In Plain Sight

 "You draw, is it?" Madhukar asked Yamini, his eyes alight with interest.

Yamini smiled shyly and nodded. "A small indulgence... That's all."

"I am sure it's more than that. You seem very sensitive and aware," he said with an appreciative smile.

Yamini laughed soundlessly, her heart fluttering a little at this handsome man's evident interest in her. "Appearances," she replied coquettishly. "I can be completely insensitive and brutal."

"And is that how your drawings are also? Stark and brutal?"

No one had ever asked her such questions. "I don't know. I mean, I don't know what others see in it," she replied evasively. Her paintings were her expressions, and she was not about to discuss them with a complete stranger, however charming he may be.

"But what do you say?" he asked persistently.

The temptation to talk...ah, who could resist? She couldn't, especially when he asked with such eagerness. "Mmm... Of course, I say all that I feel." She chuckled. "It is amusing how people miss seeing themselves there and willingly rant about 'people like that'."

He frowned, without comprehending. "People like that?"

"I mean, for instance, a neighbour was bullying her maid. When I showed her painting of her--obviously, I didn't draw her or the maid, but about how people sometimes treat others with disrespect--and the lady just went on and on about the need for compassion and kindness and what not."

He chuckled. "I get it... God! You are naughty!"

"Am I, now?" and she winked.

He took his phone out. "Tell me where I can see your art. Are you on Facebook, Insta?"

She nodded and felt a little shy sharing the handle on Insta. He immediately went to her handle and started viewing the paintings. Seeing them so engrossed, the hostess of the cocktail party walked over and said, "Come on, I didn't know you both knew each other and now you both seem inseparable!" 

That was a little naughty of her, but Madhukar included her immediately in viewing the paintings, "Just look at the strokes and the story in each!"

"Yes, yes," the hostess said quickly. "I will leave you to it. I have to attend to the other guests." She then added hastily, "I know how talented Yamini is. I keep telling her she must have a show but she just doesn't. Now, let me introduce you to someone who knows all about it... There is Renee... Renee, dear, come over. Remember I told you about my friend Yamini who is also an artist? Here, she has just been showing Madhu her works, and I think you must have a dekko."

Renee walked up with a smile and took the phone from Madhukar. "Oh, nice... I see... Hmm... Meet me sometime soon. I know a few gallery owners. We can work something out," she told Yamini with a patronizing smile and turned to Madhu. "I learned all about art and artists when my daughter showed such promise! Oh, you must visit us someday and see her works. She is amazing. She doesn't put them up on Insta or any social media, you know. I discourage her. Instead, I am planning a show. She is just 17, but seeing her work, you wouldn't think so! You must come too, dear," she turned to Yamini and said with a smile.

Yamini nodded and slipped away, glad of the few minutes with Madhu and already inspired by Renee's officiousness for her next painting. The need to market themselves or their loved ones... How often she encountered it. She pitied them and took that as a warning not to go down that path. She tried to think back to the conversation with Madhu--had she unwittingly boasted about her artistic talent, craving for attention?

That night when she returned home, she saw that Madhukar was now following her. She smiled. She got down to putting her ideas on paper. It was late, but when an idea gripped her, she had to get it out fast before she lost it. In any case, she would be unable to sleep.

She shared the painting on her handle a couple of days later. Madhu messaged her, "Great work. Do I detect anyone we know?" and added a wink emoji.

"Mmmm... You read too much into the lines," she teased.

She found he pinged every time she posted something, but the tone of his comments changed. From the comments being about the painting, it turned to being an excuse to initiate a chat, a little flirting. She knew he was married and she wasn't interested in him that way at all. And soon, the comments came only when she posted a photo of herself.

She laughed. He was just one among many she knew. Her personal photos, though she posted them rarely, got more likes and comments than her paintings.

She sat back, observing the drift of her thoughts. 'Got more likes and comments' - is that what she had been thinking? Was she really keeping count? Of how many likes she got for this versus how many for that? The numbers? Did they mean anything? Was she getting caught up in a number game of her own making? What did it matter, how many? Who was she racing against? Who set the rules of the game?

She looked at her desk where the designs she did for an architecture firm waited for attention. 

That had to wait. She had an idea for a parody of herself. When she finished, she sat back satisfied. Should she share this on Insta? Yes, of course... And this time, she wouldn't care how many saw or liked it. This was her release...    

When Madhu pinged her, he hadn't noticed that he was also a figure in the 'drawing', one of the numbers to be dropped by the wayside.