Thursday, 18 August 2011


left, had he not been busy in solving the bungling questions of his mind. The shades of viridian and burnt umber, in the background, with large strokes of white on it, provided a beautiful balance to the bare back of the

nude. It was a good painting that must have got attention of an art dealer. But Kamal had passed by that, as if the painting was not there at all. Ferit was expecting admiration for this nude, which had consumed a couple of his nights.

With Ferit still bewildered, Kamal, returned back from the point where he was, and restarted viewing the paintings from the very start. Ferit took a deep breath of relief. Kamal was standing in front of that large horse. Now Kamal appeared as an art dealer, to Ferit. He was looking minutely in the depths of brush strokes and was discussing the in depth expressions concealed in each painting. . The artist in Kamal had woken up at last.

But he was smiling all the way, as he was giving his comments on paintings, one by one. Ferit was happy. He had started expecting opening new doors for him. The views of his art dealer were encouraging. “Yes Deniz was right. This man liked my paintings, and now he would take my name to the international markets”, Ferit started sensing a new breeze blowing.

What however, Ferit did not know that Kamal was not the the one whom he was expecting. He was neither an Indian having business in Singapore, nor an art dealer of international repute. He was not the one that Deniz had told him. He was Kamal, the artist from Karachi, who had come to Istanbul to find his Pink Lady (applegreen).  

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