Perspective drawing for depth

The Old Man

He brooded for a while, staring at the newspaper, the old man. He was a painter. His paintings hung on the walls of every great museum of the world. These paintings left every beholder speechless, like they were caught in a time warp. No critic ever criticized his work, for every time they looked at his paintings, they got disposed in such a way that they started to believe that it's a sin to criticize them. They instead idolised the painter and worshiped him, they became his puppets. People of all types admired his paintings, the rich, the poor, the wise, the greedy, the lover of art, the not and what not. There was always a big multitude in front of his every painting. They would gaze at it in silence, there was something Godly about these paintings they thought. They thought, should his name die, it will die with the world. They called him 'God's painter'.

He brooded for a while, staring at the newspaper, the old man. His face was devoid of any sign of happiness, like it had long gone. He looked like he was wearied by life. He looked sad. They knew why, the people, the talkers, the blind lookers. The story had many versions. The story about his son. The son that was colour-blind. The son that was gone now. Some say that he ran away, ashamed to face the old man. Some say that he killed himself, ashamed to live. The most traveled version, the one that they preferred to believe, is that the old man killed his son. The son that couldn't paint.

He brooded for a while, staring at the news paper, the old man. The headline read "Have we found the rightful heir to the God's painter? - Young painter catches the public eye". The old man read the article below. He didn't look impressed. His face bore the same wearied look. The article spoke about a new-found talent that was making news in the country. It said that the young painter is the true heir of God's painter, for like the latter, he came from the ghetto too. It said, the best critics in the country find his paintings modern and yet flawless. It also said that 'God's painter', the old man had nothing to say about the young painter or his paintings, when questioned by the media. The young painter says that he is utterly hurt and disappointed that 'God's painter' had nothing to say about his paintings. He said, "Censure, i can handle, but not inattention". There was a picture of one of his paintings on the newspaper, the old man looked at it, he heaved a sigh and closed his eyes and relapsed into meditation.

The young painter

The young painter, whose paintings the critics acclaimed, was now the cynosure of all eyes and so were his paintings. He was all over the news. Riches came to him. The rich desired his paintings to be hung on the walls of their fashionable houses. They couldn't make head or tail out of his paintings but they were ready to pay anything for it and they did. They claimed that they could understand his paintings. They claimed that his paintings brought in peace and good fortune. They said, "These paintings are divine, straight from the heaven. The old man is too proud to embrace the vernal painter". 'Bloody phonies', thought the old man. But he said nothing, he never said much.

The young painter regarded the white canvas in front of him thoughtfully. He needed to paint, his masterpiece. He dropped the brush that he was holding, he is not going to need it for what he was going to do. He dowsed his hand in paint from a jar and sloshed the dripping hand on the canvas, producing a splodge and tiny spots of paint around it. He dipped his hand in a different jar and sloshed, another splodge. He needed more colors on the canvas, and he supplied. Now, he rubbed the sheet with his palm to smear the colors into one another. His strokes were crude, but crude is what makes a masterpiece he told himself. He daubed some more colors on what was to become the masterpiece.

Word spread that the young painter was painting his masterpiece. In no time, it brought in to the country, the art lovers, the rich and the critics in multitudes. They were eager to get a glimpse of the masterpiece. There were buyers already, that approached the young painter, offering a fortune for that painting. The painter dismissed them all. He said "The painting awaits glory, glory that will last for eternity. But glory, and glory it will be only when bestowed upon by the righteous person, the rightful person, the God's painter. And after that, the painting will be so precious that God couldn't afford it".

The grand gathering

The day arrived, the day on which the masterpiece will be unveiled. The hype had been built and the world was waiting, hoping to get a peek of this glamourous piece. There was a huge crowd in front of the gallery. The huge hall couldn't accommodate the crowd. The people did not mind, they waited outside patiently. They were content, just to witness the grandeur of the gathering. They were content, just to be a part of what will go on to become history. The streets and roads on the other parts of the country were empty. The shops were shut and so were the offices and the schools. The huge hall was occupied mainly by the rich and the ones that could afford it. And of course, there were the critics, in the front.

The painting was there, in the front, on a specially sculpted marble pedestal. The painting was hidden behind the drapery. The young painter was standing next to the painting. He looked elated, but he will wait. The crowd inside the huge hall was a little unsettled. They couldn't wait to see the painting. But, the young painter had to see the old man before he could unveil the painting. He waited patiently, he had all the time in the world. Suddenly, a rustle rippled across the audience. God's painter had come. Many whistled and hooted. He walked to the front. He looked at the young painter gravely and the young painter held his stare for a little, gravely too. The young painter offered the old man the switch to the drapery. They never spoke.

The crowd grew restless and the hoots grew louder. The old man turned to the crowd, he raised his hand gesturing them to calm down. The crowd obeyed. There was utter silence. The old man pushed the switch, the drape slid away to reveal the painting. The crowd witnessed it,  there was utter quietness. They couldn't tell what they felt, they were still, unsure if they liked it. But their eyes were glued to the painting. The old man stared at it gravely. He stared for a while. The crowd was still, as though time stood still. The old man turned to the crowd. He still looked grave, the young painter gulped. The old man said

"This is art itself" he paused for it to sink in, and continued "This work of creativity could not have been done by any, other than the greatest." he held the hand of the young painter and hailed it and continued "This hand, is the hand of God. And this man here, the creator of the painting that's nothing short of a genius' work, is God himself" and he smiled at the crowd.

The crowd roared in applause and stood there applauding and cheering for what seemed like infinity. The young painter waved at the crowd triumphantly. The old man stood there smiling. He had to smile, he knew. And he turned to the young painter and the dude looked. They smiled at each other for a bit and the old man offered a hug, with his arms wide open, the old man embraced the painter. The painter held him tight, he was crying, he couldn't stop it and the old man whispered into his ears

"Son, you can never paint. But, what you have painted, and what you will paint, will be painted by every painter to come. Your name will die with the world"

"Thank you father" said the son, tears were rolling down his cheeks. "Thank you father!"

"Anything for my son" said the father.

The always useful pouch

He brooded for a while after the phone call, it was a blow, like a disappointment that you fear is likely to come, yet there's little hope, and it comes anyway. He was a writer. He didn't make a big living out of it, but he survived. He used to write under the pen-name 'the freeman' for a weekly magazine but that was shut down owing to insufficient turnover. So, now he wanted to publish his works, and had met with umpteen publishers and all turned him down. There was this one guy from a certain publishing house that seemed a trifle interested, but now the news from the phone call is that he couldn't convince the board to approve it and that he was sorry.

He felt numb, he was too disappointed to feel disappointed. He had crossed the point to feel sad or angry or hurt. All that he felt now was emptiness. He used to be a believer, a lover of life and he always believed that no good or bad lasts forever and that change will always come. This thought drove him to enjoy both joy and sorrow, which in turn made him write. He wrote about poverty mainly, about the strength and determination of the poor and how they strive to live, pushing through the obstacles of life and yet how they also find happiness in their way, and how when they look back in retrospect feel the completeness of a life thoroughly lived. He now had nothing to believe in and there seemed no hope or it seemed too far away, out of sight, the phone call came as the last straw. He could have broken down into tears for a word of comfort or sympathy from someone but there was no one for him. He could have cried just to feel better but instead he decided to die.

He decided that, not because he was a coward or because he's given up, he felt that he had nothing to give up, he felt, an obstacle or a problem he can overcome but not the nothingness. He planned to take sleeping pills, one by one, leaving a gap between each, so that he could first fall asleep and die in his sleep, without feeling any pain. So, he kept the pills ready in front of him, he felt no fear or agitation at the thought of dying. He swallowed a pill and waited for it to take effect. He waited patiently, he felt no signs of drowsiness after he waited for about half hour and he took another pill. He still waited when the door bell rang. He answered it, it was a sales guy peddling dictionaries and encyclopedias. He usually never entertained any sales guy, but today was a little unusual as he was going to die. So he let him in, talking with him might put him to sleep, he thought.

"Hallo sir, how are you today?"

"Well, i was about to die"

"Ha ha, funny. Now sir, what i got here are some of the most useful books ever published, and good ones like these are hard to come by at the shops and even if you do the prices are way too high, but that's alright sir because today is your lucky day as there's a huge discount on the already humble price and on every single book it is"

"How much for the encyclopedia?" the writer said

"Well sir, i invite you to have a look first because .."

"How much?" the writer interrupted tersely

"500 rupees sir"

"And the dictionary?"

"300, sir, for the big one and there are small ones too"

"I'll buy two in each, the encyclopedia and the dictionary, the big ones"

"Very good sir, it's a very neat idea to gift these to a friend sir"

"Just leave them on the table, I'll go bring the money" he disappeared into a room. He went to get the last of the little money he had saved in the past. He is not going to need them where he's going to go. When he came back the sales guy was curiously looking into the bookshelf and the writer said

"Here's your money, you can leave now"

The sales boy seemed absorbed into the bookshelf and the writer said

"Your money's here"

The boy turned and said "Yes, of course sir, nice books you have got there sir, and of course a collection of 'The Peasant', you must have been a subscriber"

"No, i used to get those copies for free, i used to write for it"

"Oh, interesting, what did you write sir? It's a shame though they had to close down, i was a fan and it still kills me to think that i couldn't read the end of 'Heaven is here', what a tale?, you've ever read it sir?"

"No, not really, but i wrote it"

"You got to be kidding sir, you didn't write it?" said the boy in disbelief

"I'm afraid i did"

"You couldn't possibly be 'The freeman', he must be a lot richer than you are"

"Well, i don't know what to say to that, but i happen to be 'the freeman' when i write" the writer said

"That's the biggest surprise I've ever known, it's a privilege to be talking to you sir. You don't happen to have the last episodes of 'Heaven is here' by any chance do you?" he said looking excited

"Well, i do I'm afraid, I've got the manuscript, not very legible though" he pulled out a bunch of papers from the shelf and said "You can go through it if you like, here and do take a seat"

"That's an honour Mr. Freeman, thank you, this turns out to be my jackpot day" saying that he sat down and started reading it. The writer waited patiently for the guy to finish it. The boy looked engrossed in the story. He didn't blink an eye before he read the end of the story. He then looked up at the writer looking ecstatic like his dream had come true and said

"So the depression ends, What a fabulous ending, couldn't have been any better, it was terrific sir"

"Thank you, i'm glad you liked it" said the writer and he meant it

Then, the guy told about himself, he was a student and his salesman job was part-time. It turns out he was a small time writer, and he'd written essays and short stories for his college magazine. They spoke for a while about themselves and the rest. Then the boy realized he had to go and said

"I guess i should go now sir, a lot more houses to do before i can head home"

"yes, yes, of course" said the writer

"So will that be all sir? 2 copies of each"

"Ah, well, let me think now, i won't need any to tell the truth but i'll buy one copy each though" said the writer with a smile

"Whatever you like sir"

The boy bid farewell to the writer after thanking him and all that. The boy paused for a moment at the door and turned to the writer and said

"Would you like to get a drink this weekend sir, it will be on me. I figure that's the least i could do, you see"

The writer thought for a second and said "yes, of course, why not"

And later that night the writer slept really well.

Shuffle all

It was a dull night or so it seemed, it could have been otherwise also but that's got no relevance to what I'm about to narrate, so it doesn't really matter. The events that transpired that night were of great significance in my life. That night was when i got to drive a car on proper roads in the middle of some traffic after I'd got my real driver's license. The drive was so exhilarating that i wouldn't forget for a lifetime. It was by chance that i got to drive that night.

Earlier that day came the exam results, I'd failed in quite a few subjects and passed in a few too, which was about what I'd expected so that didn't worry me much. A friend had failed in all so i wasn't the kid that studied the least, not like that made me feel better but just so i give a proper picture. A friend had passed all subjects, and there were friends of other types too, so we were a mixed bunch as far as results were concerned. The results this time around had a different vibe, for this was our final semester and officially college was over for us, of course we were going to stick around a little longer until we cleared all our pending papers, yet there was a sense of sadness. I felt it a little stronger than the others or so i thought because i was in love. This girl of my heart, to my regret, had passed all subjects, so typical. Her name was Narmada, she was a nice girl, a good dancer and very popular, especially with the guys. She was probably the girl of many hearts and there were probably sadder souls that day. But that didn't dampen my spirits because she wasn't easy and i was popular too, with the girls especially, i was a 'hunk' and i played football and was good at it too. And girls simply dug guys like me.

I always was under the impression that i could get any girl that i wanted but that was once damaged a little. It was about a year ago, i decided to tell her that i liked her. Then i barely knew her, yet i walked to her, she was with a bunch of other girls and most of them looked at me, except her, so i had to call her by her name and she turned sipping coffee from the cup, and man, she was a looker.

"yes" she said

I was afraid that i might get nervous and this in turn made me nervous, though this was triggered by a different stimulus, it felt the same and what it made me was about the same too and it kept building.

"Can i speak to you alone for a second" i said with some difficulty

"what about?"

"It's kinda personal and I'm a bit conscious with your friends around you see"

"OK, gimme a second" she said and turned to her friends and said something i couldn't hear and came to me and she did it so neatly. We walked away from her friends and as i was contemplating ways to tell her, she said

"You're not gonna propose, are you?"

I got a heart attack. I felt faint, i wished i was not there, i wished i could disappear. I gulped a bit and said

"No, no of course not, why would i do that, i mean, what are you talking about" i said trying to look confused and looking like i needed to take a piss

"That's a relief, cos guys typically do that, you see. I used to like that at first, it was fun but now i'm sick of it, it's kinda boring too"

"Really, that's crazy, I'm surprised, do they what, just walk to you and propose"

"Sure, many do that and some try to chat me up and all that, some try to be friends with me. But all ending up at the same spot"

"Crazy, funny the things guys can do for girls"

"Funny in a way yes, but also annoying sometimes. And what is it that you wanted to say?"

"oh that, yes, i almost forgot, ah, and now i don't seem to remember. what was it? You have any idea? I mean what could it be, i have such a bad memory, i'm sorry" i spluttered.

"What?"

"That's right, what? Yes, of course i know now, how can i forget, dance, that's right, i wanted to learn dance and wasn't sure how to go about it, there, you see?" i said, a little relieved that came just in time.

She thought for a bit and said "Oh, you're looking for a dance tutor? Ok, i don't go for classes you see, and i don't really know anyone that can teach"

"Oh i see, alright, that's alright, i'm mean it's ok, absolutely, not like i was very keen anyway, just a thought, that's all, and now looking at you i've changed my mind, i mean, you're so thin just like how a dancer should be and that long hair, i mean it looks great on you when you dance, i mean it's all perfect for you. I mean it's totally alright with me, i'm fine, and thank you, thank you very much. i guess football is more my speed." i said stupidly.

"oh, ok. Whatever you say" she said looking amused.

"Ok, thanks a lot, i'll see you, bye" i said

"Ok, bye" she said and walked away. I stood there for a moment feeling utterly stupid. So, since then i'd developed a huge feeling for Narmada and was totally smitten by her, lovelorn and all that.

So i worshiped her for the next whole year. I would go to every cultural show that she danced in. I would get those DVDs if possible and watch her dance. I would listen to the songs that she danced to, even try to memorize them. I'd even watched some random people dance only because they were dancing to the songs that Narmada once danced to. I would call her in the evening just to hear her speak until she hung up. The bottom line is i did every crazy thing that a guy in love would do.

I would wait for her to come, in the canteen, and buy the same stuff she bought. I would gaze at her throughout the time she ate. I would look away if she looked, sometimes i'd continue to stare, and she'd look away. I'd wait for her in the corridor outside her class just before it ended, and when she came i'd stare. At first, she used to smile at me and i'd smile too, sheepishly, but sensing the habit she stopped smiling and she started avoiding me quite evidently or sometimes she would stare back coldly which i found very endearing and i would stare still colder. Sometimes she would get in the middle of the bunch that comes out first and slide away chatting with a friend. Nothing mattered to me as long as i saw her everyday and i was happy living that way.

I could have easily been in talking terms with her after the first time i spoke with her and i might have even got her to like me and all that but i never found that very romantic, also i'd never do that after what she'd said about guys that do that. I liked the coldness that had developed between us, i found it very attractive and there was something wild about it, something that turned me on. I was hoping she felt the same way. Towards the end of the year i kept getting this funny feeling that she felt the same way too. And this feeling grew stronger, nothing obvious from the way she behaved but there were certain subtleties that i couldn't describe or clearly sense.

As my final days in college were counting down i started getting a little restless. Often i'd decided that it was time i told her but i could never tell her. There was something about her that scared me a bit, her calm demeanor, her composure or maybe her ego, now i was getting scared of everything about her that i used to like about her. Perhaps, i was scared of failure, failure i couldn't bear i knew. As days went, fear was replaced by despair, and there were times when i'd lost hope too.

So, after exams, exams that i did terribly, i thought about everything and i kept wondering what might've happened had i told her earlier, i'd keep picturing different possibilities in my head. Running the same version over and over, running a different version, losing sleep, sleeping half awake and all that. But, one thing i kept telling myself everyday, that was a decision i made, i decided to tell her on the day of results no matter what.

So, after checking the results. I waited in the corridor from the lobby where the results were published, i waited for a while. A little later at the other end of the corridor i could see Narmada and her friends coming, i stood straight feeling nervous and desperate. As they came closer, their conversations sounded hushed and giggly, i fixed my gaze on Narmada, prepared to meet the familiar cold stare. But this time she didn't look at me, she looked flustered and for a second i thought she was blushing. I gulped and allowed my gaze to follow her. At about the end of the corridor she slid away from her friends and laid her bag on the ledge and scribbled something on a piece of paper, left it there and walked away after glancing at me. I ran there and grabbed the note, it read

"Meet me here the same time tomorrow."

I couldn't stop smiling, i was grinning from ear to ear like a looney. I merrily trotted to my friends and flaunted that note and all that. They teased me for a bit and that's it, because they were a little excited about that night's booze meet, being the last day and all that. Even otherwise we'd drink because we had nothing else to do. I was at the top of the world since i got that note which was all the more reason to drink. That night seemed to promise a lot of fun, we had a car, the money we'd pooled was ample, not to mention the girls that'd show up at the fashionable pub we were going to goto, reputed for that type of crowd.

A friend managed to bring the car that he'd promised he'd. So i and my friends squeezed into the car and drove away. The pub was neat in my opinion, truly up to it's reputation, holding a tidy crowd with the prettiest and the dumbest girls in the city. We got drunk slowly, talking of this and that. The music was great and loud, we had to shout at the top of our voices if we had something to say, and everyone had something to say every second, so we all were shouting at one another, a deaf beholder might think we were fighting, from the look on our faces. It was almost midnight when we came out of the pub. We were drunk like hell that it felt like we were filled with alcohol head to toe. My friend said he was too drunk to drive. He wanted me to drive, i was too drunk too, but i wanted to drive, it's the type of feeling that one gets right after getting a driver's license, that blunts ones senses. So i took the drivers seat, and drove. The vehicle was a lot better than the one in which i'd learned to drive, this was much easier to maneuver and everything was smooth. I drove for a while, neatly overtaking the few vehicles there were. A little later the road was empty and i revved all the way up to the top, everything that went past us seemed so surreal, my friends were cheering me and i could sense the alcohol weighing down my head. I reminded myself to maintain steady and i did. Just as i turned to the left at the end of that road, four or more cops came out of nowhere to block the car. A friend shouted

"Don't stop, keep going, keep going"

So i abruptly slid to the extreme right of the road and revved, to go past all the policemen. I sped along crazily and to my horror i could see a cop chasing behind on a bike. I revved still, it felt like the whole world was whirling into my head. I heard a friend laugh out loud "Ha Ha Ha", he kept laughing hysterically or so it seemed. I heard the sound of siren from the cop's bike, the sound grew louder and louder, it felt like a thousand cops were chasing from every direction. The laughing grew louder too, it was like a crazy dream. Suddenly, the sounds attenuated like i'd gone deaf. The laughing seemed to fade inside my head, the sound of the siren seemed to fade inside. The streetlights seemed like they were blinding my vision, or it wasn't the streetlights, it was probably another car from the opposite direction. I tried to adjust my vision, i could see that the road was turning to the right into the bridge, i wasn't sure if the speed was ok to turn but i had no option and i turned the wheel all the way to the right and the car did remarkably well and turned, but apparently the left tire hit the curb on the left and the car was airborne for a bit until the rear-wheels hit the bridge wall and the bottom of the car hit the outside of the bridge wall with a bang and the car was plummeting down like a jet, everything around us seemed like a dream and i still heard my friend laughing "Ha ha ha", i for a moment thought it was some kind of a really funny joke or maybe a crazy dream. Suddenly the car hit the ground with a huge thud and i........

And he died. So, don't drink and drive. Funny? No?