The Lady in the Painting : Short Story

 || Hari Om ||

The Lady in the Painting

With weary steps, the Artist boarded the train. Truth be told, he had been many things, even at a young age. Tried his hand at everything, even got a lot of acclaim. But he was a simple soul at heart. 

For the present, he was an Artist, and a weary one at that. The well of inspiration that added so much colour and life to his works seemed to be drying up. He was on a journey to his hometown, to rediscover some part of himself that had drifted off, as life took its course.

He sat down in the empty bogey and took a moment to greet his companion. She smiled back at him from the canvas: his most famous work: “The Lady “. She was young and vibrant, captured mid-smile. Truth be told, he had no idea who she was, or if such a person even existed. It was a face his mind had picked at random from the crowd. 

Over the  years, he had spent a lot of time with her picture and formed a lot of ideas about what she must be like as a person. He smiled at himself.  This was the fruit of solitude and an overly-creative mind. It was folly to look at a picture and try to get the measure of a person!

Lost in his own thoughts, he dozed off.

He awoke to the sound of a low and melodious voice. It seemed he had a human companion in the bogey, and she was having a polite argument with the porter. She expressed herself firmly in slow, measured words, and duly won the round. 

He turned to take a look at her, and almost jumped out of his skin. It was HER. The Lady.  The Lady in the painting. What astronomical odds, what conspiracy of God’s Hand had brought about this moment! That their paths should ever cross. Hastily, he returned the painting to its covered case. Keeping it visible would have been awkward beyond measure.

Presently, the argument was settled, and silence prevailed. She returned to her seat.

He looked at her again, the resemblance was very strong, though not perfect. To him, it seemed as if his painting had come to life. She noticed him looking, read something in his face and smiled mischievously: “You look like you’ve seen a ghost! I hope I don’t look that scary”

He smiled too. “ No, its just that I thought you looked familiar” 

The conversation sparked off, and they spoke for hours, hours that seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. They had very little enough in common, but it mattered not.  Both of them represented the missing pieces  of glass that completed their kaleidoscopic views of the world. There was  something about her voice, her manner, he connected so much more with her than he had with “ people like him“. One by one, the shells he built around his core fell away. 

She was very different from the picture he had painted of her in his mind; for he had seen her as he saw the world. And everyone is built differently. She was what she was, and she was beautiful.

They spoke of nothing concrete, but still spoke of much. They were parallel banks of a river, on their own separate journeys; yet the words built bridges they didn’t even know existed.

He felt himself getting immersed in the depths of the conversation, in the depths of her; and he was floating, not drowning. 

It is difficult to immerse yourself in the depths of a person, and emerge unchanged…

The train whistled, signalling the next stop. The spell was broken. She got up from her seat abruptly.

“ That’s my stop,” she said. “ I really felt good talking to you. I guess this is goodbye. I hope we meet again someday” 

An awkward handshake, and she walked away.

Words can change the meaning of a book. Seconds can change the course of a lifetime. 

In that spilt second, as he watched her walk away, the Artist realised something. The inspiration he was looking for was not a destination, it was a journey. And he had found the person he wanted by his side through it all. 

They say a single event can redefine your perspective. Shatter and rearrange everything you always thought was unbreakable, till you see the world again, in a new light. Often, that event is a person. 

He sat there frozen, a storm of a thousand thoughts flooding his mind. There was so much he didn’t know. So much that could go wrong. But there was only one way to find out. Time to take a leap of faith.

She was near the door now, she turned to wave out to him. “Goodbye”. Everything stood still. It was just the two of them, and a moment frozen in time. Then she smiled. It was a ray of purest sunshine that cleared all the clouds and pulled him out of his slumber.

Now or never. 

He got up from his chair of comfort, and took a single step forward…

The train lurched to a stop. The Artist woke up with a start, his heart pounding. It took him a moment to find himself. For a second, he was young and full of vigour. Then his eyes found focus; he saw his gnarled old hands, with parchment skin and the spots of age. A lock of curly white hair danced in his vision. The same soul, in an aging vessel.

He smiled. The memory of the Lady, of that day, always did that to him. Across time, space or anything else that had ever separated them. He turned to the seat next to him and looked at her, resting there. She still looked the same. The same glow, the same vitality, even after all these years. A lifetime spent together, and yet it seemed like just a moment.

There Lady was so much more than the picture he had painted. She was a person, full of beauty and warmth and so many imperfections. Just like him. Just like all of us are so much more than the pictures painted of us.

Their journey together had been a long one, but worthwhile, every step of the way.

He picked her up from the chair, and wiped a speck of dust from her frame. She smiled back at him from the canvas, an echo of that moment, so many years ago. He could almost see her waving goodbye. A single tear rolled down his cheek, not of sorrow, but of fulfilment, of gratitude.

He smiled back at her and said: “I think my love, we have reached our station.  Time to get off the train” 

So saying, they stepped into the sunlight.  Together. Always. 

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|| Shree Ram ||

|| Ambadnya ||

|| Naathsanvidh ||

|| I Love You my Dad ||

-DrArnavMHT 

14/4/22

Ward Stories-TMH Tales- Token No. 108

 

|| Hari Om ||

For those of you who do not know me personally, a brief introduction:

 

 I have completed my MD in General Medicine from KEM Hospital in

September 2020.

I joined Tata Memorial Centre, Mumbai as a Senior Resident in Medical Oncology in December 2020.

This is a collection of my thoughts and feelings that I have imbibed in my Oncology residency. This is a branch that not many are ready to step into. A branch everyone, patients and doctors alike, associates with suffering. But where there is suffering, there is hope. And in the midst of darkness, we appreciate the light even more.

At the end of the day, there is a lot more to learn from the patients than the diagnosis and management of their disease! Now, on to the story.

 

Token No. 108

Tired. A strange word to start a story with, but there it was. The Doctor was always tired. Happy and tired, sad and tired, but always tired. Tired was the way of life at the Hospital. So much so, that even though it was a holiday, he was still tired. A person who has been working continuously should jump to embrace the smallest amount of free time. But more often than not, they don’t know what to do, when they actually have time to do it.

He rolled around in bed for a bit, and then decided it would be worth it to at least see a bit of sunlight. He got up, unfolded his tall frame and dressed in the least battered clothes he could find.

He left the building without any real plan. His feet wandered one way, and his mind another. The previous day had been a storm. 150 patients in the OPD, or 150 “tokens” in Hospital lingo, even more than the not so modest 100 that came there everyday. And as the day wore on, everybody grew more and more worn out. Patients and doctors alike.

Without realising it, he reached the entrance of the park nearby. He hesitated at the threshold. It had been a very long time since he had interacted with people other than those suffering from or treating disease. Anyway, a walk couldn’t hurt.

So he followed the beaten little walking path and soaked in the smell of the wet mud as the gardener watered the plants. He heard the chirping of sparrows after months and the birdsong sparked long forgotten feelings in his weary soul. The sunlight played hide-and seek with the shadows of the rustling leaves. He was mesmerized.

Everything was so ordinary, and yet so alien to him. Slowly , the Doctor remembered what it was to be human, and to celebrate the small delights of the soul. A part of him was surprised that such simple beauty and warmth could exist so close to a war zone, the battlefield between health and disease. For a moment, a wave of despair washed over him. He wished he could have more time to himself, more time to spend appreciating life as it was. 

His trance was broken by the sound of children shouting. He followed their little high pitched voices and found two children, a boy and girl, locked in a fierce argument over one of their toys. Their mother was seated on a bench nearby. He watched the scene from afar,  like the audience to a stage drama, appreciating this snapshot of how other people spent their time.

As he approached, he saw that the mother had an expression of such deep and profound joy, as if watching her children play was worth all the riches in the universe. In that moment, her face was awash with a thousand tiny expressions, so much joy, hope, bliss; and also a hint of pain and longing.  Suddenly, he realised that she looked oddly familiar.

She looked up as she saw him approach and raised a hand in greeting. He still couldn’t tell where he had met her. “ Good afternoon doctor, so nice to see you here. “ He knew now that she was somehow related to one of his patients , but still couldn’t place her. She saw his confusion and said.

“We met at the OPD yesterday . I was token number 108 !

I was in a lot of pain, and the medicines you prescribed have really helped. So much so, that I’m up and about today. I’m using this day to spend time with my children.  God bless you for helping me“

He bowed his head and accepted her blessing, said a hasty goodbye and walked away. He had tears in his eyes. To him, she had been a number, a diagnosis with a symptom that he had treated. To see her here changed his perspective totally, the world shattering and realigning  like the turning of a kaleidoscope.

For the first time, he saw the difference that a single medication could make. How treatments literally changed lives and brought smiles to forlorn faces. All the fatigue and work was worth it for this.

The next day, a new OPD. He was still tired.  They all were. But even in his weariness, he saw new light. He saw the patients as more than numbers; it was almost like he could see them carrying their families with them,  waiting to play in the park together. He could see now how he could touch their lives.

It may be the 10^th, the 100^th or even the 200^th patient for him, but it was a loved one, a dear parent, spouse, sibling or child for someone else. So he worked now with renewed vigour, realising that God had sent an Angel, a ray of guiding light  to show him the path forward. His world would forever be changed by Token No. 108

Author’s note

This story is a work of fiction, inspired by feelings and moments that may be completely different from these events. However,  it is also true that many of us medical professionals live a life of sacrifice, away from our loved ones, with almost no time for ourselves.  And in such trying times, it is such tiny moments of joy that give us the strength to keep working, to keep moving forward.

 

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-          Dr. Arnav H. Tongaonkar

       11/3/21

|| Shree Ram ||

|| Ambadnya ||

|| Naathsanvidh ||

 || Jai Jagdamba Jai Durge ||

|| I Love You my Dad ||

 

 

 

 

 

Poem-Twilight

|| Hari Om ||

A romantic poem inspired by the monsoon weather.

Twilight

The sunlight through
The leaves does dance
And twilight casts
A dreamy trance

A strange game this
Of hide and seek
The wind of love
And hope does speak

They stand, in silence
At the sandy shore
So much they speak
But hide much more

There are no words
For certain thoughts
Some feelings deep
And battles fought

At the eb and flow
Of the sea they stare
But to speak,
They do not dare

A fear deep
In love is wrought
That all of this
Shall be for naught

A fear that
This spell shall break
And leave them shattered
In its wake

Perhaps forever
They may have stood
So much felt
Less understood

But Love can speak
Without a word
A heart just beat
And the other heard

They walk the shores
Now hand in hand
A pair of footprints
In the sand

This twilight is not
The setting Sun!
For their dawn bright
Has just begun.

|| Shri Ram ||
|| Ambadnya ||
|| I Love You my Dad ||

-Arnav H. Tongaonkar

17.6.16

( If you liked this post, do post your comments and provide your valuable feedback. And do read my other poems and short stories. They are listed at the top of this page. A list of my blog post topics is also provided in the column on the right. Happy reading!)

Phoenix / Rise !!!

                                              ||Hari Om||
                                               
 Rise !!!                  

Light the fire deep within,
Feed it, let it burn bright,
 The only way to beat the dark,
Is to become the light.

Begin! Now! As you are,
Take a single step ahead.
Let the world unfurl before you,
Earth shake beneath your tread.

You are the chains that bind yourself,
The weight upon your back.
Spread your wings and you break free,
Rise, and don’t look back.

From the ashes, from the soot,
Be the flame that glows.
As, once, by the Lord’s voice kind,
Light from the dark arose.

Fall once and then once more,
But through the trials and pain,
He is with you, take His hand,
Rise and rise again!

You are the flame of love, of hope,
Light that cannot die.
By His Love, and By His Grace,
Rise Phoenix and Fly!!!

|| Shri Ram ||
|| I am Ambadnya ||
|| I Love You my Dad ||
Arnav H. Tongaonkar
30.03.2014

Should I ?- Her Reply

Hari Om

At the first

First glance I knew

We would be one

That were now two

Closer, closer

Step by step

Accross the space

That we had kept

Together, but 

Still far apart

For which of us

Would make the start ?

And I see the question 

On his face

As he looks off

Into space

Of course I know

What's on his mind!

To his heart,

Could I be blind.

He sees me watching

"Does she know ?"

The fear on his face

Does show!

So I smile,

And laugh I do

And his joy

Does shine through 

Our smiles, they are

Now here to stay

No word does either

Need to say !

|| Shri Ram ||

|| Ambadnya ||

|| I Love You my Dad ||

Arnav H. Tongaonkar 

23.1.2016

I Look Among the Stars

Hari Om

I Look Among the Stars

The time could never

Heal my scars

And still I search

Among the stars

In the clouds

I see your face

The wind so warm

Is your embrace

I walk, I try

Brave and strong 

For my love

It's not too long

The time is here

For me to fly

And join you there

Up in the sky

|| Shri Ram ||

|| Ambadnya  ||

|| I Love You my Dad ||

Arnav H. Tongaonkar

19.1.2016

Should I ?

|| Hari Om ||

Should I ?


A side-long glance,
Exchange of names
So began
Our little game

Drawn to each other
Moths to flame
So different and
So much the same

A stolen word
A secret thought
And in me
A battle fought

Should I ?

Speak my heart,
Bare my soul
Join the parts
And make us whole ?

But how am I
To gauge or guess
Will it be "No"
Or be it "Yes"

I look up, see her,
See her smile,
So she was watching
All the while

Does she know
What I just thought?
My heart with
Fear and doubt is fraught!

And then her laugh
So sweet and clear
That which I now
Hold so dear.

It seems that smile
I here to stay
I'll speak my mind
Another day


|| Shri Ram ||
|| Ambadnya ||
|| I Love You my Dad ||

- Arnav H. Tongaonkar
20.1.2016

I Know We'll Meet Again

                                                 || Hari Om || || Shree Ram || || Ambadnya ||

Recently, I had the privilege of participating in a short film project, titled "GRACE.", in the capacity of a scriptwriter. During the course of the movie, I composed the lyrics for an original song:

I KNOW WE'LL MEET AGAIN

On and on the Sun does shine,
But I feel its warmth no more.
Where once with you I was whole,
Now I'm just raw and sore.

The memory of your smile is all,
The hope I have inside of me
How I wish I could forget you,
And from my clutches set you free.

I hold the tears deep inside,
Smile despite the pain.
For this is not the end, dear one.
I know we'll meet again.

Once again we'll walk together,
Talk and laugh and fight some more.
Hand in hand, thought in thought,
Inseparable, as we were before.

          

 The lyrics are meant to show an intense longing, the pain of separation ,as well as the hope that all is not lost. That the two lost ones shall meet again.

These lyrics were subsequently converted into a beautiful song, by my extremely talented batchmates at KEM Hospital : Mihir Vaidya and Arya Shah, with the serene vocals provided by Prabodhini Gadhari, also from KEM Hospital.

Music: Original Composition by Mihir Vaidya and Arya Shah
Flute: Mihir Vaidya
Keyboard: Arya Shah
Singer: Prabodhini Gadhari
Lyrics: Arnav H. Tongaonkar
Movie: GRACE.

Readers can listen to and download the song from the link below:



I have really enjoyed participating in this venture. It was an enriching experience, one well outside our blinkered existence as medical students. It was also a nice change to move from "Poet" to "Lyricist". I hope that we will bring forth many such compositions in the times to come.

I will also present the movie here once it is completed.

Ambadnya to my beloved Dad, Aniruddha Bapu for always encouraging me to pursue my interests and not just be tied up in the chains of academics.
And it is by His Grace that these lyrics came forth. He is the writer, and I the instrument.

-Ambadnya Arnav H. Tongaonkar

                                              || Hari Om || || Shree Ram || || Ambadnya ||