The Canvas (standard:non fiction, 2129 words)
Author: Amit Gupta	Added: Oct 11 2001	Views/Reads: 3674/2384	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
This story belongs to an artist Vibha. She lost her husband and started painting as a hobby. At the mean time she got famouse.Her assistant Vibhoor loves her. Vibha felt that she was alone in this world. What happend at last. Read the story.

The Canvas By- Amit Gupta Vibha is an artist. A famous artist. Every one
knows her. She is extremely beautiful with sharp features. Last month 
she painted a portrait of an old lady, from then on she got famous. Now 
she is 35, and still alone. Completely alone with her paintings. 
Surrounded by sad paintings. Vibha loves to paint sad paintings. But 
she always looks happy with a fresh smile on her face. A sweet smile. 
Vibha’s smile is mysterious. She used to laugh and read a joke daily. 
This was her daily routine. She is also a good cook. When she feels 
that she is not tired, then she cooks food for herself. Vibha has an 
assistant. His name is Vibhoor. He is more than her assistant. He loves 
her. Vibha also knows that. But she never let him know that she also 
loves him. This is her secret. Many times Vibhoor has asked her why she 
always paints sad paintings? After listening to this, she always laughs 
and then simply tells him that no one loves to watch happy paintings. 
Every person wants to decorate their homes with sad paintings, because 
they know that they are also sad, deep in their hearts. No one in this 
world wants happiness and joy. They are decaying and going to die. They 
can’t afford to see joyful paintings.Vibhoor today asked her again. 
Vibha didn’t reply. She fall on her easy chair and a lighted cigarette. 
She laughed. She laughed mysteriously. Vibhoor couldn’t understand why 
she was laughing? He thought that she is going mad or she is sad. 
Completely sad. "Are you going mad Vibha?" He shouted. "Dear I’m not. 
You are going to be mad. Why do you always keep asking me this stupid 
question?" She took a puff. "I know Vibha that you are pretending. You 
keep smiling always, but you are sad. Why you are doing this? Why you 
are living two lives?" He also lighted a cigarette. "You want to know. 
Then listen. I’m alone. I have no friend. No one loves me. Cigarette 
and wine are my friends. They are my true friends. They never leave me 
alone. I love them." She was almost going to cry. There was a silence 
between them. The smoke was going to capture the room. Vibha lighted 
another cigarette. Vibhoor was watching her. He felt as if he is losing 
something. He made a drink for Vibha and said, "Can you become my 
friend?" "Why? We are just sex partners and nothing. We are enjoying 
each other. You know that I’m growing old and after a couple of years 
you will also leave me alone. You can’t become my friend. You are just 
saying to console me. Thanks for that. I’m not interested in you. Why 
should you ruin your life for me?" She drank the wine. "I love you." He 
smiled. "What? Do you know what it means? You are stupid. Don’t say any 
thing without thinking." Vibha laughed. "I’m not joking Vibha. I’m 
serious. I love you. I want to tell you that I fell in love when I saw 
you in your wedding reception. I love you. I love your sad paintings." 
He said desperately. There was soft music in the background. Vibhoor 
glanced at his watch. They still hadn't burned out their conversation. 
They knew they could never finish in one evening. Vibhoor said he had 
to leave. He arose. He felt himself unbalanced. He had too much to 
drink. "You can stay here." She said. "Why should I? You are not my..." 
Again he glanced his watch. "Ok. As you like. But if you are going, 
then don't come to meet me again. I..." She wanted to express her 
feelings, but withheld them. Vibha lost was in her past days. It was at 
her wedding reception that Vibha first met Vibhoor, her husband’s boss. 
It was a very brief encounter but it left an indelible impression on 
her- for Vibhoor was a man one could not forgot in a hurry. He was 
easily the most distinguished looking man at the gathering. Vibha was 
absolutely bowled over by his rugged good looks and his natural charm. 
But what was most striking about him were his eyes-turquoise green in 
colour, they mirrored Vibhoor's determination to get done whatever he 
wanted to do, at any cost.Vibha noticed that Vibhoor had an uncanny 
knack of making every women feel special. "I have never seen a more 
beautiful bride, Vibha," He said in his usual quiet voice. " Shiv is a 
very fortunate man. How I wish I had met you earlier than Shiv did." To 
Shiv he said, " All the best, Shiv. I am sure your married life will be 
full of pleasure and prosperity." When Vibha told Shiv that she had 
liked his boss, he was delighted. Shiv hero-worshipped Vibhoor and was 
simply fascinated by Vibhoor’s legendary rags to riches story. Son of a 
primary school teacher in Chandigarh, Vibhoor had exactly five thousand 
rupees on him when he came to Mumbai with a degree in English 
literature. And within a matter of fifteen years he had built a vast 
publishing empire by sheer hard work and iron strong determination.Shiv 
was Vibhoor’s blue-eyed boy. Vibhoor had made it clean on many an 
occasion that it was Shiv who would succeed him. Shiv could not have 
asked for more-a beautiful and loving wife, a satisfying job, a doting 
boss, Vibha was eager to meet Vibhoor. She had met him after her 
reception day. They often thought of calling him over for dinner but 
Vibhoor was busy.The second time that Vibha met Vibhoor was on the 
thirteenth day after Shiv’s death. His death came as a shock to 


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