A canvas

Blog Marathon Post 2

She always had a way with the colours. Red, Blue, Green, Yellow, magenta, every other colour in the world had been her good friends. Give her a plain canvas, she mixes her favourite colours and gives strokes as if she is writing a poem. A dash of this, a dash of that, and out comes a lovely picture, be it scenery, a portrait or something abstract. She started every picture as if her colours are telling her something and the picture at the culmination of the whole process reflected that.



One fine morning, she drew a cottage on the bank of a river, with a picturesque backdrop. But, what was prominent in the picture was a vase, which could be seen through the windows of the house. Once, she had finished the picture, she couldn’t keep her eyes off that vase, it was so beautiful. That evening, her childhood friend came to see her. They were meeting after years and spend hours talking to each other. Once the dinner was over, after putting the dishes into the dish-washer, she carefully unwrapped the present which her friend gifted her. It turned out to be a vase, shining in the tranquility of dawn.

She dismissed it as one off an incident. But she couldn’t stop laughing the day her husband came back from office, irritated, with his clothes smeared in mud water. That very afternoon, she had painted a picture of children splashing mud water and playing in the rain. The predominant colour of the picture was brown. Another day, she drew a golf course; she had always been fascinated by the lush green surroundings of golf courses. Her daughter came back home from school that evening disappointed. Her friend had got a new pencil box and it was from her uncle who came back from London. Her daughter always thought her pencil box which her dad got from NewYork was the best and couldn’t believe that someone can have a better one. As they say, she was green with envy.

Sometimes, she tried to use these coincidences to her advantage. She drew a bunch of yellow roses, when she toyed with the idea of her husband getting some flowers, while coming back from office. She drew her childhood home and surroundings when she wanted to go back to her parents place. She drew a nice cozy candle-lit dinner and expected her husband to take her to one that evening. At times, it worked, at times, it didn’t. However, she was happy with the rare coincidences that her intuition and canvas provided.

However, today was different. Her mind was disturbed from the moment she took her paintbrush. She poured colours into the canvas like a maniac. Her paint brush was moving swiftly; her strokes bold. She noticed that today she is using red as the prominent colour. And the end result was abstract, she herself couldn’t make any sense out of it. It was a flow of red colour, in a more darker background, with shades of black. The picture had an eerie feeling to it. She threw the paintbrush away, as if disappointed with herself and fell into the couch. She was woken up by the blaring sound of an ambulance. Before opening the door, she looked back at her colours for one last time. They were smiling at their own cruel joke.