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Shankarappa woke up at 5 am. This was a waste. His awful wedded wife had screeched the house down all through last week. There was no choice today. He was at the centre by 6 am, receiving pots of ink and a brush. He sneered at the brush while eating his complimentary upma. What an insult. What a joke. Could this even be called a brush? What would the legends say if they saw him now? His muse had stopped speaking to him years ago, practically five minutes into his wedding. And now he could hear his anti-muse, his wife, all the time. Even when he stuffed cotton in his ears. He straightened his shoulders. He'd show them all. As the girl stepped up to him fearfully, he concentrated. Jackson Pollock my ass, he thought. I'll show them abstract art. And he went to work. The entire polling booth went silent. He smiled triumphantly. They knew they were in the presence of genius. Why, the girl even started shedding tears, looking at her finger. Unexpectedly, it was going to be a good day. #jacksonpollock #abstractart #daubs #painters #fiction #painting #abstract #voting #polling #vote #karnataka #elections – #regrann @lafictionista

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