‘Thank you,’ she said again.

‘You don’t seem very modest,’ he said.

‘I don’t think modesty is a very good policy, unlike honesty.’ There was confidence in her voice. ‘I love appreciation. It helps me connect to the source of a person, sometimes even their heart. Like they say, beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder, so I love to connect with the beholder’s eyes, not the beauty—the source rather than the observation.’ Her words were too philosophical for him to comprehend. ‘How was your painting session?’ she asked.

‘It was good. But I don’t remember much of it,’ he said. Radhika shot him a questioning look.

‘Did you see my painting?’

‘No, I didn’t. It’s not about the painting. It’s about how you felt,’ she half-lied to him. She was actually quite curious to see his painting.

‘It was good. I mean, I don’t know. Sorry, I’m feeling a bit light-headed,’ he said. Radhika nodded and asked him to call it a day.

‘So that’s it?’ he asked, wanting to keep the conversation going.

‘Yes, that’s enough for today. I’ll see you soon.’

‘Soon? When?’ he pressed, eager to meet her again.

She bit her lower lip to suppress a smile. ‘Soon, Madhav. Don’t worry,’ she said as they rejoined the group.

Meera had noticed the way Madhav had looked at Radhika. They didn’t talk during the journey back to his place. He was quiet, thinking about his encounter with Radhika, while Meera seethed with resentment.

Meanwhile, Radhika and the other programme coordinators examined the paintings. They sat in a circle and discussed their observations. Radhika asked for Madhav’s painting. Suresh picked up an unsigned canvas and handed it to her. All the participants had signed their works, except Madhav. She took the painting and contemplated choosing Madhav as her case study. She felt an inexplicable pull towards his energy and his mind.

She looked at the painting; it was a picture of two boys on a hilltop, looking away from the viewer, dressed in what seemed to be school uniforms. One of the boys was in a wheelchair. They seemed to be looking at a small building. A layer of dark clouds framed the upper half of the canvas. Radhika was baffled by the intensity and darkness of the painting, wondering what repressed feelings might have compelled Madhav to create something like this. The painting was difficult to decipher, but it clearly indicated an underlying story.

Who were these boys? Why had Madhav painted this? What was he hiding? The questions haunted Radhika as she gazed wordlessly at the painting.

4

Golden rays streamed in through the window as morning dawned. The curtains swayed in the breeze as Madhav lay in bed half-asleep.

‘Please save me, Madhav.’ The words resounded in his ears as he struggled to wake up. Even after he opened his eyes, he was certain someone was whispering behind him, repeating the phrase like a chant.