personality painter

The heavy rains had successfully swept the dryness out of the soil. Even the soil of the mountain regions had dampness here and there. People were worried about the landslides. Of course the locals have some idea about the geography of their place but one can doubt them gone pessimistic after the frequent landslides that occurred the previous year. Anyway I was sure that something like that wont turn up.
It was not raining when I got up after going through the latest economic- business related news and incidents which always had primary importance in the magazines. Then it was cold enough to spend some time near the fireplace warming yourself. But, I thought I could do with a cup of tea. So, I ordered my wife to bring me a cup of tea, who was busy washing the clothes experimenting the new ‘anjali washing powder’ on them. Order was mine so she stopped that work and went into the kitchen to satisfy my wish. She was clear or rather she was made clear about the consequences of not satisfying my wish the very second day we united. Then she was so embarrassed to shout or cry. And now she often avoided similar circumstances, though at times she met them as if she was brave enough to stand against me.
It was time for me to go on with my daily walking exercise. I felt bored walking the same road, covering the same trees, same sceneries, same milestones, and same old ‘danger’ signboards. “What if I take the right turn from that beautiful flowering tree?” I thought. That path was forbidden! That was what the milk woman told me and then everyone whom I met told the same thing to me. It was almost a month before from that day I had shifted and started living in that mountain. Then the story of the forbidden path was a myth to me. And when the stories of the path was told and retold, and heard and reheard, it looked a mystery to me.
“Don’t go through that path. I am afraid you would try to have a go. Do you know what the postman have told me?” said my wife. I promised her I wouldn’t go anywhere close to it for I too had heard what the postman had told. She hadn’t believed my promise for she had seen a lot of that kind before. She used to warn me everyday and she warned me that day too. Then I told her not to warn me anymore and threatened that I would break my promise if she warned me another time. To that she showed me a rounder redder face and disappeared into the kitchen.
I remembered what Taylor Pran had quoted about the forbidden path. He said that the forbidden path led to a beautiful viewpoint. It was about a kilometer into the path. He wondered if there was a road at all for no one had taken that right turn for almost a year. There was an exception to that statement as he told about three brave men who did take the right turn didn’t come back to say what the condition of the road was. He was more concerned about those three not returning other than the condition of the road and so was I.
I had then thought about those three brave men for nights and concluded that they had committed suicide by jumping off that viewpoint. I had enough evidence to support my theory, as there were enough reasons to commit suicide at that time. And that might be the reason why they failed to return. Then I made out that the forbidden path was as superstitious as the evil that was said to reign there. And that very morning, after the night I found out the truth, was my wife warning me the umpteenth time. And then that was the reason why I went bad tempered though she would tell you that I was always bad tempered.
“What if take the right turn from that beautiful flowering tree?” I thought the same the following day too. Then I was sure that there was nothing I could meet at the other end of the forbidden path that could scare me to death. I had also heard from Byne that a landslide had occurred somewhere around the forbidden path though he wasn’t sure where it had occurred. I seriously doubt that. Then I started thinking about the condition of the path, whether it had an extension from what was seen from the beautiful flowering tree. I thought I will have to search for its traces if was to take that right turn one day.
I don’t know why I had that interest in that forbidden path. If was bored with my daily route, I could have taken a novel non-mysterious route. But, the mystery of the forbidden path might have had attracted me than any other route. But, I didn’t take the right turn that day.
The following day had a different story to tell. My wife said that day that I was seen talking in my sleep the previous night. She expressed her concern about me. She told me that she heard me say that I would take the right turn the following day and walk in through the forbidden path. Then I remembered my say about my intention the previous night that I confessed. To that she was horror struck for she clapped her mouth and was on the verge of a scream, but she didn’t scream. She asked me whether I would really walk into the forbidden path to which I simply nodded. Then she warned me but I smiled at her. I meant that there was nothing at the end of the forbidden path that could scare me to death with my smile, but I don’t think she took the smile to that meaning.
And that day when I left home for the walk, I was sure about taking the right turn. I passed the same trees, the same milestones, and the same old ‘danger’ boards. I stopped at the junction from where I had to take the right turn. The beautiful flowering tree stood flowered close to me. I thought that the tree was also warning me not to go through the forbidden path. I felt that because the whole mountain people I had met had warned me. But, then I was not the one to be stopped. I was then brave and determined.
After not long I entered the forbidden path. I felt that the path had the same hardness to stand with that of the main path, my daily route. The path was covered with flowers that had fallen off from the beautiful flowering tree. I thought I was a hardhearted fellow to stamp and walk on top of some fresh flowers. But I had to do that.
I had to do that to clear the mountaineers of their superstitions and more than that, I loved solving mysteries though I hadn’t solved any. And that was my chance.
According to Taylor Pran I had to walk a kilometer. Without knowing how much I walked I kept walking. There were large fallen tree branches to block my way but I went forward. With every step I gathered confidence though every bird chirp lowered the same. But, overall I was confident. I didn’t expect to find the traces of the path up to the other end of the path easily. But, I easily found the right way even though the path was covered with leaves and all other natural mess.
And finally, I saw signs of being at the end of the path. I saw a clearing through which more light was seen and was sure that that was the end of the path. I knew I was going to solve the mystery quickly and return to my dwelling. Then I doubted if I would ever find a mystery worth solving. And with such and such thoughts I continued walking.
As I had thought that was the end of the path. And what was at the end of the forbidden path? No ghost! No evil! But a very beautifully dressed nature stood there. I saw a board thrashed to the earth, which read ‘The High Viewpoint’. There were other viewpoints where I had gone before. They were ‘The Higher Viewpoint’ and “The Highest view point’, from which I understood that the viewpoint I had then discovered was not at that high an altitude. And then, I hadn’t remembered climbing that lot all through the forbidden path. I edged closer to the point from where I could have a better look at the downhill beauty. So I did. The scenery was the most charming that I had ever seen form that mountain. I wondered why the people were afraid to take the right path and reach there. To that, I had no answer. I stood there enjoying the downhill beauty.
But then, I felt weird and that too for good reason. I first thought that a tree branch, a small dry tree branch, had fallen on to my shoulders. However, I turned back not to see a small dry tree branch. Then only I understood what fell on my shoulders. It was a hand! And the hand owned to a full grown up man with a long white beard and clean baldhead whom had I then turned to see.
“Who are you?” we both questioned each others appearance at the same time though there was a contrast in the tones of us two- mine and the strangers’-where the former, me, was trembling with fear and the latter was making the former, me, tremble with his stern look. Then we looked at each other’s appearance. He looked fifty or sixty or may be older to his outlook. One would have mistaken his bald head for a white-melon if there was nothing beneath it, but as there was a pair of small eyes which I believe to have superhuman powers, and beneath that a crooked nose, and then the long white beard and moustache which grew beneath them only leaving a small space for the mouth clear, I was not mistaken. He was wearing a clean white shirt and a clean brown pant. I wondered how he managed to keep them clean. He looked at my then enthusiastic eyes, wide-open mouth which shadowed astonishment, immobile hands and legs and concluded something from my outlook, which I don’t know even now. The first impression we had of each other was that we were complete strangers to each other. Never in that last month since my arrival I had seen someone like him and then never in my whole life had I seen someone like him. Then we went back to our questions.
As I was the most taken aback at our meeting, I had to take the burden of replying. So, I replied. I replied that I was just a morning-walker who was anxious to reach the ‘High Viewpoint’. When he started staring at me again, I took the opportunity to ask him who he was. To this he gave me another stare. I thought he was sucking out something out of me with that superhuman eye that I believed he possessed. But then I hadn’t felt anything. Then he finally answered. He told me that he was a painter and that he considered himself as the personality painter. Then I didn’t knew what a personality painter was, but I got the answer from him but only later.
I tried to act brave for he didn’t look dangerous. I had to ask him why he was there, so I asked him. He told me that he once lived in the city downhill. He was bored with the pace of life in the city. He revealed that the city had lost the human-human relationship and had shifted into the human-machine relationship, which he considered completely absurd. Thus he reasoned his migration from the downhill to there where we stood, away from the insane city crowd. He told me he was the world famous painter Arobil Clab. But I, as any other person I knew, haven’t even heard of a painter living downhill was world famous. But the fact that the painters and another class of artists were not at all considered against the popular mini and wide-screen superstars made me negligent about his identity. But, I believed him.
I still had a small part of my mind supporting the theories of the mountain people about the evil nature of that place. So, I warned him. But he told me that the people had meant him when they said evil. And he laughed. I forced by mind not to believe him being the evil, which I did intentionally. Then I joined him laughing but without my heart. But, how long had he been there, that I had not known. So, I asked him to which he replied almost a year. I became suspicious and that led me to ask him what he was doing there. He looked back at me and with a surprise at that question answered that he had been painting all those days. He told me that he had been painting the nature he could see there and that he still had a lot more paintings to do. Then I asked him where all those paintings were so that I could see them. He revealed his practice of throwing the paintings down the hill after he had completely experienced its beauty and he was then sorry for not able to show me any of them for he hadn’t expected any sane person to turn out there. I felt his practice very odd. He told me that he hadn’t seen a man foe almost three months. That made me ask where he had seen that man three months before. To that, he said nothing.
I found his painting tools couple a foot away, near a small rock. He saw me looking at them. And then I asked him what painter he regarded himself was for I had forgotten what he had said about it. He repeated that he was the personality painter. I hadn’t yet known what a personality painter was, so I had to ask him which I did. He told that he could see through the insides of a human body into his or her mind and detect the personality of him or her. He said he had got that power after years of practice and studies. I had to believe him.
He revealed his intention to paint my personality. I knew I was one of the best men in the country. So, I proudly accepted his invitation. He disappeared behind a bush only to appear with a painting board loaded with a paper. He told me to stand on a rock, which was, to my astonishment, completely painted. I thought that was modern painting but he told me that was not even a painting at all. That was only a mess created by his painting tools, which like any other lifeless objects were not devoid of falling down, whether on purpose or intended by whoever having the liberty of holding them. He started gazing at me with his superhuman eyes (that eyes being superhuman was still my belief). It gazed insides me. I didn’t feel anything. Then he started painting my personality. I stood immobile till he completed his work. After the completion of the work he gave me a smile, which I returned. I was anxious to see my personality. He too knew that so he showed me.
I saw the finished painting having a devil with its horns and long tail looking at me. I asked him with a disappointed-furious resultant of a face, what hell he had painted. The painting, I must say, was wonderful, attractive and lively, but I had to ask him what the painting meant. And that’s why I asked him. He smiled at my question, and then he pointed at the painting at one time and then at me the next time. I was roused with anger. But, I stood cool outwards. I deduced that he was insane and that was why he was living there away from the society, at that ‘High Viewpoint’. All that time, he was still smiling, looking at me, trying to tempt me to attack him. Then it was time to act wisely for I foresaw the danger though I was not clear about what the danger actually was. I still to this day believe that my coolness had surprised him, as he smiled no more. He must have expected that I would attack him or something like that. But, as that didn’t happen he stood surprised.
He asked me what I felt about the painting. As I felt a danger close to me in him, I had to lie which I did. I remarked that the painting was excellent and he was quite right about my personality. He was again seen surprised. Then he reminded me about the question I asked him about his previous encounter with a man three months back from that day. He told me that the man came in with a mission of solving a mystery. Both of us knew what the mystery was but none of us revealed that. Neglecting my surprise, he continued and when he did that, he confessed that he had killed that man. I was taken aback at that news and made up my mind to run away if he developed any intention to kill me too. But, he didn’t show any gesture of running towards me to hold my neck or even touch me. So, I stayed.
Then I acted bravely. I asked him why he had killed him. The reply came in quickly and when he completed it, I felt relieved. He told me that he had painted the personality of that man too, but unlike me, that man tried to harm him. He said that he was physically very strong, stronger than I thought, and he smashed the man out cold in a single blow knocking him over. The, he said, he took him, raised him over his head, walked towards the viewpoint and threw him downhill. I don’t yet know why he was so strong though I have three theories for that. First, he must be superhuman-may be a ghost, for I believe a ghost could be very strong though I don’t know any. Second, he must have gone crazy leading him to insanity and then insane people can be very strong. Third, he must be completely sane, the hard but brave mountain life, mountain food and resources might have made him strong. But, then I was not thinking about all these for I had to leave that place. And then, to my surprise, he permitted me to return for he thought I have got converted into a better person. But, the truth was I was not. He told me I can go there anytime and he would expect me.
I walked back happily shadowing and neglecting my horror. I then made up my mind not to take the right turn another time. I speculated the fate of other men who never returned as said by Taylor Pran.
But now, I am the happiest man in the whole mountain for I have returned from the ‘High Viewpoint’ without even a scar. Now, all the mountain people know about what was and is at the end of the forbidden path though some do not believe it. I was not able to find out who that painter at the end of the forbidden path actually was though I have found out some information about him downhill that make the mystery even mysterious. I open the doors of the other side of the mystery to you readers/ spectators to find out what the man at the end of the forbidden path is-is he a ghost or a man. Anyway, I am no braver to do that. So, better you do that. Good-bye.