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Colours meant a lot to her. Vibrant, gay hues always bound her attention. Colours lesser bright too kept her imagination soaring. Azure waves, orange sunset, there was immensity to watch. Each colour has its own identity, she knew. Sky could not be pink, leaves could not be anything but green. Moods could be either pink or grey. She wanted to don the pink of every moment.

After completing her degree in India, she sought and got a good job in the States, a career she wanted to pursue. The job required a six-month intense training which she successfully passed. This period kept her so fully occupied that sometimes she could talk back to her folks only once in many days. Life was busy so awfully busy, she rarely opened her painting kit. All the paint, the colours went dry. Suddenly she realized she was given too much to her work. Indeed life was not mere work.

Training being over, she settled to a lesser rigorous job routine. Evenings spread a leisure treat. Colours started flowing on the canvas once again. She called Papa one day and told about her new painting which she called ‘Once Bright...’. Papa was upset. Of course his loved one was missing home. He wrote to her to come back to come back to her home, her world of dreams, of dolls, of fairies and above all into the world of colours. She read the letter and kept back.

She decided to splash colours all around. Colours of her life, her existence, her mind, her soul, her very self. Papa will no longer be upset then. His daughter decided to paint only with the brighter paints. Next time she wrote to Papa she mentioned about Nitin who had recently joined a job in the same office. Nitin had been in the States for over than two years and lived with his parents. Nothing beyond that but Papa could read beyond the apparent. He waited for the next letter. It wasn’t a letter this time. It was a painting sent by the only hope, the only pleasure in his arid life. He felt happy. She titled her latest work ‘Ecstasy’. To Papa it meant ecstasy.

He joined his daughter in America after a brief span of queries and inquiries, he was convinced his daughter had chosen a right guy for a companion. Nitin’s parents too agreed to the knot. Both the sides agreed to an early marriage. Her papa informed his relatives in India about Neha ‘s marriage. Of course they could not attend the marriage but a familial stamp was called for.

Now in India her father spends anxious moments waiting for a letter, for a phone call. Living a retired life, waiting for the daily mail has become his pastime. He cherishes the same image of his daughter as she looked on her wedding day. He recalled her image in deep crimson embroidered sari. Time and again he goes at the table to see Ecstasy.

Today he got a letter at last. A long wait of course brought some reward, thought he. "I love Indian paint colours, Papa, I am coming to get them here," read the letter.

Their world was a mix of grey and pink now.

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