The time I heard those anklets tinkle ..

1804 -
Morning we saw the exuberance of the sun and nights the calmness of the full moon for there was no electricity in my world then, to disturb the intensity of the moon's illuminance.
I lived alone in a 5 sqmtr. shoddy house ,in my imaginative world , my art world on the look out for a new beauty to catch my attention .For then I would write flowing lines of poetry ,paint with such sensitiveness that I never knew resided in me .

From morning to night I would sit watching through my window staring into emptiness and when a whiff of air made the curtains caress my face I almost surrendered to defeat.

But that night was special for it was heavily raining and there was a strange luminous effect which made my windows appear foggy.
There was some kind of chaos in my mind or maybe it was in my heart.I felt restless.
And then for the first time I heard her anklets tinkle ...

So melodious that I wanted to keep hearing it forever ,I could not see her ,only her silhouette I could make out but I could already imagine what she must be like from the innocence of those tinkles ,I could feel her rhythmic sense with the way she created a music pattern with her feet,

I could know she was sensuous looking at her wet saree fabric tightly wrap her curvaceous body, I could know she was beautiful and for this I didn't even have a reason !!
And without my knowledge I was already painting her .. imagining her and painting her..

 Each face felt beautiful but not beautiful enough .... each time I felt that maybe she was more beautiful and maybe I can never paint her as she is... but still wanted to keep painting every nerve,every mood of her ........

I would never hear those tinkles in the day but only in the night and I would wait with such childlike enthusiasm that it amazed me more than anybody.
 I daily felt like going out and seeing her in real or talking to her but she was this angel to me and I felt my doing so would jinx my fairy tale or stop her from coming anymore .

Slowly I started giving out signals too just to make her realize her of my existence and surprisingly she just synced in our harmony.
But still there was this element of mystery in her, I could never know what she was or what was going on in her mind and this attracted me more to her .. I was attracted to my own muse !
As I kept painting ,in my mind I kept falling into a stupor thinking If I really loved her or just loved the idea of her in my life ......
And she was to remain a silhouette to me .... forever .... maybe ... maybe not .......

P.S : the paintings in this article are of sir John Fernandes whose art I've always admired and wondered how being a man,he can so beautifully depict women ..