Well this is my first post as a contributor.
Today I was at my machine searching for some document. Suddenly I came across a picture.
On opening I found it to be something I created a few months ago. I created it after I received a picture scrap in ORKUT from one of my close friends. It was a photograph of a page containing an excerpt from one of the writings of Rabindranath Tagore. It really came as a surprise but at the same time the words moved me a lot. So I decided to adapt it and create something which I’m providing here…In English…
… don’t know who paints the picture of life in the canvas of memory. But he surely paints. That is, he is not holding the paint-brush just to imitate life in verbatim. He discards many things while keeping the others. He makes the big, small and the small, big. He never hesitates to interchange the front and the rear. In fact his work is only to paint, not to write history.
Truly, sometimes I do feel that it’s really hard to understand life and the ONE who paints it…
Signing off…
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