I must confess at the outset that I am no connoisseur of the arts and when it comes to abstract painting I can hardly make head or tail of it. Yet I never fail to make the rounds of exhibitions much like the cognoscenti who congregate at art and fashion shows.

My brush with art however took an interesting turn when I made friends with an abstract artist, who had a fair name in the market and who was to quote a couple of art critics “a Hussain in the making”. A visit to my friend’s studio found him painting away furiously, working on a new canvas.

A stroll round his studio left me staring at a number of what I thought were half finished works of art. But my friend, who had in the meantime joined me, enlightened me on the various paintings proffering explanations for each one of them. This left me more perplexed. But worse was to follow.

Leading me up to an easel he encouraged me to try my hand at painting whatever came to my mind. I was no artist and had never reached even double figures in arts at school but soon managed to work up some sweat and fill the canvas with paints of all hues. The finished product looked like something that the cat had brought in and left me ashamed of my handiwork.

Isaac however appeared to be thrilled by my maiden oeuvre. Now sign the painting and make sure that the signature is indecipherable, he said. I followed his orders to the letter. “But who will buy my work”, I queried Isaac. “Wait and watch”, replied the maestro. The story however does not end there.

A few weeks later I received a call from Isaac giving me the glad tidings that my work had been sold for a couple of lakhs. So this really is the art of the matter I thought. No wonder every Tom, Dick and Harry is enrolling in art institutes these days, I surmised.

As for me, I resolved never to paint another canvas while in my mind I pitied the genuine art lover who had invested in a painting by an ‘unknown artist’.