A Work of Art

A cold wind seemed to blow on his face as Aditya Yadav opened the window of his second floor flat. Opening his eyes towards the road outside his building, he saw on top of parked cars dewdrops coruscating under the morning sun. It was only middle November, but winter was already here. Another change of season in the bustling metropolis of Delhi, but it was only the season that changed; life unfortunately never did, its tedium frozen in mists of time. He shrugged and came back to the blank canvas fixed on a frame in the center of the room.
All I have to do is pick up the brush, dip it in the palette and start painting! He told himself. Why is this simple task so difficult for me? I don't want to do this painting. Why! Because I am no ordinary painter, I am an artist. Damn it, I know I am! I have the talent, so what if world refuses to recognize it. It is their problem not mine, people who buy art but lack the incisiveness to recognize a truly well done painting. He stood looking at the blank canvas with rising anger. He wished to rip the canvas off the frame. But he could never bring himself to do anything that dramatic.

He had to complete it, just as he had completed similar paintings in the past. After all, this was a paying job. 2500 Rupees! That is what he got every time he completed one such painting for Sujit Sen. Sujit Sen, the toast of city's cognoscenti! The painter that the city loved to rave about! Such was his popularity that Sujit didn't even have to wield the brush anymore. He could commission any penurious artist to complete a canvas, on which he would put his own name. That is all that the art-buying gentry cared for - the name Sujit Sen scrawled in dark letters at the bottom of the painting!