The Pink Windows

During school days, we used to pass by a beautiful little hut on our way to school. The hut was small, painted cream and with Mangalore tiles. But what attracted me to the hut was the vivid pink windows. All the windows of the tiny hut were painted pink. The colours made it look like a dollhouse. The hut also had a small, but well-kept lawn with potted flowering plants for boundaries. The potted plants had flowers of vibrant colours, but even amongst them, pink flowers were dominantly visible. Pink hues of roses, carnations, orchids and gerberas bloomed predominantly between red and white hibiscus, purple lilies and orange gladioli. There were many other pretty flowers, the names of which I did not know. All that pink used to make my heart glow, and I often imagined a young couple with two little girls staying in the hut. I never knew the owners, but my dollhouse had a family that looked like Barbie and Ken and their two baby girls. 

After high school, I went away to college and returned home after years. There was a high school reunion, and after quite a few years, I took the same route. I had forgotten all about my dollhouse hut by then. So, when I saw it once again, I beamed with joy. It looked almost the same, only the colours seemed a bit faded and the garden a tad bit neglected. Curious about the fact of who owned the hut, I just walked to the door and rang the bell, without thinking. Just as I was re-evaluating my decision and was thinking of walking away, I heard some shuffling behind the door and the door opened slowly. An old wrinkled face peeped out at me, his eyes scrunched, trying to place my face. My dream of seeing a life-sized version of Ken shattered like glass as I heard "Hello," his old smooth voice was calm and soft. "Hello, Sir," I replied, not sure what I was going to say. "Do pardon me, but my memory fails me nowadays. I don't seem to remember you, dear," he went on, a slight shakiness in his voice, a slight embarrassment for not recognising me. That made me feel guilty. "Oh no, Sir. We haven't met before, so there is no reason for you to remember, " I offered quickly, looking over his shoulder and finding the room quite empty. "My name is Natalie," I proferred my hand for a handshake. His old trembling palm held on to mine as he shook it feebly. "Actually I grew up in the neighbourhood and as a school kid, I used to pass this way every day. I have always been fond of your home, Sir. I went away for college and have returned here after ages. Seeing your home still standing just made me think of fond childhood memories and my feet took me to your doorstep," I blurted out all in a single breath. "Oh! That's nice of you to come by. Why don't you come inside? I was just about to have tea, the company would be good."

I was hesitant, but he looked at me hopefully, so I just accepted his invitation. 

Inside, the home again had a lot of pinks. Pink curtains to match the pink windows, pink throw pillows on the cream couch, a subtle pink marble fireplace and a very light pink carpet decorated the little living room. On the mantle, there were many pictures. Some had a couple and some were of a pretty young girl. The couple looked happy and in love in all pictures, taken at different times and places over more than five decades. The earlier ones were mostly black and white, but the latter ones were coloured and I noticed the woman carrying some shade of pink as either her attire or her accessories in all the pictures. The old man returned with a tray of tea and caught me staring at the pictures. He set the tray on the coffee table and shuffled close. He picked up an old picture of the young lady. She was sitting on a swing and laughing, looking straight into the camera. The picture was, of course, black n white. "This was the first time I had seen Rita," the old man said, his eyes misty. "She was wearing a pink cardigan," he pointed as he set the picture back. I followed him to the couch and sat down. "Pink was her favourite colour," he said. "So when she left me twenty years ago, for her heavenly abode, I left the city we stayed in and came here. I made this house to honour her memory. All this pink reminds me of her. It is as if she is here, with me, my Rita. Whenever I look out those pink windows, I feel like she is watching from the other side. Whenever I water those plants and a new pink flower blooms, I know she has come to visit." He went on reminiscing about her for some time. I just sat there listening. I had found my real-life Barbie and Ken and their love transcended time and distance.