|The Canvas (standard:non fiction, 2129 words)|
|Author: Amit Gupta||Added: Oct 11 2001||Views/Reads: 1945/1121||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|This story belongs to an artist Vibha. She lost her husband and started painting as a hobby. At the mean time she got famouse.Her assistant Vibhoor loves her. Vibha felt that she was alone in this world. What happend at last. Read the story.|
The Canvas By- Amit Gupta Vibha is an artist. A famous artist. Every one knows her. She is extremely beautiful with sharp features. Last month she painted a portrait of an old lady, from then on she got famous. Now she is 35, and still alone. Completely alone with her paintings. Surrounded by sad paintings. Vibha loves to paint sad paintings. But she always looks happy with a fresh smile on her face. A sweet smile. Vibhaís smile is mysterious. She used to laugh and read a joke daily. This was her daily routine. She is also a good cook. When she feels that she is not tired, then she cooks food for herself. Vibha has an assistant. His name is Vibhoor. He is more than her assistant. He loves her. Vibha also knows that. But she never let him know that she also loves him. This is her secret. Many times Vibhoor has asked her why she always paints sad paintings? After listening to this, she always laughs and then simply tells him that no one loves to watch happy paintings. Every person wants to decorate their homes with sad paintings, because they know that they are also sad, deep in their hearts. No one in this world wants happiness and joy. They are decaying and going to die. They canít afford to see joyful paintings.Vibhoor today asked her again. Vibha didnít reply. She fall on her easy chair and a lighted cigarette. She laughed. She laughed mysteriously. Vibhoor couldnít understand why she was laughing? He thought that she is going mad or she is sad. Completely sad. "Are you going mad Vibha?" He shouted. "Dear Iím not. You are going to be mad. Why do you always keep asking me this stupid question?" She took a puff. "I know Vibha that you are pretending. You keep smiling always, but you are sad. Why you are doing this? Why you are living two lives?" He also lighted a cigarette. "You want to know. Then listen. Iím alone. I have no friend. No one loves me. Cigarette and wine are my friends. They are my true friends. They never leave me alone. I love them." She was almost going to cry. There was a silence between them. The smoke was going to capture the room. Vibha lighted another cigarette. Vibhoor was watching her. He felt as if he is losing something. He made a drink for Vibha and said, "Can you become my friend?" "Why? We are just sex partners and nothing. We are enjoying each other. You know that Iím growing old and after a couple of years you will also leave me alone. You canít become my friend. You are just saying to console me. Thanks for that. Iím not interested in you. Why should you ruin your life for me?" She drank the wine. "I love you." He smiled. "What? Do you know what it means? You are stupid. Donít say any thing without thinking." Vibha laughed. "Iím not joking Vibha. Iím serious. I love you. I want to tell you that I fell in love when I saw you in your wedding reception. I love you. I love your sad paintings." He said desperately. There was soft music in the background. Vibhoor glanced at his watch. They still hadn't burned out their conversation. They knew they could never finish in one evening. Vibhoor said he had to leave. He arose. He felt himself unbalanced. He had too much to drink. "You can stay here." She said. "Why should I? You are not my..." Again he glanced his watch. "Ok. As you like. But if you are going, then don't come to meet me again. I..." She wanted to express her feelings, but withheld them. Vibha lost was in her past days. It was at her wedding reception that Vibha first met Vibhoor, her husbandís boss. It was a very brief encounter but it left an indelible impression on her- for Vibhoor was a man one could not forgot in a hurry. He was easily the most distinguished looking man at the gathering. Vibha was absolutely bowled over by his rugged good looks and his natural charm. But what was most striking about him were his eyes-turquoise green in colour, they mirrored Vibhoor's determination to get done whatever he wanted to do, at any cost.Vibha noticed that Vibhoor had an uncanny knack of making every women feel special. "I have never seen a more beautiful bride, Vibha," He said in his usual quiet voice. " Shiv is a very fortunate man. How I wish I had met you earlier than Shiv did." To Shiv he said, " All the best, Shiv. I am sure your married life will be full of pleasure and prosperity." When Vibha told Shiv that she had liked his boss, he was delighted. Shiv hero-worshipped Vibhoor and was simply fascinated by Vibhoorís legendary rags to riches story. Son of a primary school teacher in Chandigarh, Vibhoor had exactly five thousand rupees on him when he came to Mumbai with a degree in English literature. And within a matter of fifteen years he had built a vast publishing empire by sheer hard work and iron strong determination.Shiv was Vibhoorís blue-eyed boy. Vibhoor had made it clean on many an occasion that it was Shiv who would succeed him. Shiv could not have asked for more-a beautiful and loving wife, a satisfying job, a doting boss, Vibha was eager to meet Vibhoor. She had met him after her reception day. They often thought of calling him over for dinner but Vibhoor was busy.The second time that Vibha met Vibhoor was on the thirteenth day after Shivís death. His death came as a shock to Click here to read the rest of this story (94 more lines)
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