A Whispering Brush

A whispering Brush...

Short Story.

By Ayaz Ali Kolachi.

Scene 1...

It's a morning filled with hope to tread along the same paths of monotonous living and dreams to dwell on the new edges of possibilities.Amir Hussain is awake again to get on with his work. He is a mural painter whose life is concentrated in blending an array of colours everyday. These colours also correspond to his moods of life; it's green,red or blue mostly,but turns jet black on days when he isn't himself. He is a man who is astride between two cusps where he crosses neither lacking the dare to introduce himself to a brand new world. The fears and surprises accompanied by divorcing one's routine life are often lethally intolerable for most people. Leaving behind the usual self to chase a new You always needs a venturing heart. Amir seems to lack it.

The soft light of the rising sun barges through the windows of Amir's unkempt studio, illuminating canvasses,brushes and paints cluttered like dead sentinels who have died in a battlefield and were left behind by their comrades.

Amir sits inside this studio, cross_ legged on a dusty rug that hasn't been washed for centuries. His life has been exactly the same as millions of others like him who have dreams,but lack the financial mileage to chase them.

He is staring at a blank canvas like a wandering traveller gazing out at as if he was witnessing an uncharted sea.

He knows, soon this canvas will have a mural displaying the intricate arches, shimmering silks,and colours ablaze with a nostalgic touch that will transport people back to the days of yore,when Mugul empire stood at its mighty grandeur.

By this time,the glow of the light stealing into his studio is getting warmer, urging him to hasten.

His palette is worn,wooden rectangle,scarred by thousands of paint _ stained finger prints and splatters.

Soon he begins to paint with his eyes still bloodshot from the night's sleep.

He draws a peacock with a kaleidoscope of blue and green feathers.Its neck stretches towards the heavens with a graceful strut.

Enchanting vines and flowers entwine the borders with their tendrils curling around the peacock's neck like a lover's embrace.

In the background is Taj Mehil standing with its minarets growing towards the sky like slender fingers.

The mural is finally ready after 4 hours,and the first impression flowing from it is; a magical labyrinth of colours bursting forth , showing as if the Mughal Empire has another resurrection.

Scene 2....

After finishing this painting,Amir stood gazing at his canvas, trying to make sense the nuances of the painting he had sketched.

In these four hours while he was rooted in his work,he found the brush in his hand,stroking colours on its own. It was as if the brush wanted to vent up: to tell a story perhaps.

The sun was ensconced in the sky now with full blaze, streaming down its beams ,some of which penetrated Amir's studio as well.

The temperature in the room was climbing up,and so was Amir's curiosity.

Amir was now perched in a sofa in his studio, relaxing and sipping a tepid cup of tea.

His studio in the old Anarkali area was situated in hidden passageways.It wasn't a pleasant place to visit.The air was often thick with the fragrance of paints and linseed oil. The walls showcased his art works with dazzling portraits evoking imagination of the onlooker..The floor of his studio had smudges and splatters . Scattered across the floor were paint stained rugs,crumpled paper,and discarded brushes that showed his passion for work.

The studio was full of a pool of lights that illuminated every corner of it making it look compact but a cozy space..

While still propped in his sofa,he set his eyes upon the latest painting, figuring out a possible artistic interpretation. But his gaze was lingering,and trying to decode the subtle meaning of each brushstroke in the painting.

Amir wasn't able to completely absorb his portrait. one thought that constantly invaded his head was: Can I go back to those bygone days? Can it come to life..

He wished he had the power to enliven his pictures..He was often deluged by these eccentric thoughts in which he wished having the power to draw pictures that could come to life..

Today in particular,the cusecs of his thoughts were overflowing the banks of his mind..

At last,he started to move close to his painting , with his eyes scanning the canvas intensely. Suddenly,he noticed that his eyes had fallen upon something new in the room..

He moved across to his couch which was already piled high with his artworks and pictures of his junkets to different places.

There in a corner lay a mysterious wooden box that was carved with eccentric signs.It had a rectangular shape with a bewildering aura.It was dotted with intricate carvings on the right side..On the top of it was a moonlit forest with a mythical tree called Elyria,whose branches stretched skyward to embrace the heavens. It also showed the carving of a bustling market featuring a merchant wearing a headgear,and lashing at a man who looked gaunt with a pinched expression.Both were separated from each other by a spiral sign that sat between the two. The box looked worn out,but radiant and clean.It looked as though it had fallen from heavens.Or may be some ghost had placed it there. The box had never been brought there by Amir or any of the visitors.

So where did it come from?

" What is it and who has put it here" Amir talked to himself overcome with surprise and anxiety. His mind was racing with questions and the box was pulsing with eerie energy. Amir ,for a while,felt frozen as shivers jetted across his spine.

While still reluctant,he came across these words inscribed over the left side of the box:

" Enter the World That Enlivens Everything '.

This got Amir breathing hard and frequently, cowering from the mysteriousness of the box.He was endeavouring to play cool ,but was stumbling onto the same thoughts of consternation again and again.

The question now pounding the walls of his mind was: Should I unlock it?

Scene 3...

He was lost in the influx of his thoughts, trying to bet on whether to lift the lid or let things be the way they are.

Thrice,he tried to unlock by stretching his fingers over the lid of the box,but pulled back each time out of a killing fear that he had never felt before. His hands were trembling as blood gushed across his vessels in the body.

For a moment,who he was and where he was had faded from his thoughts. All that mattered for him at that time was what to do..

He was foolishly or fearfully expecting a soft,ethereal glow marching out of the box and converging into a Hollywood style genie. "It might be muscular,tall,and ghastly creature with a tall build and chiseled jawline",he told himself to convince his curiosity from doing the undesired..But his desire had become a genie in itself, wanting to unlock it,come hell or high tide.

Upon its release,this creature with an ornate headgear would serve him thrice by fulfilling three wishes. Then it would depart That's what he thought as anyone would,who binges on the Hollywood horror.

In the meanwhile,there was a knock at the door, which nearly deracinated his feet. He stood up trying to recollect the compsoure of his shaking body,but couldn't hide his vacillation between excitement and apprehension. His face had turned pale and clammy,and his lips looked swollen from chewing and biting in that state of horror. . He lurched and careened towards the door.

He unlocked the latch of his door and saw Mr Ibrahim hobble in..Mr Ibrahim was in his 70s,and had rented his shop to Amir..Both shared a strong bond as Mr Ibrahim often called Amir his son.

With the arrival of Mr Ibrahim,Amir's nerves returned to normal .At least,he was trying to write off the unreal experience that he had & whose reverberations still rocked the poise of his thoughts.

Mr Ibrahim visited him every fortnight and both sat together for hours .Mr Ibrahim had been a travel maniac during his days of youth and would often describe them in a fuzzy manner. His chutzpah of youth was still young,and that is what got Amir to sync with the old man for hours.

Today, however,Amir was drowning in the abyss of his own world that just had that box at the centre.

Amir wanted to share it with Mr Ibrahim,but feared being subjected to some scathing derision. So he dropped this idea of sharing it with his shop owner..

In the meanwhile,Amir went to his small kitchen with only tea utensils available to prepare a cup of tea for Mr Ibrahim.

Mr Ibrahim loved tea prepared by Amir.

They say together and Amir requested Ibrahim to share snippets from his interesting globetrotting events.

Mr Ibrahim started by telling him about his experiences of trekking rugged mountains in Africa,and island hopping in Greece.

But Amir was merely pretending to listen.At heart,he was still stuck in the box.

Sensing this boredom in Amir,Mr Ibrahim started to talk about his past experiences to cheer him up.

Then midway,he stopped and took a deep breath as if he was remembering something.

After a short pause,he continued " Look Amir..Life is a fleeting sojourn.We are young,and turn into brittle bones not even knowing it. One day,we disappear without a trace.When I was young and travelling to distant lands,I had heard many tales about eternity and inanimate things coming alive. One day I was passing through " Aethoria",a country deep in the African continent,where I met some tribals called Chromans. They had stange tales to share. One of them was about the celestial oasis named "El'goroth" that lay in the south of Aethoria. According to tribals,there grew a tree called "Elyria" whose branches grow skyward. The branches that touch sky become eternal.. They also told me another interesting fact: Any human being who severs one of those branches will acquire the power of bringing non_ living things alive. Plus,they told me the tales of Kairos_ the painter who had torn those branches and used the brush made from

them.

Whatever Kairos drew came alive including the elders of Chromans according to them..But one day,Kairos paid the ultimate price..As he drew a dragon with that whispering brush_ vitalis_ the dragon came alive and gobbled him up..The brush, according to them,disappred afterwards and was reported to be found with other painters,who used it and then vanished without a trace. I wish I had that brush_ Vitalis,since I would use it to bring back days of my youth by portraying myself on a bike with leather backpacks that I used" said Mr Ibrahim,while finishing with a faint smile.

Amir was taken aback,as he suspected that Vitalis lay in the box he had found.

" Sir..What did they tell you about the Brush and how it reached different Painters " asked Amir to confirm his doubts.

" I think they told me that the brush was often found in a rectangular wooden box with painters who were considered utter failures in their fields.They named two such painters Lyra and Kael ,who had got that brush and had met the same fate afterwards" Said Mr Ibrahim..

" You know Amir the real problem with humans is their temptation to overdo things which finally devours them" continued Mr Ibrahim..

The sun was now plummeting below the horizon. The streets full of hum now began to empty, declaring the demise of that day.

After Mr Ibrahim left, Amir felt even more flabbergasted. He knew after Lyra and Kael, may be it was his turn to use Vitalis now.

Finally,he opened the box and found a brush inside with a slander handle made from the wood of Elyria,as per Mr Ibrahim's legend of Chromans. The brush looked like having the essence of forest distilled within.

The real dilemma for Amir now was to decide whether to use that brush or not.

Finally Vitalis was here before Amir's sight.

Amir's heart and mind were locked in a quandary on the whispering Brush.

" I have the power to empower the world now.Or this power would cost my life" said Amir to himself still undecided on what to do with the whispering Brush.

Scene 4

It's already 9pm. Amir spent the whole day confronting mysteries..Each time he felt it was ok to feel ok with it; the tide of his ideas surged in a different direction.

He was dead tired now with bones cringing. But he was still tentative on what to do. He was embroiled in a strange situation. Imagine being given the pen of destiny in your hands,when you feel you don't have a destiny at all..It feels like crowning an African slave as the king in a kingdom in which he was once sold as a slave for a few bucks... Amir's situation wasn't much different..As a desperate painter who struggled to make both ends meet,he now had the power to pump life into anything that he could draw on the canvas.

Finally, after being deluged by ideas of caution,he decided he was going to use the Brush,but unlike Lyra or Kael,he won't be bringing wrong things to life.

For a while,his mind accelerating at a high speed couldn't settle on what to draw with that Brush first..

But then,he decided to draw a picture that in his view would encompass the gist of the latent desires of his life. Ones that he had always wanted,but believed were impossible to manifest.

His resumed drawing at random . His strokes with Vitalis were queer. He ended up drawing a majestic woman, the treasure chests and an opulent palace with a scintillating white facade. Unconsciously ,he was unleashing things that he had yearned for. His fiancee had broken off, because he wasn't wallowing in money. The palace signified his wish to live in a royal swag,and and treasure chests demonstrated his will to win the battle against the pinching poverty that had made him live in his studio which had bleak walls,and was nothing more than a crumbling shack. He was tired of seeing empty pots and pans hanging limply from the ceiling everyday.

The moment he finished his painting, he found himself in the midst of a rising morning sun surrounded by strange people,who were all watching him in his trousers as if he had come from Mars.

Amir was baffled. He was trying to make sense of a rising sun, when infact a little while earlier,he stood in his studio with night still stretching its curtain over the sky.

Suddenly,he turned around and saw a swarm of people running. A pandemonium had erupted with people running towards the palace which was at some distance from Amir..Not very far as he could see it

All of them looked panicked as their faces were filled with worry and urgency. Amir still disoriented with his teleportation was swept up in Chaos. As the people ran on ,Amir was grabbed by two men who were mistaking him for a doctor or Hakim'as they called him. " Iam not a Hakim ' said Amir by pushing them back mildly.But they won't listen.

" Look Young Ali Syed.. Your father Hakim Ali Tayab was a great man,who won everybody's heart including Shah Jahan's" said two courtiers Rashid and Zaman.

" Today the queen is giving birth to a child and is in danger it looks. Normally,the king allows only female nurses to look after such matters,but the king ordered for Hakim's son to arrive and take matters in his hand..Look anything happens to Begum Arjumamd,king would bury us all.You will be the first to grave" said Zaman panting.

He was dragged to court,where Shah Jahan sat beside Arjumamd Begum ,also called Mumtaz Mahal. He held her hand and hoped that she would be alright after the delivery.

As soon as Amir arrived,Shah Jahan stood up and ushered him to Queen's royal bed where she looked in distress from pain.

" Save her Ali Syed for Your Father Ali Tayyab was a magician Hakim. If You save her, you will wallow in Gold" Said Shah Jahan..

Amir was shivering in fear now. He knew Vitalis had teleported him to Shah Jahan's palace,and it was 1631 Ad.

He immediately pretended as a doctor or Hakim knowing the gravity of threat. Unfortunately, Begum Arjumamd died during the delivery after giving birth to a baby girl.

On hearing this,shah Jahan was enraged and grief stricken. He lashed out at Amir,now acting as Ali Syed as the curse who had brought such a calamity to this court.

Shah Jahan ordered his arrest and had him thrown in a a dark dungeon .

In that dark cell,Amir knew he would be hanged and tormented before it by the king.

Just when he was hopeless,he saw Vitalis pop out of his trousers. He immediately picked it and started drawing his studio on the wall without a paint. The brush was still wet to his luck and he was able to draw his studio..After that,he had a strange sensation,and found himself waking up at the door steps of his studio. It was early morning again and he found himself in the same old studio that he had detested the most.

But now he found it a heavens. He had realised that palaces take life. Better off reeling from desperation and poverty than getting into a palace and living life in a dungeon. It was a new lease of life for him..

" What am I going to do ? Now that I know my dreams are my assassins,should I reconcile to this failed painter's life" whispered Amir in his mind..

He was feeling like having luck without being Lucky.

.

Scene 5

Amir wasn't able to reconcile with his present reality. He was acting like an existentialist who lives life but decries it at the same time. The present always looks bad,until one meets a future that reminds us of the worth of those bygone moments. The worth of time lies in thoughts. It doesn't lie in hours,days or weeks. One single moment of fulfillment is far better than living a life that kills every minute..

Nevertheless,as days passed by,the footprint of the previous experience began to fade from his thoughts. It is a common tradition among the humans to stop valuing experience once it's old. We confine it to the past,and are eager to repeat the mistakes,so that we can have its pain or pleasure again.

Thus,Amir was bent on using Vitalis again to do the impossible. Maybe he was thinking of drawing something that could shower oplienece on people and they would be rid of their bankruptcy that is far lethal than death.He a had a brush that could stroke things to life .Now what else.. Perhaps that's the true us..Even if we have the power to resurrect the world for the better,we would prefer resurrecting our needs first. Thank God we are not gods..Else each god would have crafted the universe to suit his ends.

A few days later,

Amir stood uneasy in his studio bumping into the tide of conflicting thoughts.. "Should I draw another picture and land into yet another trouble or should I try something big.. Something that transcends my Individualism".thought Amir

Or should I discard Vitalis? The stakes were high for him. Abandoning it was an option and so was using it. The problem was to choose the menu of death. Painter's life was slowly poisoning him,and Vitalis was beginning to feel like a rat poison. That's what he thought his life had become.

However,the poor and the needy often have the tendency to overthink. Their needs are manifold.But when they acquire power beyond their imagination,they tend to be humanistic. Amir's painful experience had turned him from an embarrassed money seeker to a man who was now thinking of diving into the past and changing the destiny of millions like him. The ultra rich consider this as the biggest problem with the poor. A poor man languishes but tries to vanquish the sufferings of others. The rich think that's why poverty is celebrated among the poor. They are poor, because they think about others. Be rich,they maintain,like us and make your own person the centre of all the striving and effort.. Amir's Poverty was now teeming in him,as he was thinking beyond his person..

Consumed by these uneasy thoughts,Amir lay on the couch in his studio with his right arm coiled around his head.

Suddenly,the door knocked and in came Mr Ibrahim. " I have noticed that You haven't been your usual self Amir . You seem troubled at head and heart. Your face tells me that a man is lost like this only when he has met either unexpected happiness or unexpected grief . In your case, both are true. You have your day's remuneration to cherish and the same to mourn if you don't get it" said Mr Ibrahim.

" No I am not gone from wits . I would like to hear more about Chromans and the magical Brush you had told me about " replied Amir to Mr Ibrahim.

" All great stories and conspiracies are hatched over a cup of tea" said Mr Ibrahim with a mischievous smile..

Amir came with a steaming cup of tea ten minutes later.

" Chromans had told me that once a person has Vitalis,he has to draw at least thrice on the canvas. Leaving it before three attempts will cost him a steep price. His body will perish and his soul will stray into Nefaria. It's a shadowy world,where there is thin separation between Mortal and immortal realms. A stray soul would inhabit other bodies without being able to seek salvation till eternity ' replied Mr Ibrahim while drawing a sip from the cup.

Amir was even more bamboozled. "The cost of my wish can't be so pyrrhic. I had only wished for a better life". he innocently thought.

When one is unhappy with his configuration in the cosmos, he tries to find one that he desires he deserves. But turns out,the former was much better than this self claimed placement.

For the next few weeks,Amir was faced with this quandary: Will it be death or an eternal trepidation and a cycle of death and rebirth. In those weeks ,he continued to curse his unlucky luck to have found Vitalis and become a lucky jinx..

Scene 6...

Amir was indecisive after his previous rendezvous with the Brush..

Days went by and ideas flooded his mind.. Whether he should accept what he is or should he change it forever and live in a world that he desires crafting for himself.

The reality seemed to eclipse with the entry of each new idea, compounding his doubts for the worse..

One night he fell asleep still caught in this firestorm of strange ideas stoking large scale fire in his existence.

He wasn't asleep but rather swirling between consciousness and sleep. A Gray area where man finds himself trapped between two worlds due to the swing of ideas. In Amir's case,his very existence and the find of Vitalis had made him question the reality of things.

He was poor ,and like millions of people,his sole kick in life was to earn enough to meet his expenses without piling debt. This phase of his life was marked with self doubt that had assured him unconsciously that he was a failure. But as Vitalis _ the whispering Brush was with him now_ the questions had tripled. His teleportation to Mumtaz Mahal and his close shave with death had him question everything. He felt like a stray camel in the desert that stretched on without an oasis. Deciding which part of the desert was better than the other had become vexing for him.

One question that frequently dropped on his nerves was the absurdity of life. Previously,he would question living in the times in which he was born. Then,he had the teleportation adventure in a palace,where fortune gave verdict against him and ended up throwing him in the jail of that palace. That challenged his sanity.

As a failed painter,all he had to face was a stream of taunts. But these taunts didn't terminate him. In the palace,he was identified as Ali Syed _ the son of a

celebrated Court doctor.. Fitting into his father's shoes had become the cause of his death from which he miraculously escaped. This had his mind spinning in more doubts even though he had now the power to create his own reality.. Like Plato's cave dweller,he was unable to decide, which reality is the real reality: the one he was living every minute or the one that he could create with his magical Brush_ Vitalis.

What reality should he paint for himself . The question was no more about which one would solace more. It was about which one would pain less. Besides this,he now possessed the might to undo the shackles of his fate and could freely scribe the new version of his life. But would it be more rewarding than the fate that he had been cursing the most..

In this battle with himself, he wasn't able to fall asleep. This night too,he was astride between two realms.

At the dead of night,he was awakened by the sound of something tumbling down..He wanted to turn on the lights,but couldn't as he saw a halo of the moon light entering his room with a brush having wings that darted in circles . He was nearly dead out of fear, trying to understand whether he was dreaming or he was awake.. Then came his moment of the truth: Vitalis_ the brush with wings started to speak.

" Amir..I see you perplexed and baffled my friend.. I see you as a lost creature,who goes island to island, searching for the meaning,but ending up murdering the same meaning eventually. Why have you made a mess of life..Why don't you start living and stop thinking too much"..

For a moment, Amir stood gazing at that winged creature, consumed by a swirling vortex,his eyes wide with bewilderment. To him,it all felt like a tangled web of threads refusing to unravel. But then,he got back his dare.

" I am confused! Vitalis. I was powerless and getting You suddenly has added more confusion rather than confidence. Don't you expect a common man like me feeling locked in a battle of nerves with a creature like you entering his life"

" You are the victim of your own inner world Amir ! My friend. You know,You have a problem with questions like Determinism and predeterminism. At one moment,you are rejuvenated at the fact of being your own master. The very next moment,you shy away from facing the responsibility that comes with power ".

' So what's the answer,if I am grappling with these questions. Do I have the free will to create my world of choice ,or is my path set into motion already "

" The truth lies in the nuances, my friend. Your choices are influenced by a tapestry of factors - genetics, experiences, environment - yet, within that web, you possess a spark of agency. The brushstrokes of your life are not entirely predetermined, but neither are they completely free from the constraints of the universe..All I can offer you to get over this mess is: You ask me to draw anything for you and I will comply. But then, whatever comes afterwards; you will need to have the dare and bravado both to deal with it. I am here with you for two more paintings, which will come alive.After that I will find a new master"

Amir was even more confused,but was finally resolved to overcome this mess.

" Vitalis..Do I have the choice to come back to the same life ,if I find myself not fitting into the new role"

" Yes sir...You have already used me once..Two more to go. If you find yourself uneasy,use me for the third time to lounge back into your same life that you are spending right now..But you won't have me available after three shots ".

So,Amir now had a choice: Change his reality for a while,and then ,come back to be himself again or live the new avatar ? Amir's was a perfect case of being the master and slave of his own destiny at the same time.