The Painter

by Arup Banerji

My friend came to visit me for few days, so I gave him a room whose windows would open to the main road. Across the main road just opposite to my building there is a huge bungalow which is quite old, at least 100 years old.

I was told that the bungalow was owned by a painter but nobody told me if he is alive or dead. So, I presumed that he is alive. I wanted to meet him eagerly as I wanted to get my portrait drawn by him but I was a bit hesitant.

I met my friend after 15 years so we were awake till 2:30am and were busy discussing about our past. My friend could not sleep that night as the light from the painter's hall room kept bothering him.

The same thing happened on the second night as well. On the third night he asked about that house and about the house owner. He also seemed to be quite interested to meet the painter. So I told him to meet this person. He went to meet him late in the evening. He then introduced himself to this painter and also told him about his wish after some time.

The painter took him to his main room where he kept his paintings and also showed him his own painting. He found the painter's own painting and out of curiosity asked him how he has managed to draw his own painting?

He then said that he died 4 years ago and then he drew the painting by looking at his own dead body. My friend started sweating profusely when he saw the painter's hand coming out of his shawl without any flesh and holding just a paint brush.