It's us who are always against time.
Have you ever fought against time for your fate?
Shruti Rangarajan is 27 years old and works as a researcher at one of the top universities in India. She paints her pain on canvas, making a life from it.
Arjun C...
It was Sunday, and I woke up around 11 a.m. I wore a black hoodie with track pants. I made myself a sandwich and mango juice. I went to my other room to paint on the canvas.
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I was working on the painting where I put my heart and soul. I know this will be a masterpiece in my painting career. I sent a picture of my painting to my dealer, aka my best friend Kathir, on WhatsApp.
I wrote a text to him about the meaning of my painting, where the child wore a flowered pattern gown around 5 years old, holding her father's hand. Looking at his father with a smiling face, where the father is looking at a daughter with an aww face. He was proud and shed tears, saying that the child had grown beautifully.
He replied to me with a text,
"See you around, and we will discuss the project with a smiling emoji.".
I went to my kitchen to prepare dinner for us. I made chapathi with paneer gravy. I ate my dinner and went to my bedroom, where I started watching the dramas.
It was around 8 p.m. when my house bell rang. I went downstairs to see Kathir there. He was smiling at me. I asked him to come inside the house Kathir was eyeing my new penthouse, which is around the forest and has a lake around the house.
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I served him coffee on the table.
He stared at me and the coffee at the same time. And then he took a sip of coffee. He started the chat by saying how the house was in the middle of the forest. Only a few people knew about this place. And then we started discussing the paintings and the auctions.
No one knows my identity, mainly because I have another identity as a researcher at one of the top universities. So I use my other name, Sunny, as a painter. Kathir is my childhood friend, whose father is a scientist and his mother is a doctor.
He is a businessman who works in the telecommunications and textile industries. And he also sells my paintings as my manager at the auctions. We don't meet often. We meet once in a while, and we talk about what we missed in the meantime.
He asked me to be safe in the penthouse and do the research. He ate dinner and left around 10 p.m.
I went to my bedroom to sleep. But I can't sleep. Everyone thinks that I am living a happy life. Only Kathir knows that I am suffering from depression and insomnia. This is all I brought to myself by doing the research project.
I wish I lived like other people.
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Please share your thoughts on chapter 1 in the comments section.
