The Broken Nest

The colours were slowly spreading over the canvas... crimson, yellow, red, green... the fountain of colours swirling on the white canvas paper... then all of those enchanting colours were wrapped inside the veil of black... black and black... the beautiful picture that was being created on the canvas took only a moment to ruin itself. The cruel stroke of the brush stormed over the paper like black smoke from hell, harsh and undisciplined, as if it was the physical entity of the mind of the creator. Helpless and dejected, finally he threw off the brush and gazed at the black hollow that has been created on the canvas... the canvas is reflecting his life right now... empty and black... all black...

He pulled the bottle of whiskey and the glass. It has been 6 pegs already... Let it be! Who cares! He did not even poured the liquor in the glass this time, the bitter taste of alcohol passed through his throat directly from the bottle... the bitter, strong sensation spread a boiling peace inside. Bottles after bottle alcohol are being finished regularly, but he is unable to paint a scratch on the canvas... not a single one... His vacancy in life is directly reflecting on his vacant canvases of studio!

Had he ever felt the black hollow of his life from so close before? Since the day he'd been invited as guest judge in the prize-distribution ceremony of the national level painting competition organised by SSI, and awarded the best artist in his own hand for painting the wonderful picture of... of mother and a child... Since he saw the boy in his own eyes he has lost the remaining peace of his life! The young boy of 18-19, on a wheel-chair, head tilted, indifferent eyes staring at own fingers incoherently and lips quivering with an expression of decent smile and gratitude when everyone is clapping on his name. He took the certificate and the medal from his hand, his lips moved again as he uttered 'thank you' in a low tone though his eyes did not contact him. His features of face, especially his chin and nose are just like his mother... though he has got his father's hairs... and the talent of painting... He had not recognised him; but hadn't she recognised him too? Wasn't she there inside the proud crowd waving her hands in pride of her son's achievement? Has she forgiven him?

Legs were trembling uncontrollably under the booze. Unable to stand anymore, he sat down on the floor of studio, still the bottle in hand. 12 years... 12 long years have passed since he has seen her. At first she used to call in their landline of Kolkata, mostly to talk with his mother, then the connection lost forever... and she was lost too with the last trace of their love- their son! She was lost, and he never searched for her... How could he! He was too busy with his worthless vacant life! Too busy to buy name and fame worldwide which seem burdens nowadays... From Kolkata to Baroda, Baroda to Paris, Paris to New York... awards after awards... Applauses of critics flooding the media- Nikhil Chowdhury, the next Picasso from India! Fame, limelight, money... he flowed and flowed... never ever turned back to see his Sunayna standing alone in the dark, alone, with his disabled son!

Perhaps he deliberately had never turned back. From the blind grievance, the piercing resentment and the vapour of ego the indifference took birth easily. He crossed youth, stepped into middle-age, the crown of fame became too heavy; and while turning back for a while when running he discovered that none is there for him... he is alone in his world... the world is vacant! And black!

And then he came in front of him! His son... The part of his soul!

Dodo was born in a stormy night. Nikhil was not in Kolkata- as a struggling artist he hardly got to live in own house that time-; had stuck in flood at a village, miles far from the town. There were no mobile phones that time to get the news instantly, so when he came back Sunayna had already given birth to a baby boy three days ago; a little cotton doll it was- with the chin and nose of Sunayna and his hairs. The first child of the generation... he was welcomed in a grand way! Little they had understood that time that the tiny baby boy has born with such a curse! Sunayna had complications during pregnancy, and she had to have a delivery before time. He was a premature baby, smaller than normal size, but they could identify none of abnormality before. Slowly they noticed, treatment was started... days after days passed without much of recovery... he grew older, bigger along with the burden of tension and suppressed frustration inside his father's soul. His career had started touching the peak right then, his ambitions are slowly getting way to fly higher and higher; but inside house there was only dark... The part of his soul, his inheritance in this vast earth, the base of his and his lovely wife's long dreams, when used to stare here and there with numb gaze, blabbered gibberish incoherently without having any touch of the real world, grew up old enough to walk and run but could not even sit properly and could never recognized his dad- rather anyone other than his mother- it used to tear up his heart cruelly! He used to literally cry hiding himself at first... then with time the tears and emotions came in control but not the intolerable pain... then slowly with time the pain got buried under the frustration of unsatisfied fatherhood, a strange indifference took birth! He felt suddenly he has no mental connection with his child; he is merely a responsibility to be borne on life-long. Perhaps kids have a sixth sense to understand who wants them and who neglects them. Dodo started fearing his father, became over-possessive about mother hardly giving her time to go to Nikhil! Distance increased more and more, and that slowly started grabbing the warmth of the relation between the husband-wife. Nikhil's indifference for his son was increasing daily, but he can never tolerate his love to be indifferent to him. But beloved Sunayna was defeated long back in front of her motherhood... Dodo and Sunayna had made a different world for themselves, and Nikhil was an outsider there!