He doesn’t write but paints

This is about a picture scrap which I received a fortnight ago from one my close friends. It’s an excerpt from one of the writings of Rabindranath Tagore. It really came as a surprise but at the same time moved me a lot.  Though it was written in Bengali I’m providing the English version here…

… 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…


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