The Tints on my Canvas

                   

The door in the end of the corridor looked familiar, I could see nothing but a little of the room from the ajar of the door. The feeling of going into the door would always give me jitters which made me reluctant to pop in. But today I am rather curious to have a gist of its corners which made me step toward the room. The room was bright like all the lights of heaven descended down and it smelled sweet that  I would love to sniff thousand times a day. The room was completely empty…no no wait there was a canvas !!!!!!!

A canvas of painting ,well not exactly a painting ….just the tint of few colors……scratches…..and scribbling…..(basically rough works)it  look so weird yet proverbial that took me long to figure out the curves on the canvas. Alas  I couldn't so I left having impression of its outlines  on my mind…..trying to think  of what it could be ??? who could have done them ???? no matter what I did ,it drew away all my focus . Time and again I would  visit the canvas no matter how busy I was .But whenever I dropped in  I found everything  in the same state untouched or unused, the same smell and brightness  but the difference laid in the canvas…..each day  few new colors…..new scribbling….and scrapes. I loved gapping at the flairs on the canvas and it became my passion.

To be honest some of them really disgruntled  me as they  appeared  unpleasant….and the other day my favorite colors would be missing leaving behind its traces .I waited long to see whether the painting is finally finished but it seemed like a never-ending pencil

The muddling  state was making edgy.

Until one day….when the sun was waiting to kiss the horizon and the fog was hiding the differences of heaven and earth I found a man fiddling with the canvas….It must be “ he” I thought….the one that is working on it always….as I stood at the doorstep think my presence would hassle him….when a majestic voice said “come in”.I went in and gazed at him…but he was busy with the paint brush……that  looked crude or “archaic” would be the better word to elaborate .As I said Hello he turned to me to say hello …..he could be the most beautiful one on the face of the earth ,his skin was shimmering like a 100 watt bulb…yet  serene . His gentle gesture compelled my eyes not to look away. However I summoned the courage to ask  …..what are you actually trying to make ??? (fumbling and shivering)he smiled gently and said “its not what I am trying to make but that's what your life looks like “The answer was totally unexpected ….”my life “ ????

He continued “yes …..the colors flaunt  the new phase of your life ……scratches are your errs  and scrawling  that made you soooo confused and erotic about things , the color that vanished leaving behind a spot are the things that wasn’t meant for you but you choose them so they are no longer a part of you but of course you stack up  their memories hence they leave behind blotches. Now my wondering thoughts finally landed on the plain of palpability .It was about me and my life…The tinted canvas of my life!!!!!
Then I went on asking…….

ME   :- when will this canvas turn into the finished portrait  ????
HE:- when you will know what exactly to do with the life that’s given to you by grace.

He paused !!

ME:-but who are you and why are you painting my life?????
HE:- I am the one who  formed into what you are…..now I give the canvas to you …Paint it such a way the even if you are not there to say….People will know what you were like and what you have done !!!

And God vanished into the air…..leaving me the canvas but  now I exactly know what to do with my life!!!!