ON THE MOUNTAINS, HE FOUND HIS COLORS FOR LIFE

He loved painting, but missed colors in his life.
His painting were dark, because he drew them with charcoal,
Painting was his obsession, though he missed the glory of colors,
The beautiful blue of the sky, the red, blue and yellow of wild flowers,
The golden brilliance of sunshine, and the rich, soft, mellowed tints of things around.
Paints were expensive and he could not afford them, for his father was a poor man.
Bothered about food, clothing and fuel, his father never thought about buying colors for his son.
Dejected he learned to make shoes for a living, but still dreamt of painting a picture someday.
With all the colors he wanted, making shoes depressed him, killed him every moment.
His soul regretted every moment and his life was leading him no where. His soul was dead.
Until one day he decided to run away and explore the mountains.
His savings were enough to feed him for some days.
The world blamed him for running away but he was adamant now, for he had been teased enough.
Teased enough to last a lifetime.
As he kept walking towards the mountains, he met of beautiful angels making garlands.
He saw the spot where the garlands were made and saw stones decorated with stains.
There were every color that a painter ever needed, something struck him and he was enlightened.
He met the flowers of the mountains, of the meadows and he now knew stains of flowers made colors…
He would be painting pictures for the rest of his lives,
The thought itself made his soul come alive….
that very day, that very moment
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