This place is a colorful place, color here, color there, color everywhere, transcending boundaries, from the inside to outside, colors throughout. Walk through the streets, they are color pools, from blue to orange and yellow mustard color of three-wheelers to sea green of the local buses, all cross the eye in one panoramic view of the clutter. It’s a bright, vibrant colored place. The roads are all color, the golden hay and the lime leaves, the red tunic and the crimson hairlines, the scarlet turban and the shining sand, this is a colorful place no doubt, we speak a language of colors of uninhibited, exuberant and amplified colors.
The colors and hues are often far too many, often maddening. The silver, gold, red, crimson, turquoise, blue, ochre bangles on display in the tiny overcrowded shop, the ladies equally fervent on displaying their share of tints, they are the bright pink to soberer flax, and where ever you go colors follow you in this land. The colorless water, and the colorful sharbats, the flying muddy haze in the highway, the appropriately named antique white of the colonial times, the candies of many colors in the grocer’s jars, the flying flags of religious and political organizations all add to the nation’s sense of colors. We are colorful people and we recognize our colors. The fast spreading translucent blue of the glass buildings in the mushrooming SEZs, the green backs replaced by rust red 1K notes, our color of corruption?, the so many colors of the shutters of the stores forced to shut down for the protests, the charred black of the burnt down trains, the flickering traffic light and the black and white zebra stripes that go unnoticed in the riots of color, and the painted walls, and their colorful slogans.
For years white has remained a favorite, the color of peace. Then came green with the farm revolution and the ensuing prosperity, and then white again as milk topped the charts, our nuclear weapons didn’t find a suitable tone but then sand of Pokhran often signifies our muscles, and with our madness for cricket we are a nation that bleeds blue, so much for colors!
And we talk in colors, we communicate in colors, the red of our anger, the pink of our smiles, the prosperity talked through our gold decorated fingers, the hunger through our sullied sienna skins. The boisterous vermilion of glory, the composing silent tones of understanding and empathy, the shrill blinding hues of our pro-activism, the sepia tones of our memories, it’s about colors everywhere.
And the colors seep well into the inside, the color of ecstasy, the color of success, the damp color of failure, the shivering colors of fear, the terrible colors of terror, oops terror I know has no colors, the bold colors of growth, the subtle shades of apprehensions, the color of charisma, the color of spiritualism, the colors of confrontation all merge into a eclectic bowl with a shimmering rainbow, sometimes a color increases and the other day another, the bowl stirred here and there and the colors play inside it creating a sight that beholds…
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