‘Namaste, I’m Suresh. Welcome to Art from the Heart.’ A tall man smiled at him as though he’d known Madhav for ages. Suresh looked like he was around twenty-five years old. But his deep wrinkles and conspicuously flabby stomach gave him the careworn look of a much older man. In defiance of the humid climate, Suresh wore baggy canvas trousers, a khadi kurta and a rumpled Nehru jacket. His thick, curly black hair skimmed his collar and the stubble on his tired face looked about three days old.

‘So here at Art from the Heart, we paint our emotions. We paint what we feel. We hold art therapy sessions every month. The paintings around us were created by our previous participants. Perhaps you can see the emotions that influenced these canvases and that is what we want you to try to do today.’

Everybody was impatiently glancing around as Suresh’s speech came to an end. There were some tangible moments of connection between the art on display and the people present. But Madhav’s eyes were glued to Radhika.

‘This white canvas is just like your life; it’s entirely up to you how you wish to paint it. Each stroke of colour, each line you draw, represents the choices in your life. Painting exposes a bit of your soul to the people who see your work. Where words fail, colours and strokes convey. It is a way of connecting with your innermost self. And, more often than not, we surprise ourselves when we create this way,’ said Radhika, holding up a plain canvas. Her hair rippled around her. She was lithe and fit.

The volunteers began handing out paints and brushes and setting up the easels. Madhav stood up and went up to Meera.

‘Wasn’t this supposed to be an exhibition?’ He finally broke his silence, his tone cutting, even though he was rather glad to be there, having seen Radhika.

‘Umm . . . yes, it is. I mean it’s more like . . . Well, you always say you’re an artist, right? So I thought . . .’

‘I think both of you should start.’ A sweet voice from behind interrupted. It was Radhika.

She turned to the group and clapped loudly, making an announcement. ‘Okay, guys! We have forty-five minutes to complete this task. Just embrace the colours, the fluidity of the paint, the experience of creating something on a flat surface and bringing it to life. Listen to the story it is telling you . . . let the paint, the brush, the canvas, all come together to create this story, this memory.’ She spoke with a childlike excitement, laughing and clapping with abandon. Madhav felt as if his limbs were numb, as though he was falling in a dream, but without the inevitable jerk of awakening that followed.

He went back to his assigned easel as the volunteers handed out slips of paper with instructions to the participants.

This activity will ask you to perhaps face some unpleasant moments in your life, but with the goal of realizing and accepting them.

Paint a loss in your life. If you’ve lost someone or something you love, try to narrate the experience through your canvas. This will help you to not only remember but also to begin healing.