Meher stood in front of the doors of the biggest art galleries in California very well known and famous for its artistic paintings and sculptures. Her eyes looked up to envision the very name heading of the museum highlighted in bold letters.
Her eyes blinked upon, the sight of the name blankly with the very recognition of the fact that it was probably her last day abroad and with a certified conviction of finally being able to return back home tomorrow.
Cause after all nothing seems like homeland.
The air, the mist, the joy and that very patriotic fervour everything seemed to hit a sense of nostalgia which can only be felt when one is away from home.
With the very breath of relaxation Meher took a step forward entering into the premises of the art gallery as a last resort to spent some quality and spacious time alone by herself without any interaction.
Just eyes simply looking around admiring the beauty of the paintings.
That's what peace is.
The arena of the room seemed to be quite huge with white coloured shiny bright lights with a color coded theme of beige and white printed walls associated with the brown frames of the artistic pictures made the entire place seem heavenly aesthetic.
The place seemed not too crowded especially during the weekdays with few amount of people gathering infront of the art works, some clicking pictures, some sparing their enriching glance over the pieces, while some listening attentively to the narrations that were being uttered by the staffs regarding the history and backgrounds.
Her eyes glanced around intently pursing those glossy lips, with the grasp tightening over the rim of that white tote bag, she went ahead and stood before the sight of a beautiful picturesque.
Amazed at at what she saw.
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It was indeed a very beautiful scenario of an Indian setting being held up with such an explict art work being put up with fine and refinery detailings.
The very dressing style of the woman in the picture highlighted the classic Indian homage to the princesses and the other figure whose attire seemed to reminiscent to the time before the concept of westernization took all over India.
Meher quickly pulled out her camera inorder to capture the explicit beauty of the image as a memorandum joyfully.
As she walked around admiring the other works, there was a sudden sensation of a deep and captivating voice prevailing from behind at a distance; not being too far but it seemed as if it was present and was liberating from somewhere inside the room itself.
She ignored it although being mesmerized by the effect of the paintings and sculptures however, very it seemed as if the voice kept on approaching closer and closer with each step with Meher being absolutely unaware of it.
