alongside aroma of coffee and I put my arm around her, feeling her soft voluptuousness course through me. I recall the first time we had met in the vernisage of a friend’s exhibition.