I am scared of color though I play color

I am scared of colors! Isn’t that statement vague? If someone pays attention how my junkie mind states about color. Then getting scared of color needs more explanation. And of course statement and counter statement in a single line itself is a real terror for the reader and the writer both.

Let me explain some connection between color and my stages of life.

When I was five, my body color was fair. My mom to make me look like a princess, experimented every colored outfit on me. People said I looked like a little “Russian cuddly doll”. Thus, every color on me at that age earned appreciation for me. At that tender age, I was no chooser of color, but receptor of all.

At the age 10, people staying in my gigantic family (20 rooms in our house with more than 10 people under the same roof) always used to become over excited about the festival “Holi”- especially my three elder brothers (two cousins and my own sibling). They never had any nausea about any color – no matter they are made from powder (gulal) or some other chemicals. I am not even aware of the fact what those colors are called. But I remember, huge gang from the colony supported by my brothers used to be after my life and witty me always deprived them from my single glance by finding best possible hiding places in my own house. I always had a plan to run away from my house prior to the Holi Day. As holi day was a real holiday- never crossing main gate of the house. Fortunately, my elder sister was my greatest rescuer and both of us used to find some place inside our house to play hide and seek with color-lovers.

I don’t remember what was the color of my choice at that point of time? Probably, blur red or milky white. Because that was the time, while my mind was not properly settled between Tagore’s world of unending love and my world of study-book reality. At that juncture of life, I always remained confused about the actual color I wanted to see.

At my age of 15, undoubtedly the age of blooming - I always wondered why pink is the color of a woman and blue is the color of a man? Why red rose is the symbol of love? Why yellow rose is for friendship? Why any girl starts over-fantasizing after getting red rose from a boy and why they keep it inside her secret diary.

Then I reached the age 20, my never ending nausea about Holi’s color had not ended. But during one holi, I was completely compelled to encounter the bucket of colored water by my two elder bhabis. They certainly had their share of fun by drenching me and I felt nothing bad or good while drop of green or some sleazy chemical was dripping from my ears, nose, and head. Though the color smelled quite like spring season but feeling was indifferently hollow!

That day I didn’t fear the color but I didn’t love it either.

I always had tiff with colors of holi. At different stages of life, I got drenched with different color concepts. Aspects being different but underlying facts remained the same, and that is color, only color.

Now when I am at late 20’s, probably I have seen how black and white are getting converted into grey color, then my urge to throw colors in the canvas is supreme.

I play with color. I use brush! I use fingers! I rub colors! I smudge color! And I see every color.

Thus, I conclude-

I play color, I lay color

I note color, I vote color

I steer color, I fear color

I write color, I paint color

When I miss color, I rent color!

On a colorful note, live a color-based life, if not colorful