Painting Life

Durdana Bhat

Representational Photo. Pic courtesy: Web
Representational Photo. Pic courtesy: Web

Remaining was naught. As time blew over, memories were revived. As time went on, that wallowing crap center was rushing away into a great river. Then in bits, stream and then: nowhere to be found! In mettle, she tried to stand up, demand…

However, that bitterness was deported in a manner that she found that rushing and sheer water more assuasive.

Suddenly, this thought, why holding off? She replied, “I never inquired about the same.”

Hither, this and that, is just a show of being alive. At last, you learn to let go off those memories, which you really want to hold forever even knowing the fact: it could be a good show for you to remain alive.

Everything passes away, good and bad, but it’s you that has testament about that way of life which you want to follow. No matter how much suffering you went through, you were alive by then and, you are alive by now. But again, it’s you who has to decide that how you are going to live your life again. Will it be the saddest or the happiest?


Consumed, knocked, downed; but still, I can teach you, how to live. I have experienced enough.

But this query was questioned to fume and the answer was muddy.

This is how, it started – conversation.

Do you know what life teaches us? I asked.

In a reply someone told me, “I don’t need to learn it again.”

It was freezing winter. Snow was about to fall. The weather was gloomy. And then, in between, everything fell flat.

But after some time, I heard a fading voice: Can stone teach water whether to make its way through or to take a way of its own? And then, all bank, muted! The wind was letting out, hawing and distracting all the conversation.

While I was in brood, I quickly said to myself, don’t listen to that fading voice and keep in mind: Stones know how to stop the flow.

But, it was not advice.

At last, I ended the conversation saying, “Painters can paint their own life.”


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