She has scarcely attained to womanhood. She runs around on the grounds of the palace of her father the king, mischievously keeping her handmaidens on tenterhooks in their never-ending search for her. She is bursting forth with life and fecundity, the beauty of her fulsome youth unbeknownst to her yet. In this oil painting, she is captured in a moment of stillness.
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She has scarcely attained to womanhood. She runs around on the grounds of the palace of her father the King, mischievously keeping her handmaidens on tenterhooks in their never-ending search for her. She is bursting forth with life and fecundity, the beauty of her fulsome youth unbeknownst to her yet. In this oil painting, she is captured in a moment of stillness.
Something has caught the little princess by surprise. In one of the sombre corners of her home, she stands stock still and overhears her father discuss possible liaisons through her marriage. In her shyness, she draws her sheer dupatta over her bosom clad in a brick-colored choli. Note the dilemma in her body language – the stance of her torso is as if to rush on in her playfulness, but she turns back a little, her head leaning in the direction of her father’s voice as he decides her future.
The fullness of her youth is set off by the ample gold and jewels on her person. A faint blush rises from the high of her cheeks to the roots of her black curls. Her heaving breasts are almost bursting through the silk of her choli. Her gaze is resting on a nearby lamp – an eerie glisten characterises those large, kohl-rimmed eyes.
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