Painted Serendipity

Painted Serendipity

The sky arises out of its deep slumber. The cold winters have allowed him this luxury. Unleashing the shackles of lassitude, the sun will grin soon.  The tiny dewdrops resting on the leaves sparkle like a diamond’s glow. But soon they will fly to join the sky.

Here, I am awaiting my new indulgences. I lay in a rusty compass for eons. Unused. Yesterday, a pretty girl laid her hands on me. I am happy my solitude finds new home and new beginnings. I am still wrapped, but the rising sun brings me hope. 

Ahhh! Here she is, finally freeing my bristles from the plastic wraps. Ahaaa! Time for some fresh air and great work. I am getting drenched and dipped in varied shades. Oh, wow! My silky, fine bristles are tickling the drab canvas. Or should I say I am painting for the first time. 

So, this canvas will be my comrade. Him and me, together we will allow this girl to express herself, to bring out her creativity.

Red! Blue! Indigo! Violet!

With her petite fingers, she makes arcs of varied hues. Gently, my bristles fan out to submerge the dull paper in rainbow colors. Hey, but wait! Where can she see a rainbow on such a sunny morning? Poor me, can see only what she can’t!

Wait what now? Orange-yellowish or yellow-orangish?

Oh God! This girl has gone crazy! Has she forgotten the colors of rainbow? 

Where is she strutting now? Thud! The water tumbler tumbles down. Tiny colored rivulet runs on the mosaic floor. 

Stupid girl! Can’t you see that tumbler lying right in front of your eyes? 

Alas! Who listens to a mere painting brush? Yet, I listen to the thudding of their creativity and beating of their passion. But sadly, I’m not heard. At the window, my dear lady Picasso stands marveling the beauty of the morning sky. Her supple fingers caress the magical mist, soaking some inspiration. Few inspirational moments, she is back to drenching and dipping me. Let me check my partner who would be all colorful by now. 

Wow!! This is a brilliant masterpiece. It has outdone my imagination. The rising sun and its exuberant moods, the lifeless canvas is now the veridical sky. How well has she depicted it! I am happy, she proved me wrong. Prejudice is colorless. It empties every color of its shade. I must say, she is a real artist. 

Now she is leaving, sporting some fancy goggles. 

My lady Picasso, you don’t need them. With your art you can probe into the sun’s eyes.

Tick! Tick!! Tick!!! Now what is that sound?  

Ohh. It’s the sound of the white stick she is carrying. 

Holy Christ! A girl with white stick in her hand and dark glasses shielding her eyes paints a masterpiece!

Oh, my good Lord, what plots in your mastermind? What coincidences you create? People with sight have no vision. And those without one have visions beyond our imaginations.


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