He called himself
An artist who is forever in love,
His bald head
And white beard
And moustache thick and drooping
Eyes had many things said,
'Look at my canvases...
They are my life...'
He told me
As I like a naive
Thought to find his works in his eyes,
The first canvas
Had a woman looking up
To the sky,
Her hands were red
Blessed with a flower placed
Right in the middle of her origin,
Next was a rustic scene,
A wasteland green
And a palm tree,
And a sun,
Red,
The third was almost a photograph,
A sylph like figure in curtain wrapped,
Black and white mystic and mature,
The fourth canvas had a definite lure
Of political decadence,
Corrupted hearts in bags tied by ropes,
And people falling down the slopes
To meet vernal fire,
The fifth one was like a pilgrimage
To the sand banks where Nissim
Once found his grace,
He called himself
An artist forever in love,
And I like a naive
Thought to find it all in his aged eyes.
(Based loosely on P. Karmakar's artworks. This prolific painter passed away on 24th feb, 2014. This scribble is a tribute to the artist extraordinary )
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