Brushstrokes of Destiny

Anjali was bewildered and stunned. The painting totally depicted her own life and Priya's as well. They both were twin sisters. The painting was drawn before their birth. Their mother, Chithra, had drawn and left those paintings. Some paintings depicted a treasure hidden in some place they didn't even know. And another one depicted their father, whom their mother had never spoken about. Now, the paintings told everything, who their father was and about the treasure. Both were on the verge of stopping painting and searching for another job.

The sisters stood in the attic of their old family home in Bangalore, the scent of old wood and forgotten memories thick in the air. The attic was dimly lit, the only light coming from a small window where the evening sun streamed in, casting long shadows over the canvases.

"Anjali, look at this one," Priya whispered, her voice trembling as she pointed to a large painting propped against the wall. It was a detailed depiction of their lives, from their childhood days playing in the garden to their teenage years, and even moments from their recent past.

Anjali's heart raced as she took in the painting. "How could she have known all this before we were even born?" she wondered aloud, her voice echoing softly in the attic. The colors, the details, everything was so vivid and accurate that it felt almost prophetic.

As they continued to examine the paintings, they found one that depicted a map, with a mysterious X marking a spot. The background was unfamiliar, an exotic landscape that neither of them recognized. "Do you think this is the treasure?" Priya asked, her eyes wide with a mix of excitement and disbelief.

"It has to be," Anjali replied, her mind racing. "But where could it be? And why would she leave this for us to find?"

Then they came across the painting that revealed their father. In the scene, a man stood partially hidden behind a tree, his face only partially visible. A scar on his left temple and a serpent logo on his right arm were unmistakable. "It's him," Anjali said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "Our father."

Priya's eyes filled with tears. "Why didn't she ever tell us about him? Why keep it all a secret?"

The discovery left them shaken. Chithra, their mother, had always been a pillar of strength and mystery, but these paintings revealed a side of her they had never known. They felt a mix of betrayal and awe, grappling with the weight of the secrets their mother had carried.

Their lives had always revolved around art, but recently, both Anjali and Priya had felt the pressures of financial instability. They had considered giving up painting and finding more stable jobs, but now, standing before these revelations, they knew they couldn't abandon their mother's legacy.

"We have to find him," Anjali said, her voice steady with resolve. "And the treasure. It's what she wanted us to do."

Priya nodded, determination replacing her initial shock. "But how do we start? Where do we even begin to look for this place?"

The paintings were their only clues. They decided to put their art on display at a local gallery, hoping that someone might recognize the landscape or offer insight into their father's identity. The gallery, an old building with high ceilings and a history of its own, was the perfect place to begin their quest.

The night of the exhibition was charged with anticipation. People from all over Bangalore came to see the works of the twin sisters, now infused with the mystique of their mother’s legacy. Among the crowd, a rumor spread that a sage, known for his mystical insights, would be visiting the gallery.

As the night progressed, the sage arrived, his presence commanding silence. He moved slowly through the gallery, his eyes scanning each painting with a deep, knowing look. When he reached the painting of the man with the scar and the serpent logo, he paused.

Anjali and Priya watched breathlessly as the sage studied the painting. Finally, he turned to them, his gaze intense and knowing. “This man,” he said, his voice soft but firm, “is your father.”

The sisters felt a surge of emotions—hope, fear, disbelief. “How do you know?” Priya asked, her voice barely a whisper.

The sage smiled gently. “I have seen many things in my time. Your mother’s work is powerful, and it tells a story that is both ancient and profound. This man is part of that story.”

He pointed to the scar and the serpent logo. “These are marks of a guardian. He was tasked with protecting something very valuable. Your mother knew him well, and she left these paintings to guide you to the truth.”

“But where do we find him? And the treasure?” Anjali asked, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and determination.

The sage looked at the empty space in one of the paintings. “Your journey is not just about finding them. It’s about discovering who you are and the legacy your mother left for you. Follow the clues in the paintings, trust in your instincts, and you will find what you seek.”

With these words, the sage left the gallery, leaving Anjali and Priya with more questions than answers, but also with a renewed sense of purpose. They realized that their mother’s art was not just a collection of beautiful images, but a map to their destiny.

Suddenly, Anjali noticed the scar and the logo on the sage. Her breath caught in her throat as she nudged Priya. "Look at his temple... and his arm," she whispered. Priya's eyes widened in realization.

The next day, driven by a mix of anger, curiosity, and determination, the sisters visited the sage's ashram. The ashram was grand, resembling a palace with its intricately carved pillars and sprawling gardens. The air was thick with the scent of incense, and the soft chants of devotees echoed through the halls.

They were led to the sage, who sat in a serene courtyard, his eyes closed in meditation. As they approached, he opened his eyes and smiled gently at them. "I knew you would come," he said softly.

"We found our father," Anjali said, her voice shaking with emotion.

The sage's expression remained calm. "Yes, I am your father," he acknowledged.

"What did you do to our mother?" Priya demanded, her voice laced with anger and pain. "What was your relationship with her?"

The sage sighed deeply, his eyes filled with sorrowful wisdom. "It was complicated," he began. "Your mother, Chithra, and I shared a deep bond. We loved each other dearly, but our paths were destined to be separate."

"Being a sage and having a relationship with a woman would tarnish your image?" Anjali interjected, her voice trembling with both fury and sadness. "Is that why you forced our mother not to mention the relationship?"

The sage looked at them with profound regret. "Yes, I was afraid of the consequences. I feared that my position as a sage would be compromised. I made a choice to protect my status, but it cost me dearly. I never stopped loving Chithra or you two."

Priya's eyes flashed with anger. "We won't accept you as our father," she declared. "You abandoned us and our mother."

Without another word, the sisters stormed out of the ashram, their hearts heavy with the weight of betrayal and unanswered questions.

Years passed. Anjali and Priya focused on their art and their lives, trying to put the past behind them. They eventually bought a plot of land to build their own house, hoping to create a new beginning for themselves.

As construction began, the place seemed hauntingly familiar to Priya. Suddenly, she remembered the painting of the treasure. "Anjali, do you remember the painting about the treasure? This place looks just like it."

Excitement and curiosity reignited within them. They retrieved the painting and matched it with the landscape before them. At the marked spot, they began to dig, their hands trembling with anticipation.

After hours of digging, they uncovered a small wooden box, its surface weathered with age. They exchanged a look of hopeful excitement and then opened the box together.