And probably for the last time; Chitraa stepped out of her art college. She almost struggled to resist her overwhelming desire to turn around and look at the building not made of concrete and steel but of dreams and nostalgia. Wiping the steady stream of tears on her cheeks with the back of her left hand; she almost dragged her heavy feet towards the bus stop. She knew that no matter how many times she tried to read this chapter of her life; the ending would not change. Compelled by circumstances to accept this ending, she wondered; if not for that fateful day; this chapter of her life could have been written very differently.

Unlike getting into the art college, Chitraa did not have to keep much patience to get a bus. A bus came and the conductor wooed the potential passengers in that same old monotonous tone. And a small crowd of passengers followed that tune, like rats enchanted by the flutist of Hamlin. Chitraa, who considered herself a human, up until now, hopped on the bus like a little mouse amongst the small motely crowd of rats. Cautiously brushing past shady looking men, youngsters hooked onto their phones and gossiping aunties; Chitraa somehow managed to get a seat. And as she stared at her now former college, the bus gave out a little roar and the wheels started rotating. The college grew smaller each paassing second, until it could no longer be seen. Chitraa felt like someone was ripping apart her placenta which connected her with the world of colours. With a lump in her throat, she closed her eyes as she drifted towards the dull monochromatic world; literally and metaphorically.

Red was the last colour Chitraa saw in the traffic signal as the speeding car came to a sudden halt. She felt a sudden sharp pain in her head as the red light before her blurred into some distant memory. The next time she opened her eyes after this accident; she was unable to comprehend where she was and what she saw. She saw people around her....no not exactly people but more like animated gray statues, sculpted perfectly to the last minute detail. Puzzled, she rubbed her eyes and looked outside the window beside her hospital bed. The trees and the leaves appeared like those of old...very old black and white photographs. Even the sky which she remembered as a vast blue canvas had become a huge grey tomb for off-white clouds. She rubbed her eyes again and again and again. But each timme she opened her eyes, it was as if someone had stolen all the colours but left the dull enigmatic shades of grey behind!

Colourless anxious days passed by, as she waited for the medical report. Then on one fine morning the doctor after staring intently at the report; whispered in a grim voice, “Cerebral Achromatopsia”. In an effort to elaborate the condition to the puzzled faces of Chitraa and her parents; the doctor explained how the accident had damaged her occipital lobe. Which has ultimately robbed her vision the ability to perceive colours! In a low pitched voice the doctor said, “ Extremely rare-“ then paused to take a stolen glance at the eager faces, probably still hoping for a cure. And then with a sigh that gave away premonitory hints, he carefully whispered, “but chronic”. That day the underdog girl from a small town, chasing an impossible dream saw all her emotions, labour, dreams and hopes shatter into a hundred pieces like some cheap bottle of wine.

From brushing her teeth to showering; everyday activities began to feel like some burden. Something had died within her. It was just an empty shell of a body...a zombie that looked like her who did all the work. At times her own reflection in the mirror mocked her, like an old widow in a white attire deprived of the colourful joys of life. She could not stand it anymore.

Life which had been; until very recently, pregnant with a bright future started to become like an old..perhaps an ancient habit she couldn’t give up. Until one day she sought the assistance of the kitchen knife to help her break the habit. And the habit would have broken had her father not intervened in time! Hugging her old man, that day she cried until her eyes gave up. And then little by little the girl started adapting to her new life. But deep down she knew her affair with brushes and palletes had to end. Thus, today she ended it all. After all, life had its own way to humble people who dream big!

The ringtone of her phone woke her up. The bus has halted in the middle of the road, stuck at a signal. She looked at the number on her screen but was unable to recognize it. Hesitatingly she picked up the call.

“Hello is this Chitraa—“

The calm, deep voice felt vaguely familiar. But she was unable to remember clearly and not really being in a mood to elongate the call, she replied,

“I am sorry but I don’t need a loa—“

Her words were cut short by the man on the other end,

“I have come to your college to attend a seminar and dear lord, some of your paintings caught my attention. How would you like to send these to the Lalit Kala Art Gallery for an exhibition I am organizing...”

Her pupils dilated and heart started pounding as she finally recognized the voice. It was Mr. Kanchan Mistry; the wonder artist from West Bengal! Did he just ask her to be a part of his exhibition? Just when she had dismissed this as a hallucination, she heard that voice again. She pinched herself and bit her lips. It hurt her! Its real.....this is not another hopeless hallucination. IT IS REAL!

“Watch your steps, missy!”

“Ouch! Hey what’s the hurry?”

Pushing through sweaty bodies, she had no time to react to these comments. Finally after much pushing and pulling as she reached out for the door of the bus; the surprised conductor exclaimed, “Hey, where are ye going? Its the middle of the road!”. Yes this was not her stop. She had left her college far behind! And now she must go back. After all had been lost....everything was over....life truly is a wicked genius!

Just when she had hopped off the last step, the bus started moving. And a smile beamed on her face as she realized the signal had finally turned green!