Year 1996: Imagine - a 10 year old, with unstable hands dipped in water colors – vibrant and beautiful, with the utmost concentration, unsure, yet free-flowing, trying to draw the lines – the lifelines with colors! As a kid he was always scolded by his art teacher, for not being able to color within the lines. However hard he tried, a little of the red, blue and the green always strayed outside, making the canvas look so untidy and yes.. untamed! The colors never really appealed to him so much, and he was struggling to mix ‘n match the perfect combination., until, someone happened. – Who held his trembling hands, firmly and helped him run his brushes along the fine edges of the canvas lines.
That day he was on a cleaning spree. Shuffling through his closets, paying his last respects to the old, useless etceteras… Suddenly his eyes fell on a black diary, a childhood collectible that has evolved. A couple of poems, a bunch of pencil sketched faces, a score of newspaper cut-outs, a leaflet of “work and its secret” by Swami Vivekanda, an old-yellowed bookmark, tucked randomly between the pages, one of his mom’s letters, a page of a college year-plan, with a name obscurely scribbled down in its opposite face and finally a school group photo- Fading Away.
Rewind two and a half decades. A ‘nursery blue‘ school uniform, life was as innocent as it could be. He never realized that she would bring in the blues of his life, and make him fall in love with the bluest blues of his dreams. He never thought that she loved blue so much, that for her he would tightly hold on to all those colors of the sky and the oceans at the corner of his eyes. In the azure – blue tints, studded with the majestic aura of the chrome setting sun, the world shaded with a lustful magenta veil, He would set aside to make way for those turquoise blues of his life, so that he can still smile for the long gone innocence. He now realizes that she is the best part of him, or the best that he will ever be. The cup will always be half filled without the desire. He never parted with that picture, till date.
Rewind one and a half decade. The final bell for that day is ringing in school. A swarm of students rushing through the long corridors, There was jostles and tussles for the school bus queue, a skipped heartbeat, a pair of eyes followed her, as if they could just glide through the crowd, to sit right next to her. Skies that evening couldn’t restrain its tears, they poured in, to make this earth and a little heart love struck. The sapphires smeared, drained off the canvas. He never realized that she would bring in the violets of his life and make him fall in love with the black of her eyes. He never realized that he would never let go of her shadow lines. They were prancing with glee, stamping into the small puddles of water holes, as the incessant rain god opened its heart. That day she taught him to dance real slow. Drenched in the rains he never thought any woman could be more beautiful than her.That was the day he “officially” fell in love, or as the 23-July-1998 page of his diary claims. He never parted with that day till date.
“…The good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye,
Singing “this will be the day that I die”…
– Don Mclean in “Miss American Pie”
Rewind a decade and this was a period that his black diary has been hidden in the closet, only to stay back deep down in the subconscious. He was on his way to the metro rail station and destiny intervened. He met the most beautiful woman of his world. The same her that he had last seen drenched in the tears of the skies, smiling at him, locks of hair running down her forehead, the tip touching the corner of her lips, and she would curl that hair in her finger and put it at the back of her ears, and he used to day dream through out all the yellow- sunshine days. His violets were flooded with a diffused amber sunshine. He never realized that she would bring in all yellows and the spring’s clover green to him, and make him fall in love with the small raindrop seeping deep into the green clover. Suddenly the memories in the rear view mirror seemed closer than they actually are. The rise of the phoenix called love. It was one the best moments of his life. He never parted with that moment till date.
Rewind six months. He could stare on and on and on to that ecstatic face of hers, and she didn’t mind. He was flying and she was there always to come around and put his feet back on the ground. That day they sat over a single cup of cappuccino, for four long hours. He wished time to stop dead. They came walking down to home, slowly. Its a walk to remember. As his blue turned to violet. Violet to amber, amber to emerald and emerald to crimson, he took bits and pieces from that canvas and white bloomed. She gave him all the colors of his life. Why? Only that, because he love colors? He never parted with that life till date.
Just as a picture evolved into a date.As a date evolved into a moment, a moment into an emotion, an emotion evolved into a life, the 10 year old asks, what better thing can it be, to take a flight with the colors, than life itself?
On-board everyone! To the starry starry nights! Lets conjure the magic.
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