The college is a modest red brick building, with its entrance mounted by a gigantic stone sculpture of a butterfly on the right. The butterfly sculpture was unhindered by any embellishments or ornamental designs. It invited the viewer to travel along its long broad edges and planes. Its looming appearance was softened by thebushes and the trees that hovered over it. Further ahead, lay a neat broad pathway with a sprinkling of sculptures on either side. The artworks were unnamed and undated. Presumably, the students had created them during their formative years in training. Some works were abstract while figurative sculpture dominated most of the spots. A great deal of attention, passion and love had gone into these sculptures. For the nth time, I wished I knew the names of those anonymous masters and little details like the year of graduation or their main major. It was a sunny and quiet day. An ideal day to spend time admiring the intricacies of these beautifully crafted works and the layout of the grounds as well. Like everything else in the city, the grounds had been meticulously planned and well laid out. Spaces were utilized and no jarring elements stuck out like sore thumbs. I left the place, with deep respect and admiration for the college and its unknown artists. Yet I wondered about them and whether they still continued to pursue their passions. Perhaps they did. Perhaps they did not. I will never know….
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