He lay on his bed without a movement. Hungery. Thirsty. Completely exhausted after the day’s work. Another twelve hours of work, he felt, had gone in vain. He looked around his small cubicle-sized room in the no-more-than-2bhk flat. The golden resplendence of the bedside floor lamp gave him sanity after the tiresome day. Living alone is all-time jeered task after all! It was midnight and there was dead silence all around. The only thing he could hear was the siren of an ambulence which probably was in a bit too hurry. What was the point of greasing himself everyday, he wondered. Long left his passion for painting, he had come to Delhi for a financially secure lifestyle. It had been eleven months since he joined as an employee in a company. He compared the liveliness of the moment when he had successfully passed the inteview for the job with the present moment.

“Why am I doing this?”, he sighed. He twisted and turned on his bed, unable to sleep. The thought that he had to undergo another twelve hours of workload disturbed him. He twisted again. He turned again. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep again. Minutes later, he woke up panic-stricken as if he saw a nightmare. In a cold January night, sweat droplets formed on his forehead.

“Damn, what was that?” His head ached. He got up to drink water. In a random movement of the eyes, he saw a blank canvas by the window. There were paints and brushes in a small bag hanging on the wall from a nail. One doesn’t need a brighter spark to be successful! Indifferent to the next day’s excuse for not showing up in the office, he washed the pallate and the brushes of different numbers, squeezed colour tubes over it, sat on a chair and plunged into the vast ocean of his passion – painting.

It was three hours (and 14 months) after which he had completed a painting.

The next morning he woke up and checked the time: 9:32 AM. Obviously, in no circumstances could he make it to his office on time. He had to take a leave. He looked at his painting. His eyes had a twinkle in them. They spoke a thousand words. After all, it was the masterpiece he had waited to paint since he had developed interest in painting. Another idea struck him. He thought of putting the painting on public display.

Post an hour, and after several attempts to contact the manager of an art gallery, he went there. No sooner did his painting hit the wall (which was approved by the manager in one go), people started humming about the excellence of the painting.

The painting contained his father on the left, his mother on the right, and the poor orphan in the centre. You must be guessing why then was it so special. Here’s why. It contained a message too at the bottom:

Even though I lost you both when I was 1 day old, it feels as if it was just yesterday. I haven’t even seen you properly, forget remembering your faces. But then yesterday night something happened. Your image flashed before my eyes and I saw this empty canvas…. I had promised you (even though I hadn’t) that one day I’ll make you proud. See, it’s on display. Though you’re not here, but I know you are. You know what’s going in my head right now: I’ve decided to leave my job and follow my passion. 


Your little 1 day old 🙂


4 thoughts on “Will forms a Way

      1. I suggest, compile your ‘ Midnight Diaries’ in the form of book ! Will you give a thought to this ?


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