The Goddess Of Smile Part II- The Painting shrouded in Mystery
The painting's secret is shrouded in mystery. It was briefly displayed at the exhibition and vanished just as quickly. Her smile was captivating, emanating a brilliance that surpassed even that of the Mona Lisa.
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Photo by Skitterphoto
Leading up to the interview with the owner, my mind is
filled with a mix of good and bad dreams. I arrive at the address, my heart
racing with anticipation. As I ring the doorbell, I am greeted by a young
woman, no more than thirty-five years old. She leads me into the drawing room,
but to my disappointment, there is no sign of the dream painting I hoped to
see. The young woman then asks me to take a seat, as if she is the one
conducting the interview.
I can’t help but feel a sense of confusion and
disappointment. I had requested a meeting with the artist, not her daughter. As
I try to make sense of the situation, the young woman introduces herself as
Melissa, the daughter of Jo Brinson, the artist behind the painting. My mind can’t
help but wonder if Jo had somehow managed to stay young, given that the
painting was created back in 1985.
Melissa explains that her mother had passed away, and that
she is now the heir to the painting. I am puzzled, why anyone would keep such a
valuable artwork hidden away for decades. Surely, it deserves to be viewed by
art lovers and appreciated for its beauty.
As I ponder this, I took in the sights and sounds of the
room. The walls are adorned with various paintings, but none of them compared
to the one I had hoped to see. The room has a musty smell, like it hadn’t been
aired out in a while. I can’t help but feel a sense of disappointment that the
painting isn’t on display for me to see.
Despite this, I know that the story behind the painting is
still worth hearing. So, I continue with the interview, my mind racing with
questions about the painting and the artist behind it.
“I found this in one of my mother’s suitcases, with a note
attached to it and a request to keep it private. She had allowed to show it in
an exhibition with the condition that nobody should photograph it and not to
sell this. But after just one day in the exhibition the organisers told me that
it might be difficult for them to honour my mother’s wishes as they feared
someone might sneak in a hidden camera and photoshoot it. I brought it back
immediately.”
“It’s shocking. It deprived many art lovers like me from a
once in a lifetime opportunity.”
“Will you like to see it again?”
My heart almost leaps out of the rib cage. “I am dying to
view it again.”
“Can you assure me you don’t have a hidden camera, somewhere
in your body or in this bag?”
I let out a chuckle and stand up, twirling around. “My eyes
are my only camera,” I assure them. I then take my handbag in my hand and show
them all the sides.
“Don’t worry, I trust you.”
Melissa gets up and vanishes into another room. The next
moment she comes back with the portrait and places on the table. I am
mesmerised again. What is the story behind this smile? And also the little
girl?
“It was not my mum, but
was the wish of the mother of the child in the picture.” She sits in front of
me. The room is quiet, except for the faint hum of the air conditioner. I can
smell the freshly brewed coffee from the nearby cafe. As she speaks, I feel a
sense of understanding wash over me.
“I understand. May I get …”
“I will tell you what my mum had written on the note.”
“Please.” I take out a water bottle from my bag and drink
half of it, knowing very well water alone can’t quench my thirst.
“She was a terminally sick girl, only seven years old. She
loved dancing and had a desire to perform on stage. My mum, Joanne, was a dance
teacher as her hobby. This is where she came into the scene. Besides working as
a dance teacher, she was also an artist. Again, a casual painter. I never
remember her showcasing any of her pictures to the public. She was always
underestimating her own ability as an artist.”
My eyes wander around the drawing room in case another such
picture is on any of the walls, but find none. “I am sure your mother is a
great artist, and most of the arts on your wall are her creations.”
Melissa lets out a smile and gets up. I am unable to
understand what happened. Did I say something inappropriate?
She goes inside a room and brings a toy. A doll. A girl in a
dancing pose.
“The girl whose painting Mum had drawn gifted this to her.
That was the day before she died.”
Emotion takes over my interest in the drawing.
“While volunteering at the children’s hospital, my mum met a
girl who had a strong desire to dance on a real stage in front of a live
audience. Unfortunately, the girl’s mother had dismissed this dream as
impossible due to her daughter’s weak physical condition and limited time left.
She had attempted to teach the girl to dance in front of a makeshift audience
consisting of hospital staff, but the girl was not satisfied. At her age, she
could distinguish between a genuine audience and a pretended one.”
I take the doll in my hand and examine, as if I would find
some clue. “What was her name?”
“I don’t know.” She swallows. “I really don’t know.”
Melissa’s eyes look guilty. “Mum hasn’t written in her letter to me. She was
calling her Fairy. I think it was just a… how do I explain…like a screen
name. Or a name she wanted to refer to her. My mum’s dance students were about
to perform on a stage a few weeks after and she spoke to the organisers if they
could accommodate the girl’s dance as a special case.”
I put the doll back on the table. “Did they agree?”
Smile comes back on her face. “Yes, they did. And Mum
visited the hospital daily and taught Fairy some simple steps which would be easy
on her, taking consideration of her physical situation. She was confident Fairy
would perform well on the stage. The passion she showed while rehearsing the
steps forced her to believe in the girl. But she had doubts if she would
survive until then.”
The story warms up the air. I am sure Fairy survived until
then. “How was the program?”
“She was given the third slot in the program before a live
audience of almost a thousand people, so that she would be sure it was a real
dance program. And she performed really well up to Mum’s expectation and the
roaring claps of the audience.”
“I hope I could find some recordings.”
“Unfortunately, no. It was 1985. Mum hasn’t told anything
about a recording. I have checked all her belongings and found none. Again, without
enough detail, it would be impossible to find Fairy’s mum or the organisers
after decades. Fairy was really happy, and she sat in the audience to watch the
rest of the show that evening.”
I stare at Melissa, patience running out of me. “Then?”
“When the show finished, Fairy’s mother was about to take
her back to the hospital. Both mother and daughter came to meet Mum. It was
then she took out this doll and gifted Mum. The little girl flashed a grin, her
eyes sparkled with excitement that Mum couldn’t ignore. Upon returning home,
Mum felt compelled to capture the girl’s smiling image on canvas, her way to
keep alive the smile even after the girl’s death.”
“Was it the smile that encouraged her to draw?”
“Yes, that night she couldn’t sleep. She hoped if she could
have captured that in a camera, but it was only for a few moments. She gave the
smile a life on her canvass and finished it by the morning. That was when she
got a call from Fairy’s mother.”
My heart jumped loudly against my ribs, as if the scene was
in front of me.
“Fairy died that early morning.”
“It is so sad.” My eyes pool as if the incident is a fresh
one.
“Mum named the painting: The Goddess of Smile.”
I know I won’t get another glimpse of the picture after this.
“Why your mum wanted to keep it confidential?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it was Fairy’s mother. She was apprehensive
her daughter’s photo might be used for commercial purposes and she had told my
mum when she said to her about the painting.”
That is enough for me. I thank Melissa for her time and
leave her home. Somethings are always printed in a person’s mind and the human
doesn’t need any physical or electronic copy for remembering the same. Wasn’t
it a fact before photography was invented?
The Goddess of Smile will always thrill my memory.
I pick up my handbag and thank Melissa.
All Stories on this Blog Site are purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to anyone or any incident is purely a coincidence. Copyright by Shrimant. All rights reserved.
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