“Hare Krishna Hare Krishna Krishna Krishna Hare Hare”
The lilting strains of the bhajan filled the air as Soham waited outside the small makeshift temple, busy sketching. He desisted from entering the temple as he did not believe in the idol worship that his mother devoted herself to. As for Soham, he revered his mother more than any idols worshipped in temples. She was the only one before whom he was willing to bow.
The other God in Soham’s life was – Art and he was devout in his penance towards it. Ever since his mother had taken him to sit with the other children in the street side art class organized by the local NGOs, Soham had been rivetted to it. He had never thought shapes, forms and colors could change his otherwise distorted, greyscale life in such a fascinating way.
Madhurie walked out of the temple and smiled as she saw Soham immersed in his painting. She gently touched his shoulder to let him know she was back. Soham looked up and smiled at her. She touched the flowers to his forehead. Soham looked at his mother’s serene face. He liked it when she did not put on the gaudy make-up and those gauzy shimmering Saris that revealed more than they covered.
He held up the picture he was drawing for his mother to admire. Madhurie’s eyes lit up with joy at the bold strokes and the exquisite use of colour. Soham was always good at human portraits and Madhurie could see he was improving. The delight in his mother’s eyes gladdened his heart. Soham packed up his stuff with a happy smile on his face linked his arm in hers and started walking home. It was her day off today and Soham was looking forward to the evening ahead which they had planned to spend together.
They traversed the narrow lanes of Durgacharan Mitra Street, better known as Sonagachi – the infamous red-light area of Kolkata, talking and laughing at each other’s jokes.
Madhurie was only 13 when she was brought here by her Uncles. She was sold at a sum of Rs.5000 to pay off her father’s debts. Her years had been spent in these dark, dank serpentine lanes enduring the ignominy of losing her identity as a human and being reduced to just a body. She had grown up serving customers of all ages, sometimes several on one night, and was unaware when a tiny throbbing life had entered her body.
When Soham was born Madhurie was just 20. She was not even sure that she wanted the child and was almost about to throttle it in her womb. It was only when Shanti Didi, her roommate, advised her that a child might be her only support when she grew old.
“Keep it” she had said “It might help to give you bread when your body gives up”.
Reluctantly she had agreed. However, when she had seen the tiny Soham, shriveled and drenched in her blood, it was as if a new spirit had entered her body. She had smiled despite all her misery. She felt God had deprived her of everything only to give her a new identity, the highest accolade in the world. He had made her a Mother.
Madhurie’s struggles had doubled since Soham’s birth. She took on more customers to provide for him. She made sure that he was fed and put to sleep before her ‘duty hours’. Then she would shove him beneath the bed while she pleasured her customers above it.
That was how Soham remembered spending his first few years. As he grew up, he would ask his mother why she dressed up every evening and brought home a new uncle. His mother would smile and ask him to get back to his books. Madhurie had realized education was critical for Soham. Despite everything she insisted that he should get an education. She had tried formal education in the locality schools. However, she tore up the forms as she could not put a name against the column which required the crucial identifier “Father’s Name”. So, she had started educating him with whatever little she remembered from her school days.
‘Son of a whore’
That is what the sweet shop owner had called him when he had gone to get some sweets for himself. Soham was just 6 years old and had looked at the man surprised. The man had cackled with laughter and looked at him sneeringly.
“Ma what is a whore?” Soham had asked her that night when Madhurie was feeding him. Her hand had stopped on the plate where she was shaping the rice into tiny round balls to put into his mouth.
“Where did you hear it?” she had asked trying to sound casual.
“Dasu Kaka at the sweet store said I was a ‘son of a whore’. But I am your son. Isn’t it?”
“Of course you are! It simply means a woman who turns into an Apsara every night, like me.” said Madhurie clearing the plates and wiping his face clean.
“Do you like being an Apsara?” he had asked innocently.
“No I don’t. But I don’t have wings or I would have taken you on my back and flown away into the distant skies, far away from here” Madhurie had said stroking his hair laughing indulgently.
Little Soham had wrapped his arms around Madhurie’s neck tightly “I will get you wings one day. Big and strong ones.”
Madhurie had laughed and hid her tears as she kissed his little cheeks.
When Soham was a little older he had woken up one night to odd sounds. The surrounding darkness had scared him. He had groped for his mother but could not find her. However, he had not cried out. Something had warned his young mind to keep silent and bear the horrible feeling curdling inside his heart. He had shut his eyes tightly and stuffed his fingers into his ears to block out the noises.
Since then Soham had refused to sleep under the bed. Madhurie did not force him. Probably, she had understood the reason.
Then the drawing school came up and Madhurie had taken him there to keep his mind off things. Little did she know that it would turn his world around in a magical way. Soham was mesmerized with the colours. He was fascinated with the idea that he could translate anything that he dared to imagine onto sheaves of white paper. The blazing sun could be captured within its folds as easily as a star-spangled sky on a moonlit night.
Then gradually he turned to portraits. Soham was always the quiet child. He had a natural ability to observe human features, angles and structures. He could capture the exact perspective created by shadows cast on the profile. Anisha, the art instructor at the school was overwhelmed when he created the first still life of a stray dog and its puppies.
“Soham this is brilliant!” she had exclaimed.
Soham had beamed. He had rushed home to show his first creation to Madhurie. She had marveled at it and pinned it up above their bed. As Soham’s talent grew Madhurie began to realise the depth of his attachment.
Even now as they walked hand in hand, Madhurie looked at the boy who walked beside her. He had grown tall for his 15 years and was almost the same height as her. For the first time, she wondered about his future. How she could take him out of this gutter and give him a life worth living? Would he be able to continue his painting?
The flyer was pasted on the walls of their 4X4 room. Soham was the first to notice it as he stepped out to get the milk. He carried the flyer with him and read it while he waited in the queue at the milk booth for his turn. A famous art gallery was holding a contest of portrait painting and the winner could win a full scholarship to one of the best Universities in the USA to study Art. It was a dream come true for Soham and one that he knew he would win.
The abusive shouts from his other neighbours brought him out of his reverie. He quickly moved ahead collected the milk packets and rushed back. He dumped packets in front of their door shouting at Madhurie to pick it up and ran all the way to the nearest telephone booth. He dialed the number on the flyer. His fingers slipping with nervousness as he pressed the buttons.
The phone kept ringing but there was no response. Soham looked at the clock and realized he was probably too early.
Back home he moved around nervously. He refused to answer Madhurie’s concerned questions and kept looking at the clock to check the time.
Just when the clock struck 10, Soham was back at the phone booth. Nervously, he dialed the number once again.
A smart female voice spoke in clipped tones
“Aakar Art Gallery. How may I help you?”
“Hello” Soham’s throat went dry. He gulped several times before he repeated “Hello”
“Yes? Who is this?” the voice repeated.
“Hello….about the advertisement. I want to speak about the advertisement.” Soham began nervously
“Advertisement? Oh you mean about the flyer? Yes so are you the prospective candidate?”
“Yes” said Soham eagerly.
“Okay. Can I have your details please? Your full name?”
“Soham”
“Your full name please?” the voice repeated with a tinge of irritation.
Soham’s throat turned dry again. He licked his lips nervously as he babbled without thinking.
“Kumar. Soham Kumar”
“Ok Mr. Kumar, your age please?”
“15”
“Hold on for a second, will you?”
A silence followed when the lady on the other side obviously consulted with somebody. After some time, she returned.
“I am sorry Mr. Kumar. You seem to be under age for this contest.” A whirring buzz on the other end indicated the lady had disconnected the call.
Soham felt anger like he had never felt before. It boiled within him and reached his head till he felt it would burst. He knew he had to do something. Age could not prevent him reaching his dreams and when he knew he would win it. He had never been so sure of anything in his life.
Soham paced restlessly in front of the phone booth thinking hard. Suddenly he knew who he could approach.
Anisha’s house was located in a posh locality at a respectable distance from Soham’s neighbourhood. He ran all the way till he reached the pretty two-storeyed bungalow standing amidst a beautiful lush garden. He was just in time as he realized Anisha was about to leave for work.
Soham ran up to her waving the flyer, too breathless to speak.
“Soham?” Anisha was obviously surprised to see him here at this hour. “what are you doing here?”
“Didi” panted Soham “Look at this advertisement”
Anisha took the flyer from his hand and read the details. Her eyes widened in elation as she looked up at him excitedly.
“This is a wonderful opportunity Soham. Call them now”
“I did didi!” Soham said as he relayed the incident of the morning.
“I can’t let my age stop me Didi. Please do something”
Anisha stared at the flyer and then at him. Like him even she had not noticed the age criteria that was defined at 18 years and above. However, like him she too was sure that his style was more matured than any 18-year-old. He was a natural and there was no doubt about it.
She looked into his pleading eyes. She knew she had to do something.
“Let me think of something Soham. I will meet you tomorrow.”
Anisha kept turning the flyer in her hand all day at work. All she could think of was Soham’s eyes looking at her as if she was his last hope. She had known him since he etched his first nervous line and had seen him develop that into confident brush strokes. His drive and desire to rise above his situation was commendable and she knew he deserved this opportunity. If only she knew how.
That night at dinner Anisha discussed it with her father. Rajan Roy was aware of his daughter’s social work and was always supportive of her efforts to create a difference. He listened intently to his daughter.
“Why don’t you talk to Lolita?” he said after hearing everything.
“You mean Mom’s cousin?” Anisha looked at him not very convinced.
“Yes. She has good connections. I am sure she can do something. Moreover, if this boy is as good as you say he is, she is bound to do something. You know she is a sucker for talent.”
Without wasting a moment, Anisha dashed off to make a phone call.
Lolita Majumdar was rich, educated and a great connoisseur of art and everything artistic. She was her mother’s first cousin and Anisha was always in awe of her sophisticated ways.
“Hello” a shrill voice answered the phone.
“Lolita Mashi….this is Anisha…. Maya’s daughter?”
“Annie dear! How have you been? It’s been such a long time “
Anisha grimaced at hearing the anglicized version of her name. She ignored it as she had more important matters to handle now.
“Mashi there is something that I need your help for”
A pause followed that made Anisha’s heart skip a beat. What if she refused on the pretext of being busy? But she relaxed as she heard Lolita come back on the line
“You must excuse me dear. I was a bit preoccupied … Never mind, I am all ears now. Tell me, how can I help you?”
Anisha narrated her request. She told him about Soham and the flyer advertisement. She explained about his talent and how he must be given the chance even if he is under-age.
“Please Lolita Mashi. You must do something” Anisha pleaded.
“Oh well, I never knew you were working with the slum kids Annie.That is a noble work indeed. Now let me think Akar Art Gallery. Whom do I know there? Give me a few minutes and I will call you back”
Anisha disconnected reluctantly. She hoped it was not a pretext to cut off her request. She waited impatiently and kept looking at her phone every few seconds.
Finally, at 10 pm in the night, Lolita Majumdar’s number flashed on her screen. Anisha picked it up immediately.
“Annie, I did get hold of somebody. But tell me are you sure this boy has potential. This is a very important scholarship and Bakshi will definitely not appreciate if I push in just a nobody through a backdoor entry.”
“You don’t have to worry about that Lolita Mashi. Soham is definitely not a ‘nobody’.”
“Hmm….why don’t you join me for breakfast tomorrow with your young protégé, Annie? And don’t forget to ask him to get his colouring boxes. It’s been sometime since I got a portrait done for myself.”
Anisha could have touched the ceiling with the jump she gave after the conversation. She could not wait to tell Soham this.
Furiously scribbling away at his sketch pad with a stub of charcoal, Soham was unaware of how his destiny was shaping up. He vented all his pent-up anxiety on the portrait he was making. He wanted the night to end hoping the morning would bring him some relief. He formed a strange picture himself as he sat hunched up over his sketch pad on the pavement beneath the dull glow of the street-light.
It was there that Anisha found him when she came looking the next morning. He looked young and vulnerable as he lay stretched out on the pavement clutching his sketch pad to his chest.
“Soham!”
He sprang up and looked at Anisha. Her smile was like the first drops of rain on his parched soul. Did that mean she had good news for him?
“Didi?” he looked at her hopefully.
“I think I came up with something” she said grinning broadly. “Meet me in half-an-hour with your colours and sketch pad. And remember to put on a good shirt and look smart.” She said ruffling his hair laughing.
Heady with expectations, Soham had pulled out his new shirt that Madhurie had bought for his birthday, from the metal trunk where they kept their clothes. His mother was not in the room and he did not want her to know anything just now. He collected his art materials in the sling bag and swung it over his shoulder. Brushed his hair carefully to make it sit properly and not stick out in the usual way. He then stepped out to carve out his destiny.
One hour later Lolita Majumdar sat looking at the young boy who was busy scribbling away at his sketch pad. He looked up frequently to get the angle right or ask her to move her face more towards the light. Other than that, she could see he was lost in his own world. There was no semblance of the young boy who had sat staring nervously at the breakfast spread a while earlier. This was an artist who was immersed in his creation. A slight smile curved her lips as she knew she had a winner on her hands.
After 2 hours, Soham stood back to critically analyse his handiwork, satisfied at what he saw he handed it to his model. A pregnant pause followed as Lolita Majumdar froze when she saw herself etched on the paper. Every single detail including the slight curve on her lips was captured beautifully. It was as if Soham had read into her mind and had etched her thoughts along with her portrait. She looked up at him and then at Anisha. Her mouth agape in wonder.
“Wait here a minute!” She said as she quickly recollected herself and rushed inside.
Anisha and Soham waited anxiously.
Lolita returned smiling. “It’s all settled! Soham is entering the competition.”
Soham could not believe his ears. Anisha hugged him hard and thanked Lolita profusely.
“But Soham, I have spoken very highly about you. You have to live up to it. Your entry must be something that will make them sit up. Remember, you will be competing with people much older than you.”
Soham stood silently and then came forward to touch her feet in gratitude.
Lolita’s eyes moistened as she looked at the young boy before her. The long-lost mother in her threatened to break through her sophisticated veneer.
“Good luck!” she said softly as she quickly turned away to hide her tears.
On their way back, Soham was unusually silent.
“Have you thought of your subject for the competition?” Anisha asked.
“Not yet!” said Soham.
“Start thinking then. It’s just another week away”
Soham nodded thoughtfully.
The day of the competition arrived and Soham was still not sure what he would draw. His mind was all a jumble. He left early before his mother returned from the temple. Madhurie returned to find the vegetable and groceries lying on the floor where Soham had left them. She wondered what was wrong with the boy. He had been silent for the past few days. Moreover, she hardly saw him nowadays. She decided she had to talk to him once he was back.
Anisha was waiting at the venue for him. She saw Soham walking towards her hesitatingly.
“What’s wrong Soham?”
“I don’t know what to draw Didi. I could not think of anything” he said nervously.
“Relax Soham. You will think of something.”
“But what Didi. Where do I look to for inspiration?” he said panic starting to rise within him
“Your life Soham. Think of something from your life”
Soham felt clammy when he took his place at the easel marked with his name – “Soham Kumar”
He felt strange. He had never seen his name printed anywhere before. All his life he had names thrown at him, vulgar and crude ones that had made him cringe. However, this one he had created for himself and one that he wanted to keep shining like it did now on the metal plaque stuck to his easel.
Something clicked in Soham and an image flashed in his mind. He picked up the brush and started drawing. His brow scrunched up and his hands moved deftly as he got more deeply engrossed in his work. After he was finished, he stood back to look at it as he waited for the judges.
Soham ran all the way back home. Like always he wanted his mother to look at his work. No amount of appreciation was ever enough for Soham without her approval.
Madhurie was bent over the little stove in their room making lunch when Soham barged in.
Soham! What is wrong? Where have you been?”
Without a word, he dragged her out of the room.
“Soham wait! Where are you taking me? Let me atleast put off the stove…Soham”
Soham hardly listened to what she was saying as he seemed like one possessed. He continued running dragging her behind him. They part walked and part ran the distance from their house to the art gallery. Madhurie could not get anything out of him as to where they were headed. All he said was,
“You will know when you get there”
Madhurie noticed a small crowd gathered before a building where Soham was taking her to. Feeling self-conscious in her plain printed sari, she wrapped it around her shoulders. Soham led her up a flight of stairs where some more people were gathered. They were crowding around something but Madhurie could not see what.
She recognized Anisha who walked up to her smiling. “Madhurie Di…Soham’s done it!”
Madhurie smiled at her hesitatingly, not sure of what she meant. What has Soham done?
As the crowd moved, she noticed an easel on which stood a portrait. It was Soham’s work no doubt. She could recognize the strokes anywhere. It was of a female form. The woman was draped in a Sari that was being pulled at by pairs of dark, dirty hands. The hands were trying to grab and pull her down. The woman however was looking towards the sky and she was smiling.
Something about the woman looked familiar to Madhurie. She looked closely and her face broke into a smile. It was her own face she was looking at complete with the little mole on her chin. Soham had done a beautiful job, she could see that. Then her eyes glistened with tears as they moved towards the woman’s shoulder. Soham had attached a pair or large wings and the woman was flying into the sky. The portrait was one of the best that Soham had ever done till now.
She looked around to hug her son when she saw him talking to a man, obviously a reporter who was asking him something. As she moved closer, he heard her ask,
“Soham, the judges have decided to give you a prize money of 1 lakh in addition to the Scholarship.”
Soham looked up surprised. He looked at Anisha who suppressed a smile knowing full well who was behind the additional funding.
Soham realized the man was speaking to him again.
“Any plans of how you would like to spend it?”
Soham stood still. He looked at his mother and said simply, “I will buy wings of freedom for an Apsara”.
Photo by Hakan Tahmaz from Pexels
