My Colours- author's cut

Many would have seen paintings; some of you might be the creators of one. I fall in the second category. Yes, I paint. i love playing with colours. Bright, dark and some really shiny. You mix and get more types of them .the canvas is vast and a good painter always tries to put his whole lot of imagination into it. He doesn’t exactly know about the outcome, because he’s busy playing. All his energy is focused on a limited area, within which he projects his then current state of mind. But the challenge of mind is to create within some restrictions .when you can’t go with all your imagination.

Once your mind is portrayed on the canvas, erasing it and preparing a new one isn’t possible. You need a different canvas for maintaining the stream line flow of thoughts and colours. Sometimes your thoughts and imagination goes beyond limits and you need more space, a bigger canvas that accumulates all your thoughts and then you play with them,

The “SKY” is then your new canvas with clouds as your brushes, available In all shapes and sizes. All you have to do is , sit down and relax and let your imagination fill up the sky. You have the rainbow as your ultimate source of colours, everlasting so you can never stop painting and it is always erasable. You don’t need a new one .in this modern age, this is the only thing in nature available for plenty , is free and always at your service.
But like everything in this world, the sky has some limits.

It was late in the night as I returned from my bashing evening. Never in my life I had so much of fun and so it is expected that I had to share all of my feeling and positive vibrations I held within me , with someone who wouldn’t let this happiness go in vain. I messaged her
“Had a blast full evening, have lots of stories to tell”

It’s started raining. I was now busy arranging my room and sudden message tone broke the silence. I was expecting her reply. This was it.it read;
“call asap”
To which I politely replied….
“M low on balance, is it possible for you to call??”

It was too late and I wasn’t expecting her call but the caller ringtone reached my ears, breaking the silence again and then I left my room, giving my roommate some space with his books and I made some for myself. I roamed through the whole corridor, never alone. Her voice was as beautiful as she herself, yet she never trusted me when I complimented her.
She was unique. I haven’t seen any other girl who’s more beautiful than her and she was, both in looks and from the heart, very innocent, cute, lovable, joyful and sweet. Words seem less to describe her. All these I thought while she was enquiring about my “stories” to which I replied very enthusiastically.
By this time I had descended down one level and was standing deviant a broken window which we called the gateway to heaven. In front of me was a huge valley with distant white spots. It was already past 12am. The next day had begun. The dark bluish sky with white spills and minute polka dots and varying shades of violet combined. So calm and silent indicating the coming up of a new time…

My eyes were admiring the scenic beauty, when I asked her
“So how was the day??”
To which she silently in low voice….
“Nothing much, just another day of college and studies, had some fun and then back home tired”
(Some conversations later….)
“Haven’t you ever thought of doing something that would make you feel happy from inside and your parents take pride”?

Then I got to know, she always wanted to be a model. She was so dedicated to this dream that she left chocolates. She knew within her heart that she will make it. I could see her very well through the clouds. I was painting her image as she continued speaking imagining her clothes, her smile and surroundings. The painting also included her as a supermodel. A smile came on my face. I figured her image through the dark night without borrowing the rainbow colours. Because all those colours came from my subconscious mind.

But suddenly, the painting was wet. The colours started fading. Image became blurred. I couldn’t see her and knew there was something wrong. I rubbed my eyes and saw that fingers were wet. Tears came in my eyes.

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