At the northern edge of Kolkata’s older arteries, where walls show layer upon layer of repainting and repair, this one caught us off guard. At first, just a face. Then, quietly, another. One figure becomes two — depending on how you look. No big statement, no dramatic reveal. Just clever lines doing their thing. The powdered pink holds everything together like a breath you forgot you were holding. Deeper reds highlight key shapes. And right underneath, almost hiding, those blues — like water sliding just under the surface. Maybe it’s a goddess. Maybe a quiet conversation. Maybe both. Either way, someone here knew exactly what they were doing.
