The Devil’s Advocate

“Don’t argue, let him talk” a sharp voice said, patting my back. I swallowed all my reason and just looked at the man lecturing me. I looked at his mouth, dude was unaware that he was spraying so much saliva as he spoke. Must be so hypersalivating. His skin looks pretty hydrated too, and his hands are very soft, never seen a day of manual work. He was telling me I should have made my painting differently. After a point I stopped paying attention to what he was saying. I was only thinking about one thing, why did my friend tell me not to argue? I was thinking what if this grown ass man standing in front of me, is right? What if I deserve to be yelled at by a man who has never seen an honest day of work?

Or is my friend thinking about my energy being wasted, because he thinks it’s useless to argue with an idiot? But anyway with that one “Don’t argue”, I stayed silent and continued to listen to this snob of a person who looks like a fistful of maida, tell me about how I should have used “Agreeable Gray” to make my painting inviting, rather than the desaturated Gray that I have used. It has been 40 minutes and this man won’t stop talking. He continuously tells me that when I first approached him, he assumed I would paint a butterfly, but he never imagined that all this time I was talking about a moth. I wanted to scream my lungs out saying “Yeah I get it, you didn’t like it, fuck off”. But no. For some reason people don’t want me to say that. I do have manners too. Maybe I wouldn’t say “Fuck off” to his face. I would say “Thank you for visiting the gallery. Apologies that my art didn’t resonate with you. Hope you find art that’s close to your heart”.

Yeah, that’s exactly how we say fuck off to each other nowadays. We just tell them thank you, and maybe add a beautiful smile, maybe even shake hands. Sometimes you tell them you loved their insights, which would just mean “I want to shove dog poop in your mouth for opening it too long”. But let’s leave it at that. Why did my friend tell me not to argue? Does he think I should have used Agreeable Gray too? I mean, fuck this asshole, I don’t give a shit about this two-bit pretentious parasite of a thing. If you look deep into his eyes, you can see the amount of atrocities his forefathers committed so this piece of shit can have smooth hands and tell me which shade of gray feels warm to him. You can see it in his face that his ass always sat in a car.

I am being generous by letting this bitch run his mouth. It would take me exactly one moment to shut this man up. I wouldn’t curse, I wouldn’t even “argue” as my friend put it. I would just say “Sure, maybe someone else would have used agreeable gray. Maybe someone else would have drawn a butterfly. But this is me. I use desaturated colors, and I draw a moth. And you are entitled to your opinion to dislike it. But I am entitled to my right to express whatever I want in whichever way I please”. But for some reason people wouldn’t let me say it. Is it because this asshole is a buyer? Because he would get me famous? Is my friend being practical and thinking about my future? Is he trying to see the reason that I am unable to?

But it suddenly hit me. Why would my friend want me to not defend myself when this idiot is disrespecting me? The asshole kept running his mouth, I zoned out. I am accustomed to it by now. People frequently stand in front of me, go out of their way just to tell me I’m doing something wrong. I always wonder if people even tell this to domestic abusers. I hear the same people telling the victims to adjust, because the asshole however won’t stop beating. And there I saw the pattern. My friend wasn’t thinking about me, he was just being a Devil’s Advocate. These Devil’s Advocates want me to listen to the world’s perspective, even when the world wants to shit on my face and humiliate me. They tell me they want me to “toughen up”. It’s their way of showing tough love. They think I’m too narrow minded because I’m ignoring a rude man’s perspective especially when he’s disrespecting me. But, I’m not being unreasonable. I do have a reason why I don’t want to listen to his perspective too. The reason is simple, “I LIKE DOING IT MY WAY”. But I guess that’s a forbidden answer.

You gotta do it the way that’s tried and tested. You gotta do it the way that the experts tell you to do. The experts with smooth hands, hypersalivation, protruding bellies, moisturized skin, and forefathers who practiced untouchability. That’s exactly the formula to do things. Maybe my friend just wanted to open the man’s zip and suck on his dick a little bit. Or did he envy this man’s textureless reptilian skin? WHY THE FUCK DID HE TELL ME NOT TO ARGUE WHEN I HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO DEFEND MYSELF?

I relived the moment he told me not to argue. The reptilian put its tongue out hissing “I didn’t like it, it’s boring”. I was ready to smile, and was saying “I understand. Thanks for coming. But…”. Right before I could finish the sentence a hand pats my back. It stops my speech. “Don’t argue, let him talk” he whispered. It now takes me back to a Deja Vu. I stand in the center as many such memories flood in front of me. One even happened just a couple of weeks ago. It was indeed a similar situation. Another air conditioned reptilian was hissing at me and telling me what I’m doing ‘wrong’ in my art. I was just about to say “there’s no wrongs in art, just unique self-expressions’. But there it was, the same pat on my back. The same friend, whispering not to argue.

And I went further back, to a moment where a group of 8 people in a gallery were questioning me, scrutinizing me for not painting in the way they are accustomed to view paintings. I was only defending myself while being as humble as I can. I was answering their queries, but are manners only applicable to me? I didn’t see my friend patting all of their backs to tell them not to argue with me. And weirdly enough, I suddenly remembered a moment where my friend actually argued back to someone who questioned their way of art. Suddenly, they don’t wanna play devil’s advocate. Suddenly they don’t want to see “the other perspective”. They wanted to defend themselves. But they shamelessly took that right away from me. They pacified me and made me a zombie and let me be humiliated and disrespected, while sealing my tongue off.

Finally after an hour of unsolicited advice and lecturing me about what art is, this reptilian decides to leave, maybe it’s time for feeding another human brain.

I go in, it’s closing time. There stands the man who cleans, manages and maintains the gallery. He said “Why did you let that man walk all over you?”. I smiled. “My friend told me not to argue” I said. The man was enraged. He said the reptillian can go fuck himself and no-one deserves to go through what I went there and he said he loved the Moth I painted. He said he doesn’t give a fuck about what shade of gray it is. He said he doesn’t like the cold nature of my painting, sure, but he sees that it is very interesting. My eyes got teary. I hugged him. I never hugged a stranger ever in my life. He patted me on my back and said “I did great and I will do okay”. I thought, let’s say this man was just faking to comfort me. But even if he was, if a stranger can think about my emotions? If a stranger can get enraged empathizing with me being berated for non-conformity. Can’t my friend do that? Is he even my friend if he can’t do that?

He stood outside looking at me. He patted again and said “It’s okay, there are many other buyers if not for this one”. I chuckled. I realized that my friend thinks he’s comforting me. This audacious bitch of a man who stopped me from speaking out, defending myself, thinks he is helping me. He actually believes that he is doing me a favor by telling me “One session done, there are many more buyers who will persecute you and your art, and I will stand there to stop you from expressing yourself”. And he assumes I would be clapping like a dolphin for his unemotional support he just gave me. “That m*f** ate my head. Why does this happen to me?” I said. “Do you think your art is spotless?” my friend asked. “What do you mean?” I asked. “You can’t think everyone is an idiot. Don’t you think you should have done better?” he asked, looking me in the eye. “Do you?” I asked. There was a pause. He nodded. “What would I have done ‘better’? I made what I wanted to make” I asked. He stuttered and continued to tell me that ‘won’t work’.

Now it was my dear friend’s turn to teach me how I should have painted the moth. He continued, and maybe by instinct, I didn’t argue. I just nodded. I thought he was right. My art won’t work. Maybe it would work for me, the man who cleans the gallery, and a few people who actually like what I do, but not for this Devil’s Advocate. And I thought there are so many Devil’s Advocates in my life. They’d want me to listen to the other side. And most of the time, the other side is the convention, or the powerful. Somehow the powerful have convinced the world that they should be heard uninterrupted. They made it a convention. They keep running their mouths everywhere, and the ones with reason are asked to be humble. They’re told “Don’t argue, let him talk”. So I let my friend talk, I didn’t argue.

I went home. I looked at my paintings. “Do I like them?” I asked myself. I loved them! So, I decided I wouldn’t let myself be berated, degraded, or persecuted for no reason. Sure, I would go through all of it If I might have expressed irresponsibly. Irresponsibility is when you enable or participate in something illegal or immoral. But a funny thing is that I have also seen these Devil’s Advocates asking not to argue when it comes to questionable things. They’d want us to look at the other side, understand, and “not argue, not defend” when it comes to moral responsibility. “You are running your mouth way too much” they’d say if you don’t listen to them and speak out your opinion. So now, I have decided to argue. I have decided to ‘answer back’ and look ‘arrogant’. I have decided to be branded as an egotistic stubborn person, if that’s what it means to just as much as defend myself when I have a reason to. And now I wait for the next time to be patted on my back and be told not to argue. And then, I would turn back and say kindly “Go fuck youself”.