Yesterday one man came to my house, his daughter is 14, she has been learning with me on Sundays since four months. She is good, ji, very steady hand, better than many boys who come and go. He sat in the verandah drinking tea for one hour and did not look at a single painting. Then he asked what scope is there in this work.

I did not have proper answer.

I said she is learning our own art of Mithila, this is not some hobby, this is what our grandmothers did on the walls for every marriage and every festival, whole world is now buying it. He nodded in that way people nod when they have already decided.

Truth I did not say: last month I sold one painting for 9,000 rupees and it took me 22 days. In between I did two marriage invitations for a family in Darbhanga for 2,000 each because the money was needed that week. Her father is not a fool. He has seen my house. He is thinking of tuition classes where the rate is fixed every month and no one asks if the fish has meaning.

She will come next Sunday, I think. She wants to. But I am also knowing that one more Sunday and he may stop her.

We talk about reviving the art, saving the art. Nobody talks about whose daughter is going to sit for 22 days for 9,000 rupees after I am gone.