The Prodigal son

 

This is an inspired painting. I am not so proud to say that, because the painting is very amateur and the inspiration is not a good one either.

We live in a congested area filled with apartments. There is an old lady living across our room. Her room have one door and window opening to the street. There is a wooden chair covered with old cushions and pillow in front of the room. Her relatives live on first floor. There is no much contact between them. Usually she spends her day sitting on that chair if the climate is good.

She has a son, a prodigal son. He is a drunkard, probably with psychiatric disturbances. Nobody knows what he does for a living. He wears shaggy clothes, sometimes a jacket. He comes in the evening and bills gates his mother. This may go till next day morning. Whenever he start abusing her, she gets into the home and shut the door and window from inside.

Rarely have I seen them talking amiably. Even then she will try to keep the distance. He will sit on her chair and she will sit inside the room. She may serve some tea and biscuit through the window. Then he will have his tea and talk to her through the window.

I never understood why is he infuriated against her and I never tried to. Also one day when he was yelling at her, my roommate who was trying to study then, went to him and shouted in some strange language. To my surprise he left the place. And the roommate never explained what he told him in spite of my repeated requisition.

The prodigal son