Fitoor: The Obsession

5: GRAND GALLERY OF FINE ARTS

Aditi had been staring at the blank canvas for at least an hour, not wrapping herself around the idea she wanted to paint. She had her tools on the floor, and the lack of inspiration was causing her creativity to spindle. Sure, she knew she wanted it to be something unique but unique was not good enough. It needed a story.

Her past was the reason as the woman she was today. As a child and an adolescent, her emotions got the best of her, and she preserved them in her art. It became a habit. Now, every piece she painted felt like a sorrowful love letter to her past self. That child would never sleep peacefully; knowing what future she had to wake up to.

She was ready to pull at her hair and scream as loudly as she could when Zafar walked into the art room. "Rise and shine, sister!" Then, he made a comment that made her feel no better. "That painting is really coming together."

"Shut up, prat," she muttered, tossing her brush on the ground. "What brings you here?"

"I have come to bless your meeting with my presence," he said, bowing down dramatically.

"I'm surprised your little brother didn't tag along."

"He thinks going to the museum is an activity for bores."

She hummed sceptically as she walked out into the living room, grabbing her bag.

"Let's go," she called out, "and don't touch anything, Zafar!"

The hour ride from her street to the Grand Gallery of Fine Arts was a quiet one indeed. Aditi's gut was in knots; she felt agitated. Zafar had tried to distract her his best but it was to no avail. He knew she got quiet when she was scared. Nervous, when she felt unprepared. The movement in her body made her feel uneasy. She hoped it would stop by the time she sat in front of Mr. Blanc.

The ride slowed down and the horses' hooves clicked softer. The young lady faced the window.

The carriage rolled to a natural stop and the first glimpse of the museum stole her breath away. Aditi's heart was in her throat as she tore her inquiring gaze from the museum to Zafar who smiled and squeezed hand, a silent offer of support for the morning. The door to the carriage was opened by the footman. "They're going to love you and if not– do remember, I am your biggest fan and will always be," he whispered, bolstering Aditi as best he could.

After contemplating for a moment, she yielded a nod and climbed out of the vehicle with Zafar following closely behind. The halls and rooms of the museum were almost silent. The only sound that could be heard was the tick-tacking of the visitors' shoes on the marble floor. Sometimes, an indiscernible whisper would break the silence.

Zafar hung back a few paces as Aditi walked through the atrium of the museum to the reception. Natural light flooded in from the tall windows and bathed the expanse in a soft muted glow. It curved around her as she walked across the room, her heels clacking ever so slightly on the shiny floor.

"Good day, how may I be of service?" the receptionist had inquired with a smile.

"Hello," Aditi returned. "I have an appointment with Mr. Blanc under the name Ms. Veer."

"Give me a moment. I will be right with you," he smiled, proceeding to check the book for a record. Seconds later, the receptionist confirmed her appointment and informed that his assistant will be with her shortly to bring them to the office. For the most part that they waited, soft music and drinks accompanied them. They were sitting in one of the many lounges of the gallery, slumped over a couch, when the assistant walked in from one of the corridors. "Ms. Veer!" he greeted. "I hope I did not make you wait too long. My sincere apologies if I did." He was flanked by a familiar figure.

"We have not been properly introduced," the man beside held out his hand which she graciously accepted. "Oscar, the littlest of Hendrix."

"It's a pleasure, Mr. Hendrix," she smiled. "Forgive me. I ought to rush. Mr. Blanc must be waiting for me."

"Of course," he said, stepping aside.

Getting a show with a gallery was much more than an impersonal arrangement between two independent entities where the artist supplied the art, they supplied the wall space, and then the artist goes on about their business while the gallery does all the rest. No, it was not that simple. The artist and the gallery owner were about to enter into a business relationship, a partnership of sorts, and hopefully one that will have a seriously positive impact on both their career trajectories over time.

Aditi leaned her back into the ergonomic chair, admiring the room. The space was divine. She wanted to stay here if it was possible. One could smell a mixture of two very distinct smells, shoe polish, and cologne. Although most of the room was organised with precision, the desk was quite unkempt.

There were papers scattered here and there in a disorderly fashion as if Mr. Blanc had come and gone hurriedly in order to find an important document. A black ballpoint pen sat underneath an overturned folder on the left-hand side of the desk. The rest of the writing utensils were located in a pen cup on the opposite side of the plant and the lamp.

"Let's talk business," Matthieu said, his hands folded over his desk.

"Absolutely," she responded.

Without breaking contact, he continued to speak, his blue eyes piercing into hers. "As you already know, our gallery carries only the finest of artists and since we are at capacity, your work is yet to be confirmed. I've seen the kind of art you produced in India and I must say the potential and talent you have is unfathomable. I trust you. I have discussed it with my board and we are willing to give you a chance to make your first international debut in our gallery but only with a condition."

"And what is the condition?"

"You will need to produce six pieces in which at least half needs to have buyers by the end of your debut night. Let's not forget our share of forty-percent. It is only then we will consider you as a seasonal artist."

"Make it thirty percent."

"Done. I assume we have a deal?" He stood up, extending his hand. Aditi mirrored his movements, shaking hands denoting their contract.

"Now that business talk is over, perhaps, I could still interest you in a dance?" Matthieu asked, his hand still holding hers. Her face had relaxed, taking on a curious expression. "I don't understand."

"I'm hosting a ball on the twenty-third of this month. Can I expect your attendance?"

She blinked, tilting her head. Aditi knew this wasn't just some little invite to a ball with a friend. Not with the way Matthieu was blushing and looking as nervous as he did. "Sure, I would love to come. Thank you. Do send me the details," she smiled. "Oh and I expect to see all of the talk we had in paperwork including the deadline that you have set for me."

The man suddenly relaxed, a big grin appearing on his face as his blush went away. "I will. Yes, I will. I will send all of it along with the invite. It will take sometime to get the documents ready."

She laughed. "I'll see you later, Mr. Blanc."

Matthieu almost melted into the floor by the way she said his last name. He was unable to say anything back as she gave a small wave and headed out the door, leaving him standing there red-faced with his entire body hot and frozen in place.

What a surprisingly good day.