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Latha and my dad were talking and became friends.Latha used to wear nice sarees and nighty and usually talks to my dad.My mom was in Ooty for other work and she was busy there for 18 weeks. My dad’s and Latha’s friendship grew and Latha’s husband was in Delhi. So my dad and Latha became good friends. I used to always have doubts cause the friendship was growing too deep. Dad used to go and eat food there and talk and they did some business together for their living. Then for a business meeting, they had to go to Chennai and after that, they became good friends, I had a huge doubt in my mind. A few days later, my mom and sister left for Ooty. I saw my dad making plans to leave me to my friend’s house and I agreed.But the same night around 7 pm, I saw my dad going to Latha’s house, so I and my friend went to her window to see whats happening. My dad sat in the chair and Latha was making some food and my dad was like, “We are free for 3 days”.Dad: let’s continue what we left in. Paint on my brush, I attacked the paper in short bursts. Focal points, Doc had called them. Just a quick stroke to establish where the eye would be led. Six women focused on the reclining nude. The nude with her eyes fixed on me. Two unnoticed in the background shared a kiss. When the stunning vocals of “The Resurrection” in the last movement pulled at me, I could feel Sandra pulling the comb through Kate’s hair, loving every strand it touched. There were only highlights scattered around the paper. The pencil sketch beneath was beginning to disappear.Grieg, Symphony in C Minor. The room began to take shape. It was not what I expected. I thought it would be a dark medieval castle. Torches would cast deep shadows. But instead I found a Parisian lady’s boudoir, pre-World War II. The men were off preparing for conflict—negligent of the women they would leave behind. The ladies entertained themselves in the rooms of Mademoiselle Katarina—a decadent 1930s slumber party. A fire burned in.
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