Tags:
Journalism of Courage
Let8217;s start from the beginning. The offer to have my portrait painted by an artist of repute was not meant to be a good turn from boss. It was retribution. For all the years of 8220;assaulting8221; slander, I tell you my colleagues8217; senses with loud giggles and noisy gags. Ok, make that very noisy.
They tried to hide their glee in expressions of envy8212;8220;How interesting8230;why, it8217;s an opportunity of a lifetime8221;8212;but I knew what they found interesting: the prospect of me having to sit still for hours on end. Without speech. Or movement. Or wisecracks. 8220;You know Sujata Dharap, don8217;t you?,8221; barked boss. 8220;She doesn8217;t do portraits, the same way you don8217;t do good behaviour. Make it to her studio. Possibly she8217;s had an easy life so far. It8217;s time to share our burden8230;.8221;
In an outfit, which had most of the colours of the rainbow, I headed to her studio to be tamed into immobility. In her courtyard, I gazed with admiration at the lattice-work partitions and rows and rows of plants. This was an aesthete8217;s space. Sujata handed me a cup of tea and the photographer smiled reassuringly at me. We were ready to roll8230; 8220;I don8217;t do pretty portraits,8221; she warned. Good, I thought, let her paint me wicked. That8217;ll be some fun. 8220;Tilt your head to the left, but not completely. No, I don8217;t want a profile. Give me a three-fourth,8221; she said. I obediently turned my head left, right and sideways. 8220;That8217;ll do.8221;
Mercifully, my head was at an angle that didn8217;t hurt my neck. So I focussed my eyes on a bunch of beautiful white mogra. It was actually peaceful to be still, I thought, revising for the first time my dismissal of inactivity. Click, went Pavan8217;s camera, disturbing my reverie. 8220;Let me look,8221; I whispered furiously. He ignored me, knowing fully well that this was one time I couldn8217;t bully him.
Resigned, I sipped my tea again. Trrrng8230; went the cell phone. My mother wanted to have a word with me. When didn8217;t she? Dharap lifted an eyebrow. I put the phone down and went back to daydreaming. What foolish diet prevented me from eating that strawberry cream pastry ? When will Sujata be done? What is it to paint a portrait? Art, of course, makes you see anew. I knew what I looked like. How did this artist see me?
After sitting still for close to two hours, I got my answer. The features were mine all right. But only those closest to me would recognise the expression. Not many people see me like this. I look like this only when I8217;m reading.
8220;I see you as a serious and focussed young woman,8221; said Sujata. 8220;I8217;m afraid I don8217;t see you as funny at all. There was a lot behind the surface gregariousness,8221; she added. I pleaded with Dharap for the painting. She let me borrow it. Triumphant, I headed for office. Over lunch, I held forth on how the session had changed me. 8220;I8217;m going to be a profound person in every way,8221; I told my listeners. 8220;The same I was before.8221;
