Picture of many words........

The picture was nearly complete, just a few strokes left, she thought with a smile. The moonlight was streaming through the maze of trees forming brocade like design. Her hair was shimmering and her shadow was dancing as she set to work on those last few strokes of the painting...

She was mixing the colours so as to make a skin tone and started applying the colour with the tip of her thumb... thinking how it would be to be with a person who would take care of her, protect her, hold her hand and lead her to the door, open doors for her, sweep her off her feet... just like any hero out of a Mills and Boon.

I suppose there is a time and place for everything and when it is the right time, he would come by, she thought helplessly. Until then, wait was all she could do and was doing! Her life had only these oil colours that she used on her canvasses. Real life was beyond these canvasses and at some point in time; everyone needs a shoulder to cry on, a warm, reassuring hug and stolen kisses... Yes, it was true that she had many suitors just like any other girl her age would but something was always missing.

The painting was done! It was a young girl with a white veil on her face with teary eyes. The woman in the picture was just like her! Pretty, demure, elegant, poised, shy, delicate just like a touch-me-not... except that the solitude, the loneliness, the abandonment did not quite show in the face on the painting... The painting was picture perfect but that is just what it was!!! A painting!!! The picture spoke for itself. A white veil could mean a wedding veil or it could even imply mourning something. The teary eyes could imply the happiness streaming out of someone's eyes or the sorrow held in someone's eyes. She never clarified anything as she was a painting and neither did Neena, the painter!!!

She reclined on her armchair watching the moon. After a few moments, her search for her parents started amongst those stars. She believed the stars that shined the brightest were her parents up in the sky watching her and her paintings. They would look after her until she found that special someone... Until then, an endless wait... She would keep searching her parents each night until her eyes shut out of sheer exhaustion... Sleep eluded her eyes even now, four years after the incident...

The memories of the incident still haunted her each night, the cause of her sleeplessness… They had been returning from the mountains as they normally did each monsoon. The roads were slippery from the previous night’s downpour. The car slipped and swerved just a little, but enough to tilt the car and push it to the cliff. Neena had been snoozing in the backseat like always when this happened. Her parents were flabbergasted and did not quite understand how to save themselves from the obvious end in the given situation. They coaxed Neena to jump out of the car with her wallet, just in case she might need some cash to return home. She was not willing to move from the car as she fully well understood that the moment she moved, the car would drop in the laps of the mountains.

She sat rooted to her spot, adamantly refusing to leave. After much persuasion, she agreed to move out if they promised that they would also follow her out. She cautiously opened the door and threw her backpack out of the car and very slowly moved out of the car. The car started swinging at the cliff and started sliding down the hilltop and as forced down by the strong wind and ended in a huge ball of fire and a charred tin body of the car. It seemed like a toy being thrown off her apartment on the fifth floor… She dreaded to think what would have happened to her parents. She sat there, disbelieving what just happened in front of her eyes. Tear-stricken face, disheveled hair, mud-stained clothes, she sat there until a police van came by and took stock of the incident and took her home, her empty home…

Of course, she got the insurance claim that was available for her father and her mother. That probably reduced all the monetary anxieties that she would have to face without them until she set up her own career… Paintings and exhibitions was what she had been professionally trained for. The result for the final examination was due but she knew it she would ace it like always. The results came out within a few days after the horrific incident. She had aced like every other time and was elated but the elation lasted only momentarily until she had to be on her way home. She bitterly realised that there would be no one to celebrate her success with; it would be all so cold and barren.

Life had to move on. She quickly started her paintings and set up exhibitions. Each was more successful than the previous one. She had become a celebrity of sorts. The noveau riche and the traditionally rich, the young and the old, all seemed to appreciate her work as it appealed to the basic instincts of love, trust, compassion… These were abstracts that were missing in her life other than her love to paint, her success was probably attributable to these factors, since the lack of something always gives the true value of those factors.

Kashish, an avid reader and a critic by profession was forced by the editor into covering up one of Neena’s exhibitions. Not one of the choicest things to critique for, he reached the venue with a bit of resistance and a lot of reluctance, expecting some hi-society woman with coloured hair, dolled-up face, manicured hands making some strokes on the canvas calling it a painting. Meeting Neena was a pleasant surprise for him. She was a young, simple girl in a pink salwar kameez, long hair, charming face with no make-up, hands coarse from the use of oil paints… So different from what he had expected! Her paintings were also as different as she was! They were vague and ambiguous leaving so much to the imagination of the viewer, happy but could be sad, sad but could be happy, boring but could be fun, fun but could be boring, simple but could be complex, complex but could be simple… The paintings gave love, natural beauty, feelings an entirely new dimension. They had a great deal of depth that appealed to the old, they were vibrant to appeal to the young, glossy to appeal to the nouveau riche, with matte finishes appealing to the traditionally rich… Everyone had to like her paintings.

Kashish was very impressed with what he saw and started covering up all her exhibitions by choice, now! Seeing him covering her exhibitions almost always, Neena and Kashish would exchange pleasantries and had already exchanged visiting cards. She would inform him in advance about her upcoming exhibitions.

Over numerous exhibitions and a couple of years, they had become friends. They would meet up for coffee on her terrace whenever he was passing by. She was too shy to call him but nevertheless did enjoy his company immensely. Over time, Kashish knew about that accident, that pain, those nightmares… Her worst nightmare was someone leaving her all alone to fend for herself…. And she was living it each day, each moment! He wanted so desperately to give her new dreams, a new life, a new perspective, a new persona… but she would seem as distant as the moon… So near, but yet so far… She was within his sight but not in his realm of people, he was not able to express all the thoughts he harboured for her….

Things continued the same way until Kashish had to go back to his native place to consider a girl his parents liked… for marriage. He didn’t want to but did not have any choice either… He wanted to speak to Neena but that was not feasible. He did not know how she would react and he did not want to give her another scar. Another exhibition happened and of course, Kashish went to cover it!

One of the paintings caught his interest. A young lad was on one knee holding the girl’s left hand with his right hand, with the girl’s right hand on his ear. Again, there was a mystery shrouded! It could mean that the lad was proposing to the lass and the hand on the shoulder could mean the lass reprimanding him… Anyways, this was as far as Neena could go, the painting was expressive like always but like every other time, could have two meanings attached… Kashish made his friend bid on his behalf and bought the painting that cost him his salary for two months… But, she was worth twenty, let alone two, he thought…

At the end of the day, he took the painting and left for Neena’s home. She was sipping her iced tea when he rang the door. She went to open the door and was surprised to see Kashish with a huge package. He had not called her like he normally did! She had never shared her birth date with him, so she was wondering looking at the package as to how he knew, rather whether he knew.

Kashish gave her the package saying it was for her. So he knew! But how, she wondered. Anyway, she put that aside for now and started to unwrap the package. She was astonished to see her painting. Kashish slowly inched towards her and asked her what it meant to her… She paused and wondered how that is relevant. Commitment, love, care, consideration, trust was what the painting meant to her. Commitment because in the room full of young people, he felt strongly enough to express his love with the ring held in his left hand. Love because he was looking at her giving her the option to decide if she would want to keep the ring. Care because he was holding her hand ever so slightly, firmly yet not intruding. Consideration because she was willing to listen to him even as the entire room turned to look at them. Trust because she looked comfortable with him on one knee, knowing that he would not embarrass her in any form and which is why the arm on his shoulder.

Kashish was very happy to hear her answer and replied that he felt the same way about the painting and that he would want to be the young lad in the painting. Too stunned too react, Neena didn’t move, while Kashish bowed down and got the ring out from his pocket… Nothing needed to be said when her hand came down upon his shoulder and the ring slipped into her ring finger… Friendship was the most basic form of love, respect, trust and Kashish had always been her best friend after the accident, the exhibitions, the paintings…