It is the predawn hour. The eastern sky is breaking out purple. The young couple has spent the night at some abandoned brick structure outside their village. They are getting dressed. She is tying her hair in a bunch in the back. He is helping her by holding the tasselled string. The end of his yellow garment is still on her left shoulder. They are sitting on a dark blanket. Her red blouse is under her. Garlands of red beads are adorning their waists. His wrists, arms and neck are adorned with garlands of white beads. So is her neck. Branches of a leafless tree have sheltered their secret hideaway. Their village in the distance is on the bank of a winding river. A sliver of moon and a morning star are in the sky. Look closely. They have painted each other’s bodies with replicas of that same moon and the same star. Peacock feathers are adorning their meeting place. A paint brush is seen in the lower right corner. There are many other tell-tale signs of how they spent the night together. But they must get dressed and tidy up before they leave. Hopefully no one will know or suspect their secret rendezvous when they sneak back into their respective homes.
It is a delight to view the original painting and discover the various details each pregnant with subtle purport. He is of a certain shade of blue and she is of a certain shade of bluish green. They are transcendental to caste and creed. The rasa in this painting is familiar to anybody anywhere who has ever dreamt of Love.