Virtue and evil
 "Is art immortal?" Disciple asked. For master it sounded so sudden.
He was puzzled.
"Why do you ask that question? Anyway my answer is no. Art is not
immortal."
"Art is not immortal?" Repeating the master's answer, disciple fell
silent. He was deep in thought.
"You will realize it in a little while, son."
"Where are we going this time, master?"
Master didn't care to respond. There ensued a little silence, until
the elder stopped a passerby.
"Did you find him, painter?"
The painter turned towards him with full of interest in his eyes.
"Yes, yes. It's him. He is the perfect match for my idea."
Then only they saw a child besides the painter. He seemed to be a
12-year-old.
"I have been trying to finish my painting for years. But only now I
could find a perfect match."
"What is it you are drawing, painter?"
Painter smiled and responded: "I don't know if you will get it. I
have titled it as 'virtue vs evil'. I was looking for a human figure to
match my ideal of virtue. Even with some time gone, I'm happy I can now
portray the virtue."
 "Have you found the evil?" Master inquired.
Painter's face turned grim.
"Unfortunately not. Even for that I will have to wait for sometime
till I find the perfect match. For the moment I'm only concentrating on
this. I mean I should be happy with this, shouldn't I?"
They went to painter's home and saw him complete the portrayal of the
little child as virtue. They had a close look on a large blank patch of
the canvas allocated for the evil.
Time flew by. Painter grew old, but the work could never be
completed. But this unfinished painting drew much attention. Many art
critics started speaking of its immortality and universal message. Even
that large blank patch drew a lot of discussions. The painter became the
man of the century, though he could not still find a match for evil. The
painting remained as it is. Master and disciple kept in touch with the
painter too just to check if his mission was successful.
One fine evening the triumvirate was taking a stroll down an alley.
They happened to pass a tavern. Suddenly the painter broke into a shout.
"There he is - the perfect match. I could find him. Thank god he is
still safe."
Master and disciple peeked into the tavern and could see an old man
in ragged clothes on all fours struggling for balance. An excited
painter went in and got hold of him. They all carried him home.
The painter let the man take some rest on the sofa, and took the
unfinished painting. He was portraying the man in swift strokes as if he
would die the next moment. After some time the painter seemed so
relieved. "I didn't think I will ever find the perfect match for evil.
No I never thought so. Now I can die with peace."
Hours went on, and the old man regained his senses. Seeing the
picture he started crying. Now this surprised the painter, master and
the disciple. The man's face was buried in his hands. Everyone was
silent waiting for him to speak up. He did so, following some silence.
"Oh you haven't changed a bit! Don't you remember me, great painter?
You took me to this same place many years ago saying I was the match for
your idea of virtue. I never thought I will have to come here again."
Master and disciple looked at the painter's face. It looked frozen.
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