The Renaissance Artist

The irony is that it has been almost a year and a half. There are times when I feel that I have moved on. I KNOW that I have moved on. On the other hand, there are times when I feel like I’m stuck up at the same point in time, one and a half years ago. These moments are typically characterized by a sick feeling in the stomach, like the insides of my body are revolting, like a murderous psychopath is on a rampage inside the heart.. The world swims around in hazy black and white images…The irony is that these moments happen when i least expect them. Saw a picture in a newspaper today, which put me in flash back mode. The issue is that it does not feel like a flash back, instead it feels as real as the present. As if, it happened the same day morning. The pain is real, the guilt is real and the "blacking out" of everything else, is real too.

Like a tornado, that swiftly sweeps across the landscape and leaves as quickly as it came..And the aftermath is as bloody and the ruins are as visible.

But I guess that is part and parcel of the reality, I choose to create. Maybe it is due to the choice I make of wanting to experience pain, almost compulsively, akin to a South Indian tradition of deliberately placing a black dot on the infant’s cheek in order to ward off evil eyes. The concept being that the otherwise blemishless child would attract envious feelings of admiration from onlookers and hence it is considered important to showcase a flaw in an otherwise flawless visage.

I’ve repaid all my monetary dues. I enjoy my work and am respected at the workplace (I assume). I have found a lifelong passion. I have never felt healthier than I do nowadays. I have developed an unbreakable bond with my brother. I have started to connect with my parents like never before.

Overall, I lead a perfect life. Maybe, these moments are the “black spots” I have chosen to create, to prevent me from casting an evil eye on my own life. If so, then I guess, I’m one helluva artist!