“Hmm….”, he murmured.
“Okay…..a little here and a little there…..but will it be okay??”, he asked himself.
It was quiet difficult thing for him to come to a conclusion.
As making decisions was not his cup of tea.
With his girlfriend he had always been on the bad side of making decisions.
The decision to leave her taking the shield that he doesn’t feel the same intensity of love now like he used to feel earlier, was making him to suffer.
She surely loved him a lot.
The colors were flying.
Flowing out of the tubes…onto the canvas….Black….white….purple….red.
Colors make life….Life make colors.
His hands started drawing. Drawing something which even he didn’t know.
He was in good mood. Mood to paint and draw.
He allowed his soul’s freedom to mix with the essence of colors on the palette and the words of his thoughts, trying to come out from the jail of his mind.
Hands were moving.
Structure was being erected.
Confused what it was….he simply kept drawing.
What he liked was her beauty.
Beautiful in all ways that a girl can be.
Body well built, face well suited.
Her hands moving on his face, fingers entangled in his hairs, he lying in her lap…he surely misses her.
Her crystal laugh, sweet smile…endless talks…and loads of love!!!
Life was life with her.
Meaning, value, spice, aim…everything was there with her to live.
But his irresponsible move made her go away.
He tried bringing her back but a lot late after it had been too late to apologize.
He tried marking her path, jotting her life, to get back to her, but she had closed all the doors.
She was hurt. Her respect was lost.
Her love for him was insulted.
He was her life and life without respect was a waste for her.
Memories flashes are always ecstatic.
He was once again in love with her.
He was having the urge to go back to her again.
He was wanting to meet her, hold her in her arms, kiss her.
He wanted her back no.
He will talk to her, he made this as his first thing to do after his hands will finish their dance on the canvas.
Colors were still flowing in full co-ordination of his hands.
And this continued for hours.
He was not tired.
He wanted to finish the piece and then go and see his love.
And after few hours he did finish it
Startled to see the image….he was thrown back.
He almost fainted to the ground.
He sat In the corner of the room.
“What have I drawn?”, he thought in his mind and held hi head.
“How is this even possible!!!”.
He had no idea.
Painting has just turned up-to his worst nightmare.
His sense were gone.
No idea about what was going around….he went to pick up his cell phone.
Searched in the contacts for her.
Her name was still there with the name she had saved it with.
He called and some guy answered.
“Can I talk to Sarika?”, he somehow spoke.
“She’s dead. She committed suicide this morning”, and the broken voice disconnected the call.
His soul was torn.
Torn into a million pieces.
Pieces that just couldn’t be brought together now.
No news of him for 2 days worried his neighbors.
They barged into his house to discover his body hanging from the roof fan, with a painting of a girl in similar manner in the background in complete Silence.