Smriti

Chapter-5

Ekaksh prohibited anyone from entering his chamber or calling him out unless it was a warlike situation or someone was dying. Only Siddhi could go in and out of his room.

"I bet, sundari didi will be so happy once she sees this," Siddhi said, swinging her legs down Ekaksh's bed, the floor too far from her five-year-old legs.

Ekaksh bit back a smile and focused on his brush strokes on the canvas. "I hope that comes true. She will go away tomorrow, and I want to make it memorable for her."

His skilled fingers glided on the canvas with finesse. His painting comprised red and golden colours to match Smriti's dress from the previous evening to minute detailing about the natya mandapa of the temple and a beautiful replication of a dance pose that Smriti did yesterday at the performance. He wished to paint her a larger painting, but she was travelling with her family, who did not know a thing about them. He thus decided to make a small painting of her that could be hidden amongst her belongings.

Coming back from the temple, Smriti was the only thing going around in his mind. Smriti's phenomenal dancing, her radiant beauty as she enchanted him and the others on stage - he could do anything to see it all over again. He wanted to capture all of it in his painting and gift it to Smriti as a parting gift.

Eyebrows knit in concentration, Ekaksh ran a few strokes of brown, red, and yellow to complete the painting. He barely had half an hour to finish this and go to the banks of Narmada to meet her for the last time. It is for this reason; he had prohibited everyone but Siddhi from being around him since last night.

"Done!" Ekaksh exclaimed as he took a step back to examine the painting. Siddhi saw the slight weariness in Ekaksh's eyes, for he hadn't slept a wink yesterday. His fingers were coated in different colours, his fingertips red and pressed with a little dip. Though Siddhi was a little girl, she understood that a tender flower of love and affection blossomed in her dada's heart. She had felt the same when her mother cooked her favourite meal after a long day at the palace, just to make her little child smile. She was young to know what love is, but she knew what it meant.

Brushing his knuckle against Siddhi's cheek, Ekaksh said, "Now let me open the door for everyone, but first," he covered the canvas with a white cloth, "let's cover this up."

Siddhi ran and opened the door. Ekaksh had even asked the guards stationed outside his room to leave for one day. To both of their surprise, Kumar Rathish entered the room, his fast strides pacing towards his brother. "What were you up to, Ekaksh? You banned the palace from entering your room." His eyes went to the covered canvas. "Oh, a new painting, I see. What is it this time?" Rathish had seen all of his brother's paintings. He possessed no artistic bone but definitely admired them.

"Don't touch it, Rathish!"

"Oops..." Rathish flipped the cloth with a finger, a teasing smile on his lips, "My finger did it by mistake."

Pursing her lips, Siddhi said, "Dada, Rathish dada can see it. Just hide it from ranimaa. Besides, even he was being suspicious about your long outings to the Narmada, so tell him."

Immediately turning around, Rathish's eyes landed on Smriti's beautiful painting. The paint on the canvas was still wet, and his experience of watching his brother paint had taught him not to touch a newly painted artwork.

Her painting dazzled Rathish's eyes, too. He knew that Ekaksh's artistic talent knew no bounds. "Ekaksh, either this girl looks exquisite while dancing or you made her look so enchanting. Who is this princess?"

Before Ekaksh could answer, Siddhi jumped in. "She is no princess. Her name is Smriti. She is from Kashi, but she is visiting her relatives here, and both dada and sundari didi meet near the Narmada every afternoon." She paused to catch a breath. "Yesterday, she was dancing at the Devi temple, and today she is going back to her house, so dada decided to make this painting as a parting gift for her."