Colours, contours, shades, lines, sketches on a canvas portraying the psyche of a new father who was once a painter.
The heaviness of the night clings to the air, enveloping the world in its fold. Familiar, wholesome and yet strange, very like you – the little bundle swaddled in blankets resting on my shoulders. You are a part of me and yet a stranger. My breath hitches and I pause my humming as the dark veil of the night lures me into its comforting arms. I crave to embrace and celebrate the darkness the way I did 7 years back. As the shadows lengthened, my hands and soul came alive. They respond well to the desolateness of the silent work, the abandonment of reality. They hold my hands and led me into a mythical world of unknowns – a journey of paints and canvas.
Tonight, the blackness of the night disturbed by the dancing curtains make my fingers itch. I want to reach for my long-abandoned sketchpad. I wanted to run my hands along the smooth alabaster paper, trying to make sense of my playground. I wanted to flip my fingers through the pages, with my nose hovering nearby to take in the pungent smell of paper, the swishing sound and that tiny gust of air cooling my face. Oh I crave for it! I want to feel pressure of the charcoal pencil against my finger pads and create. Velvety strokes and smudged contours, capturing the moment. Highlighting, contrasting, shadowing and contouring – in pewter, graphite, ash, slate, smoke, black and grey and white. The harried father walking around with a wiggly infant in his arms and the exhausted wife sleeping on the bed.
About the author : Vinitha Rajan is an Environmental Engineer, Mother, Writer, Sustainability and Climate Change Believer, Bibliomanic and Wanderer.