It's close to three o'clock in the morning and Surendran is still in his studio at Sama-Saveli working. Three of my students are in the collective studio painting next door, and I was chewing my lip over a text I am currently writing to accompany a group show that originated from a ceramic workshop recently. Since the flow of my thoughts clogged up for a bit, I put aside that writing and thought I would blog instead, to let myself unwind.
I have always loved the nights as an artist. The absolute stillness of our home in contrast to the flurry of activity that streams through it during the day, is like a saved up present you open alone because you don't want to share it with anyone! Monkeys are sleeping on the ledges of our flat next door and as I peer at them through the mosquito mesh windows, their silhouettes look like Mughal drawings from the books in my library upstairs.
The air is faintly scented with the fragrance of myrrh from the incense I lit after dinner and Begum sleeps in a chair that she has colonised over the months, as her own. My green tea has grown cold but I still sip it, more from habit than desire! Though it's winter and there is a slight chill in the air, the fan above me whirrs at half speed to keep the mosquitoes from coming too close and cozying up to me. The sound of it is familiar and comforting for me and has hundreds of memories attached to it, that come alive in such moments of solitude.
Mithun's photograph stares back at me and I know that he is asleep right now, and safe for today.
The back gate has been opened and I can hear Surendran park his car.......
One day slips into the night and the night slips back into the day....
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