I relaxed and took stock of the situation. Amidst the hors
d'oevres and the animated conversation, the oil painting’s four feet by seven
feet canvas captivated me. It was the back of a portly middle aged woman in a
vermillion sari with a green border, her hair neatly tied in a small bun,
looking out of a window. Though I couldn’t see her face or the expression on
her face, I was drawn to her thoughts. What could she be thinking in this
sunset of her life – was she waiting for her spouse to return from work or was
the husband resting after a hard day? Was she expecting her children to come
home or was she hoping for unexpected guests who would give her great joy?
Maybe it was my imagination only, and she wasn’t thinking of any of these
things. She could be lost in the ocean of her memories – of how life had
treated her or how she had treated the spikes and lows handed out to her...
The
waiter thrust a tray of mushroom quiche towards me, startling me... and I
realised I had found the answer to what to look for while buying a work of art. I would like to bring home a piece which I could look at day after day, which would fascinate me, draw out my latent sensibilities. Something like what literature does.
