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Mitali Jain

My high school and college life was pretty simple, unlike the ones in the movies and TV serials that people were more fascinated about, I had something which a person with the high and wild imagination would say utter boring.

Most of my days would run out with me surfing around the art galleries, with many brochures, a new artist in my mind and if sometimes not that then a new genre that somewhere, I myself would have created from anything around the life would have sounded interesting.

For the ones who would have met me for the first time, I seemed to be a pretty interesting person. Some who were impressed by my dialogues would as well think that I was an artist myself. But pray tell those poor souls, I was someone who couldn't even draw a straight line, and though it wasn't needed that one needs to know how to draw a straight line, in free hand, pretty much you must know that, clearly I wasn't someone who would paint or sketch or Draw.

I am, was a simple art dealer. Hence, from the age of 17 when I came across my first painting which was the famous, 'Mona Lisa's painting', I had my life pretty much dedicated to paintings. When I had announced about perusing art as my carrier and was inspiring to be a curator, my dad had said with a laugh,

"I am not that surprised about your decision; Instead, I was scared if you would end up doing something else you would only get into a huge mess."

But there were things that as well had worried me. In the later years and months of my degree and post-graduation, when I would be up late at night, thinking what would be my carrer in a country where only 1% of the population knew what was the difference between an oil painting and a watercolor painting?

One of such nights, when I was still brooding, my brother had walked up to me and had said, "when we believe in that 1%, when it comes to saving someone's life why don't you think, this 1% is your chance to change the life of the other 99%"

And it was since then my will to change the 1% to the other 99% had begun. My job as the assistant curator was pretty amazing, though I had been working here for almost a month now, I realized how difficult it could be to just bring out something on the show which could be understood by all, and enjoyed as well.

One such thing was occurred during the second half week at the gallery. The summers had started with its peak, with a lot number of tourist, it somehow amazed me that it wasn't that difficult as well to get a few people to come about and have a look at the paintings.

The best part of the day would be when I would be summoned myself for a few queries that any of the visitors would have.

It was during that week when I had first met him, dressed in his most casual attire, his hair gelled up , the dark shades hung loosely in his breast pocket as he had stood by, 'Vincent Van Goh's two of the famous paintings - the ' wheat fields with crows' and 'wheat field under cloudy sky'. The way the paintings had his interest had made me want to retreat back to my cabin, back to my work for the first time, instead of attending to the visitor.

But alas, he had questions, I had work and to be back there I had to address him. Hence I had walked closer to him and as well stood there, but rather than attending to him, I was once again mesmerized by those two paintings.

Many authors had different views for it, people who studied paintings more than I did, around the world had so much to say about it, but I ... I felt entirely different of what Van Goh would have wanted to say.

"What do you think is this really his last painting?" the Man standing beside me, to whom I was summoned for, asked.

"Everyone has his own story, I think this could be his last... or maybe not, but again from what I think of this painting, it's just like his life." I turned about and faced him, my chin rising a bit as I searched for his eyes, just the way he did and waited, waited for him to ask the ultimate question and when he did, the small curves of my lips lifted in amusement as to how curious he looked.

"the first painting that he drew, though was a bit shady, but somehow it was bright, like one's life... there are ups and down but there is always some kind of brightness in it, whereas the later one, it looks more beautiful, serene, but as well dangerous with no light, no brightness only awaiting the end which none is aware, if it ever arrived or not."

"Just the way none would ever know the end of his life as an artist. As a human, everyone knows but ..." I leaned in a bit and whispered, "does anyone know when did he die as an artist?"

For a long time we had stood there in the hall, with other visitors looking around the different collection that we had put up this season. And by the time I would have wrapped my mind to the words that I had said, the person standing in front of me laughed, the one wherein he let his head fall back, the one laced with amusement and sincerity.

Somewhere it had as well made me smile.

"I am Daksh Chauhan, I recently moved down here from Delhi, and you are?" his question shouldn't have surprised me as much as it did, but, sobering up a bit, with the faint traits of his smile still lingered on his facial features he extended his hand for shake. Taking up his offered hand, I shook it slightly and gave a smile of my own "I am Mitali Jain, I am the assistant Curator out here."

"Ohh, I was meant to meet you, and here I thought I would have to convince some old wrinkled man to let me have my favorite piece.", it was then I realized, his name was quite unique. But his statement had my more interest than any other aspects of his speech.

"I can surely assure you we have the best people working out here, so what can I assist you with" I smiled at him as we began to walking around the hall. The paintings from the 18s and 17 hung on the wall proudly. Each of the paintings had different story, not just behind their idea,

Mr.Chauhan looked carefully at each and every painting that we moved around, his eyes were like that of a hawk, focused, penetrating and though not judgmental, yet curious. The whole hour that he observed and looked around the gallery he had many questions for me, he would like to know a few dates, places, some paintings would be so enticing for him, he would stand there for minutes and keep on staring at them as If he was about to write a thesis on them.

After an hour when finally were at the end of the hall. "Are any of these on sales?" he asked, stiffing his pockets with his hands.

"These are for the summer collection, once the exhibition is closed you can always take it with you... but yes you can bid for it now and may be at the end of summer we could post it off to your address?" though I had sounded so calm and serene at the outskirts, from inside I was ready to jump about.

It was for the first time that I was making a deal with someone... I was meting someone who was ready to buy paintings that would probably cost corers of Rupees.

It was then I realized, Mr. Chauhan, wasn't someone who was just interested in the pictures the way I was, he was someone who had an ability to go ahead buy the ones that he liked and make them his possession.

"So which one do you want me to keep aside for you?" my voice sounded so unlike me as I , as I took hold of the small note pad that I had bought with me, to write down certain notes of this meeting.

He smiled me as if he was someone who had caught the secret of an untold mystery and tilted his head as he watched me with his scrutinizing eyes. It was surely making me uncomfortable, but somehow at that moment all I could have done was to take deep breath.

Not able to withstand his gaze, I cleared my throat and called out to him, "Mr. Chauhan, what paintings do you want me to keep aside?"

"It's Daksh for you Mitali, we have a most amazing similar interest, and it would be shame to address each other in the old and stiff professional manner."

Though I couldn't depict any of the underlying meaning that were there in his words, but I as well couldn't help but agree with what he said.

If ever we were to meet again, with the same interest and the interest being my occupation - and on these facts which is highly possible, it seemed sensible to be friendly with each other.

"Alright than Daksh which paintings do you want?" I gave him one of my huge smile as I readied myself to note down the names.

"umm, it's quite difficult for me to decide just yet, I would give you the names of the artists that I have loved here, you choose the paintings and send over..." I noted down what he asked for and waited for any specific requirements that he needed, but when I couldn't hear anything else, I looked up to find him looking out at the "wheat field and crows" painting,

"And with each of the selected painting I would love to receive a card with you specifically telling me what is it that these painting means according to you."

Stupefied with his request I kept on staring at him as he dived his hand inside his back pocket and took out his wallet and pulled out his visiting card. Handing it out for me to take it,

"Give me a call when you are ready to take the list of the painters, I would have many in my mind right now, I would just like to filter them out and get back to you."

Clearing my head with the swarm of questions that were jumping in my head, I asked him the possible time that I was needed to call him back.

"How about end of the week?" he kept on looking at me for a long while as I nodded my head in approval he gave a small smile and had taken a leave from there that afternoon with the brochure in his hand and a visiting card in mine which stated his details.

Chauhan

CEO - SAIFY FOUNDATION

CO-FOUNDER - KAPADIA TEXTILES.

It was than I had realized the meaning of the words, "how small the world was" as I stared at his retreating back.

a/n

Hola everyone,

Firstly i have a question how would you all like it if i were to post a fact or the main reason or what motivated me to write a particular scene or any specific detail of the story? Let me know what you guys think of it.

Is it true that Enchanted pursual is about to reach a 100 views in just a weeks time?? thanks a lot everyone for giving this story a chance. its been a while since i had started with something new and its really exciting to be back at writing. how i had missed this all.

since the day i had posted the first chapter and i had finished with the first 6- 7 chapters of the story in my rough draft i was dying to post it up for you guys, but finally its Wednesday and here i am (and luckily today my college was in the morning, you believe i was literally on the thoughts of bunking college so that i could just bring this chapter out.)

so this is the second chapter of the story, and i hope it is worth your read. the chapter isnt completely edited hence there might be a few mistakes here and there. please do point them out if you think they are major ones.

coming back to the story, what are your thoughts on Mitali, Daksh and their small encounter??

especially what do you say, how small could the world actually be??

also if you guys think these chapters might be a bit off or something, than i assure you once we get deep into the story you will surely be as agitated as one is during their exam results. I have tested this with my friends and hence i am saying it.

also you can mark your Wednesdays for Enchanted pursual, i have decided that these are going to be the days when i can really take a brake and post up the chapters for you guys.

rest assured.

dont forget to leave comments, votes and spread the story around your friend circle.

happy reading.

cuteminger a.k.a Yadni (my friends prefer yadu though)