A portrait of a woman hung in my room at home
earlier in my childhood I thought it was a real painted portrait, I thought maybe we are rich, only rich people are crazy enough to spend on paintings for their houses, but I outgrew the belief, not of the parallel relationship between money and paintings at home but that we are rich. We are not, I know this now because that painting is not real, it’s not even a painting, it’s a printed photograph on a frame of the painting. Everyday, I’ll wake up to the lady in a lehnga sitting at a distance with her legs crossed, in a palanquin; by Kangra Bride by Sobha Singh. As I take the portrait down in my hand, the bride seems old, I mean a little older for a wedding on a painting, she’s got wrinkles on her skin. My mother almost looks similar to the woman in painting. I never knew my mother’s face is so art-worthy, but why did the artist not create her young?
When I asked my mother about the portrait, she said, “Your father gifted it on our wedding”. She treasures out an old wedding photo album, ending with the photo of my parents dressed as groom and bride, smiling while my father gifts the portrait of a bride to his bride but the woman in the portrait is smiling and young, in a palanquin with no wrinkles at all, just like my mother in the photograph, unlike now.
Shaurya Pathania enjoys food, poetry and sports. He is currently donning his flip-flops, to make him wear his shoes you can send an invitation @shauryapathani4 on Twitter.
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