My Mr. Artist

Chapter 20

SARANSH, being the middle child of the eldest couple, Vahin and Paawni Awasthi, had its own advantages and disadvantages. His older brother, Shivin Awasthi, was everyone's pride, and they all had expectations for him to be the best, while his younger sister was everyone's joy. Even his very own strict grandfather would give her one-in-a-billion smile. Whereas he was just a quiet kid who would be invisible most of the time.

Also, being a part of a family with such high social status had become both a barrier and a cage filled with rules. Where his siblings had perfectly fit into this lifestyle from childhood, he was the only one struggling in everything—from scoring good marks to making friends his age, or just earning a smile from his father and grandfather. Being an introvert didn't help either.

But there was one thing he loved with all his heart and soul, something that became his happiness—painting. When he had difficulty expressing his emotions in words, he would draw them instead. It had become his only solace since he was a small child, and he was happy in his small world with just him and his art. He even got his first friend in art class—Arnav, his most special person after his brother—and he was truly content.

Once, when he was in 8th grade, he won first prize in a national-level art competition and was chosen to represent India in an international art contest. He thought that now he would finally make his grandfather proud.

That night, when he went home, his grandfather was waiting for him with a deep frown on his face, eyes staring straight into his soul. Saransh, in all his excitement, had forgotten that to get inspiration for his drawing, he had skipped two of his final exam papers—and that day was the result day.

But what he never expected was for his grandfather to order one of the servants to burn all his art supplies and drawings, telling him to stop fooling around, to learn from his elder brother, and to focus on studies. His grandfather had said painting was a good time pass for a child, but now that he had grown up, he should focus on being something—on doing something his family could finally be proud of.

With that, Saransh crumbled and threw his certificate away. After that night, he never touched a paintbrush again.

Life went on. The thirteen-year-old boy grew into a twenty-year-old youth, studying abroad at one of the most renowned universities. He chose to study Administrative Management, as he was one of the heirs of the Awasthi Group and was expected to manage and run the company alongside his brother.

When he thought he would never reconnect with his passion again, he met Mr. George, a great artist famous worldwide for his unique painting style. Saransh had been drawn to one of his paintings, which, ironically, was not even for sale.

So, after using some resources to get an appointment, he found himself standing in Mr. George's office. At first, he only wanted to buy the painting, but when Mr. George asked him,

"Why do you even want that painting for?"

Saransh stayed quiet at first, silently staring at the painting, and then said,

"This painting feels like that part of my soul which is still untouched. When I first looked at it, my heart stirred with an excitement that had died years ago—as if I'm a racer at the starting line, waiting for the race to begin, not worrying about winning or losing."

Mr. George looked at him with such intensity that Saransh almost felt like an open book before him.

"I'll give you this painting," George finally said, "but in return, you'll have to be my assistant for a whole year."

That moment became the turning point of Saransh's life.

For the next three years, he continued his studies while being Mr. George's assistant-cum-apprentice. Even after the agreed year ended, he continued—perhaps because he simply couldn't stop. He traveled to different countries, began painting again, and felt alive for the first time in years.