The Last Canvas
Only a few minutes remained for the event's inauguration, and Salman already stood welcoming at his exhibition stand. However, it was the fifth time he approached the walls and inspected if his canvases hung at an appealing geometry. One or two times, he instead tilted some, and, this time, he fixed them eventually.
Salman was indeed nervous. After having difficulty putting up some money, this was the first time he managed to put up an exhibition of his paintings on a prestigious platform like TARQ, Mumbai.
Visitors come. Look at the paintings on each stand. Visitors buy the paintings of Salman. All paintings are sold.
Meera comes late to the exhibition. Look for good paintings that are left. Calls out Salman. The eyes meet after a significant amount of time apart. Meera becomes a bit nervous and embarrassed. Salman keeps looking at her, distinctively amazed.
Salman, “Meera, you are here for this exhibition. Such a pleasant surprise. When did you come to Mumbai? You were in Switzerland, weren’t you.”
“Yes, I was. It’s been a month in Mumbai now. I needed some leisure, you know.”
“Leisure with paintings? Strange. As far as I know, Meera and paintings were poles apart. You hated paintings, didn’t you?”
“I am sorry, Salman. I shouldn’t have left you like that. After college, I was so engrossed in money that I was blind to all the beauties in the world…your paintings. Forget that. I have earned enough now; I now want some aesthetics. So I am visiting such art galleries and procuring some good paintings.”
Salman smiled and nodded. “Fair. But I am sold already. There are no paintings on the walls, as you can see. But yes, I have something for you.”
Salman promptly pulled out a canvas from one of the canvases that was strangely not hung on the wall and handed it to Meera. “This is all yours.”
“Oh, Salman. That’s so sweet of you. Thank you!”
Meera puts her hand inside her back. “How much would you take for this?”
“It is priceless. I mean to say it is not kept for sales.”
“Is this a joke? If you don’t have any good paintings, just let me know. I do not want to buy a poor painting. Take it back right away!”
“Calm down, Meera. At least have a look at the painting.”
Meera tears the wrappers around the canvases furiously. “Let me see what the hell you are selling me!” Showing the canvas onto Salman’s face, “You are selling me this! Literary, you mean this!”
“Come on, Meera. Look at the painting for once!”
“Oh god, save me from this poor thing!”
She turns the canvas to herself and finds nothing but herself.
It was a portrait of hers; perhaps Meera did not need a mirror anymore. For Salman, it was an attempt to portray the beauty he had always found in Meera. And here was Meera, who couldn’t lift her eyes off the painting for a second. Perhaps, she was taken aback by the masterpiece that mirrored her-self completely.
(Credit: DALL-E)
Salman was indeed nervous. After having difficulty putting up some money, this was the first time he managed to put up an exhibition of his paintings on a prestigious platform like TARQ, Mumbai.
Visitors come. Look at the paintings on each stand. Visitors buy the paintings of Salman. All paintings are sold.
Meera comes late to the exhibition. Look for good paintings that are left. Calls out Salman. The eyes meet after a significant amount of time apart. Meera becomes a bit nervous and embarrassed. Salman keeps looking at her, distinctively amazed.
Salman, “Meera, you are here for this exhibition. Such a pleasant surprise. When did you come to Mumbai? You were in Switzerland, weren’t you.”
“Yes, I was. It’s been a month in Mumbai now. I needed some leisure, you know.”
“Leisure with paintings? Strange. As far as I know, Meera and paintings were poles apart. You hated paintings, didn’t you?”
“I am sorry, Salman. I shouldn’t have left you like that. After college, I was so engrossed in money that I was blind to all the beauties in the world…your paintings. Forget that. I have earned enough now; I now want some aesthetics. So I am visiting such art galleries and procuring some good paintings.”
Salman smiled and nodded. “Fair. But I am sold already. There are no paintings on the walls, as you can see. But yes, I have something for you.”
Salman promptly pulled out a canvas from one of the canvases that was strangely not hung on the wall and handed it to Meera. “This is all yours.”
“Oh, Salman. That’s so sweet of you. Thank you!”
Meera puts her hand inside her back. “How much would you take for this?”
“It is priceless. I mean to say it is not kept for sales.”
“Is this a joke? If you don’t have any good paintings, just let me know. I do not want to buy a poor painting. Take it back right away!”
“Calm down, Meera. At least have a look at the painting.”
Meera tears the wrappers around the canvases furiously. “Let me see what the hell you are selling me!” Showing the canvas onto Salman’s face, “You are selling me this! Literary, you mean this!”
“Come on, Meera. Look at the painting for once!”
“Oh god, save me from this poor thing!”
She turns the canvas to herself and finds nothing but herself.
It was a portrait of hers; perhaps Meera did not need a mirror anymore. For Salman, it was an attempt to portray the beauty he had always found in Meera. And here was Meera, who couldn’t lift her eyes off the painting for a second. Perhaps, she was taken aback by the masterpiece that mirrored her-self completely.
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