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In each corner of this world people practice watercolor from the childhood. We like to wet our brush, dab it in colors and paint over a paper. sometimes there is no reason behind it and sometimes a deep thought is there. So what are you waiting for? Come and share!!!

A Nightmare

Once she had a nightmare. She was resting on her bed, undressed. Suddenly a pair of hands came out of the dark and moved over her body. She tried hard to free herself but it was all in vain. She could not recognize the being behind them. It seemed darkness was all over the place. Those hands were pressing her body harder and harder. She felt suffocated. She tried to cry for help. But sound did not move out yet. Images were getting blurred in front of her eyes. And then… no, I was not there to save her. The nightmare came to reality. Or the reality became a nightmare. I did not know. I shall never know. May be it was a prelude to the manifestation of the bubbles of frustration.

A Nightmare (একটি দুঃস্বপ্ন)

Painting of Frustration: watch out!!!

I was traveling through the void imbibed with bubbles. After sometime I started to feel that I was resting on a virtual surface. How did I know? I noticed the bubbles were not moving then. Relative motion was nil. Though I could not find my own shadow still had a sense that a few of the bubbles were casting shadow on a ‘floor’. But did they have eyes? Were they watching me? Or I was watching them only? I looked closer… a bit more close. What did I see? Yes, they had eyes. And they were watching me constantly. The eyes were familiar to me. I had seen them many times. Once they had been gazing at me for hours. Those eyes were full of…. I didn’t know what was in them. Now they were full of hatred. They were caged inside the bubbles of frustration.

Journey Through Infinite

I was moving. Rather I would like to say I was taking a flight. I did not know where I was going – upward or downward. I felt so light that it seemed that I could go to anywhere. But could I? No, something was guiding me. So I was moving towards a particular destiny which was predetermined but unknown to me. Same sort of bubbles occurred on the way. I collided with a few of them, but they did not hurt me! After a few minutes or a couple of hours or a few days (I could not make out the exact time as needles of a clock had stopped moving) I heard some sound. It was a kind of noise. It seemed someone was whispering in a very low voice. My auditory sense became proactive. Did she want to tell me something? Was she scared of? Did she need my help? Was there anyone else? Questions remained unrequited. I was waiting to reach her. Once in my lifetime I could get my answers, I hoped.

Journey through infinite

Painting of Frustration: Broken Image

the bubbles I was talking about might be generated from my brain only. So no one could see them, even I. How does it feel when you can sense thousands of intangible objects have gathered around you but you can not touch a single one? I was becoming mad to SEE at least one. Oh! God. Each one was one enclosure. Sizes were not fixed. Sometimes they seemed to be a screen reflecting some old silent moving pictures of which I could make out a few. But not distinctively. Who were they? “Mom, do I know them?”, I cried. No answer was received. I turned back. Did I? No difference I could find. ‘Then I closed my eyes’. But it did not help me. Like an animal dying of thirst on a desert, I was trying to hear a word. But alas! There was no option left except watching those broken images. Hope one day I could see the whole picture.

Broken Picture খণ্ড চিত্র

Painting of Frustration: Endless Void

An endless void I was living in. there was no one except me and a few bubbles of my frustration. Once there were many faces around me. I was excepting a few of them – at least one particularly. But time had taken them all. Or I had been shifted to a different time frame. I could not understand. All I felt was the void. I had never been so lonely before.

What was the color of void? Yes, I could perceive. It was white only. Like a paper without a stain of color. Certainly a question of existence arose then. Existence needs relativity. There was no reference point from where I could locate myself. I did not even know from where those bubbles were coming from. Did they really exist? Or did ‘I’ exist at all?  Here I was allowed to move freely. But I could not move. I screamed. Did I? Why I could not hear a single word. So, even the sound left me behind. I started watching those bubbles. At least I could spend time as much as I wanted as watch lost its needles.

অসীম শূন্যতা (Endless Void)

Vague Figures

I was staring at my sketch book. The paper was white, there was not a single dot. But was it so? Why I was able to see lots of vague figures moving restlessly inside a rectangular boundary? I could not identify a single one, but I could say some of them I knew very well. I shouted, “He is… he is…”, sometimes, “I know her…”, but before I could recognize them, scene changed one after another. I became a mere spectator.

Staring at them was so disturbing that I wanted to cover them up with ink. Or I wanted to recognize them immediately, so I was trying to capture them through my ink. Or possibly I could not bear their movement. Whatever the reason was I wanted them to be ‘seen‘.

বিলিয়মান অবয়ব

Paintings of Frustration

Hi all. Hope you are doing well. Have you passed through any situation where you know the start and end but have no clue of in between? Is not it confusing? Obviously I am not talking about a math problem! A situation in reality. Whatever the way you choose will lead you to the end. Something similar is happening in my life. So for the next few days I shall be posting some paintings which together will tell you a story. I know the start and end point, but have little hint how it will flow. I haven’t decided any title of the story, but am sure I shall have one by the end of it. I can tell you the theme – it is all about frustration. You are welcome to experience the journey. no other colors except black and red will be used through out.

My mom asked me,”What about her?”
I said, “She is ‘away’.”
“Where exactly?”, Mom again asked me.
I replied, “To a new world…”
Mom said, “Oh, then she is moving out of your life.”
I said… nothing, I started painting.

Painting – 01 হতাশার বুদবুদ

হতাশার বুদবুদ (bubbles of frustration)