when a painting dies or perhaps killed

I started this large painting of 7 x 5 feet when i took up my studio. I do not know whether it would fit to the description of an artist studio by many artistic standards. It is just two rooms, one 10 x 9 feet and another a store room with no windows in a small muslim pocket in puttena halli village-( slum for others).

Usually I never plan my paintings, i just start somewhere in the canvas, as my conversation with canvas, colours and subject continues at some point it finishes. Or is it ? i don't know. But for me it ends.

Strangely this one painting continue to evolve almost a year now. In between hundreds of other paintings and drawings were completed. Strangely this one work never allowed me to stop. Raised and erased many times, I went back to it again and again days after days, weeks after weeks and months after months. some how the agony of those female figures never let me finish. I never knew who are they? but was sure I met them somewhere, faced them somewhere. I don't know what are those many layers, faces, shapes and forms does in that painting any more. I do not know what is behind those agony struck faces wants to communicate with me. those colours, those patterns, boat and the bird and fishes?

Slowly but steadily one thing I realised that this painting some how started destroying my peace of mind. those images were stalking me everywhere posing inumerous questions, fears and memories known and unknown.

Today when I saw the image of Rohingya boat people - and one image in particular of a lady, I knew who am I portraying so far and the brutal reality what am i in it.
I went back to my studio took the last photo and torn the canvas into pieces. a painting is dead or killed

http://edition.cnn.com/…/…/rohingya-refugee-ships-explainer/