A White Canvas


As a kid, people always found Kush interesting, they found him a little different, and in a way Kush loved it. He always wanted that bit of uniqueness to be tagged to him, and needless to say he consciously worked on it.  

Kush, one day had an interesting project for himself, his signature, he wanted to develop one which he would use on cheques and letters when he grew up, he wanted his signature to stand out, something out of the ordinary you know, he started practicing, he came up with many forms, but thought they were ordinary. he wanted that extra special twist, and finally he framed an artistic K, with two dots below, something no one can come up with, something his very own.

Teenage and peer pressures hardly had an effect on him, in fact it did, but in the reverse way, it made him choose paths unthinkable to his peers. When there was a mad rush to get into professional courses, scoring as much to get into a good college, he chose a lesser known path, painting. He began painting as an hobby, and soon it began taking all his time. He loved how much he contributed to his own creativity, and how different and unique it felt when compared to other paintings around him. He began investing more time, and thought of making this career, and infact he did not care if painting counted as a career, but he had found what he wanted to do.
Kush who had started as an amateur painter, began developing skills which he never imagined, the paintings started to express things in a spectacular way, with colors no one used, with depictions hardly ever seen. Something which made his style of painting extra ordinary. People began liking his edge and even suggested him to arrange an exhibition. At 19, he had his first exhibition,  something which  was conceived and planned totally by him, everything about the exhibition stood out, the huge dark gloomy welcome signs, or the single exhibit concept he came up with, where a big room would have a single piece waiting to be explored by the onlooker behind the closed doors. He was an instant hit, his paintings sold within seconds, with bids raking in huge moolah. 

Kush, over months became a revelation in the art world, his unique use of colors and moods made his paintings stand out everywhere. Anybody could recognize his work without any tags, but still he did not let his old effort go waste, he began to sign his paintings with the interesting K he had come up with. It had become his signature, in a true sense.

His quest for uniqueness didn’t stop at his profession, his personal life too was filled with ideas and plans, to make his life more interesting and unique, Kush never believed in marriage, or any social norms, he wanted to be the outlaw, he first fell in love with a single mother about ten years older to him, within no time, they decided to move in together, he truly loved her, and she was in love too. He knew the topic of marriage would come up some day, and in a way he expected that it would be soon. He was surprised it took more than five years for the topic to come up, the stern guy he was with his ideologies, he refused, she was left with no choice but to move out. For the first time Kush felt real rage in his life.
He wanted to bring this out on canvas, he took a white canvas, and started venting his rage on to the painting, at the end of three hours he had a red canvas, a canvas with shades of red, In a way showing every frustration he had had over time, the things he was angry with himself for, every silly move of his which had come back to trouble him on days he had been alone. He had a look at the piece, and felt this was his worst work till date, nothing more than the mixing palette he had in his hands. He couldn’t believe he had created something so common. He wanted the piece to be out of sight, he took the painting and threw it behind the stack of old canvases up in the attic.

 Kush was back being single, and he enjoyed his new single status in every possible way he could, dinner dates, and sleepovers was now common, I guess he never considered what he had lost, or more importantly what he wanted. Days passed by, he developed a habit of going on long evening walks. He would walk down the beachside, or even busy streets for hours, just thinking and enjoying his company. One day he came across a children’s park, and he loved the sight. He entered the park and sat on a park bench, observing kids. It soon became part of his evening routine, where he would just visit and look at kids. Once when he was in a the middle of a painting, suddenly his thoughts drifted to those days back with her, the greener pastures from the days gone buy, the kids in the park, the greenery, and without him realizing the canvas turned into an absolute green one, shades of green just like his mind. It had him in splits, did it indicate his envy, or the calmness. He did not want to think, nor wanted it to affect his usual style. So he found the best place for it, the attic. Right behind the red one he had painted few years back.

 Years flew past, woman after another, painting after painting, life just flew in front of his own eyes. Only two things survived the years, his paintings and his long walks. Today as he walks past with his stick to his side, and almost the same attitude he once possessed, one can almost see the stubbornness. I guess one can choose to call it as his determination too. He walked past a beautiful sunset, the sky had turned orange in the twilight, just like the vibrant orange he had used in numerous of his paintings, for a second he could frame a canvas through his eyes onto the sky. He had no clue, that the sight would somehow find his way into his canvas the very next day. An Orange canvas, with shades ranging from the dull and pale, to the vibrant and shocking streaks. 

 This time he wanted to analyze, he wanted to find out what the  painting stood for, why he had painted something so common, something which has none of his style, something he would never want to claim as his own. Suddenly he remembered the other two sitting somewhere on the attic, he got his servant to bring them down, and there had all three of them, side by side, shades of red, Green and Orange.  Standing there, looking at these paintings Kush felt an amazing uniqueness and satisfaction which he had never felt before, he had finally come up with the subject for his masterpiece. 

 He took out his canvas, and began painting every possible incident he could remember about his life, people he loved, people he missed, things he chose to ignore, thinks he loved. Every thing he could think of. It almost took him an year to fill the canvas until, he had nothing more left that he would want to fill. Finally he took a long clean brush, and painted over the filled canvas, a sheer white. There he had his masterpiece, a perfectly white one, the way he wanted his life to be, the way he wanted his painting to be.

Prats over at Retrospections! Emotional ecology……Tagged me here . I was supposed to come with a story with color I like, and I chose not one but many which I like.


11 responses »

  1. A perfect white canvas, his masterpiece! I got now. Seems to me, beginning never meets end, beinning always meet beginning only. Is our life not a masterpiece, a perfect white canvas, where each color is blended perfectly to give whiteness to life.
    Exquisite write and just loved the end of this story!

  2. That was a brilliant amalgamation of colors and emotions. Liked the way you’ve brought out the rages and simplicity in his needs too….
    I’m glad I tagged you on this…
    You’ve done a great job.

  3. that was brilliant indeed. it was just amazingly written.
    the white canvas the masterpeice. the end was super….
    I could imagine thecanvas’s in my head. somehow I just keep reading the end again and again.

  4. Wow rambler This is a really amazing story. You are becoming a great writer.’
    So much expression detail and so realistic A story with so much depth and things to ponder. I enjoyed every bit of it.

  5. very good story…

    yeah we all play with colors in life, but what we all seek is, just like the perfect white, filled with satisfaction.

    I enjoyed every words..

  6. Neilina,
    Actually beginning does not meet the beginning, I guess you could see the same thing in two different ways, beginning meets the beginning, or the end does appear a lot like beginning.

    Thanks Autumn, Winnie, Sameera

    Thanks prats for the brilliant tag..liked doing it a lot.

    Pri..it is indeed isn’t it?

    Preethi, the colors do end up blended don’t they?

    BB..what did you like about the ending?..I had many things hidden in the story..just wondering if any of you guys thought in the same direction,

    Thanks Marja

    Thanks Dark night

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