The caricaturist, the writer, and the artist?
- I haven’t seen the caricaturist for a while. The boat she was on, capsized. She clung to the sides while the waves lashed out on the boat and flung her aside. Last I saw her, she was bobbing up and down on the violent seas…a ghost, a speck, a point…and then nothing.
- I have been meeting the writer off and on. The humorist, she told me, is dead – the romanticist thrown in a dark dungeon of her own mind, only the realist continues to grapple with the truth, writing stories that don’t end.
- The artist is alive – feeding her emotions, stoking her expressions, painting her canvasses – loading them with truth.
When and if the roles will ever change again, I haven’t a clue.
But if the past is any indication – the caricaturist doesn’t die, the writer keeps transforming, and the artist usually is the glue that keeps the three together.
Until December then…
Shafali's Caricatures, Portraits, and Cartoons 
She in all her incarnations is missed.
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Thanks Viv. It’s been years that we spoke. How have you been?
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The last years have been hard and challenging, I think. You’ve seen I lost my dad a few months ago, but it’s been a tough time from even before that, with family issues (my mum’s dementia being one aspect) and my own health going more and more awry. But I’m still battling on, a bit slower, a lot greyer (my hair’s gone a fabulous shade of silver-gilt that I am told it very fetching!) and still writing when pain and energy levels allow.
It was good to see your post pop up and I hope that you too will begin to find a comfortable way and more hope.
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I’m fine – just transforming. I have become more aware of who I am and who the people around me are – and I believe that when this transformation ends, I’ll have become a better me. Fingers crossed.
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LYF
Sent from my Samsung Galaxy smartphone.
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Thank you, Sir.
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