Definitely no.It wasn't a boy, was a baby girl.Yes, a baby girl in her mother's arms.Probably aunt's or someone  with whom the girl is close to, in her life. The baby  embrassed her very tightly.One could spot the stains on her pink frock - red,dark red,blood red.Yes ,those were blood stains! A sense of agony,disturbance, fear,pain was perceived on the woman's visage.Amidst the wrinkles ,her smudged eye make up,the cracked rouge lips,wounds on her hands ,unwinded hair, scars on her forehead ,poised between love and hatred, hope was seen in her radiant eyes.Poised between love and hatred-love for the child who was trusting this women for the protection and hatred for the people ,roots for all the bloodshed.

Raging with fury and great intensity of ferocity, the avengers  were brutally killing  innocent people with sharp knives,swords,blades,axes,tools and other sharp objects.Dead bodies on the ground were staring at this woman as if they were crying out for help.Dreadful.Even the sky was red,red as if someone stabbed it and the blood was flowing out, spread like seepage.No flaura.Vast bare land.Few of them were just like her, trying to look out for a escape, a hideout.They were also trying  hard to protect their loved ones from these barbarians.She stood at that spot with a thought-foremost task was not to relinquish,not to abandon this little soul,she had to escape somehow from this land of cannibals,huns,savage people or whatever one may call.

Far away,I was observing the entire scene.It disturbed me a lot.I could feel the pain.Vexed .Despise.In spite of all these emotions,I was incapable.Helpless.Powerless.I could not help anyone.

At once, somebody hit my shoulder.I was startled .Shocked to see her.My friend.She looked at me and asked me why i had such expressions on my face.

I said"This painting......it's a masterpiece"

She said"Yeah,Ok... anyways lets go .. We are getting late".She grabbed my hand and nudged.

And then we walked out of the museum after a few minutes.