It didn’t start with Picasso, nor with M.F. Husain
It started with the green crayon that I had already rubbed on my ball’s face
It started with the first grant for buying a pack of colours with just the face of a house on it.
Who would know 17 years down the lane, those colors had turned the bricks upside down.
Well I didn’t know that I would be painting the world all new
Which will have me and certain fragments of happiness
Because it’s too harsh to imagine everything perfect,
Colours have the power to create chaos.
The mediums changed with passion, the visions have become definite
Just the innocence is cursed with black
I painted to relieve, to rant, to rest, to rise
Well, enough of too many R’s but the respite was still far away.
They say yellow is the color of the merrier,
Well gold was in which gods were colored
It just said that red is welcomed when worn
But outrageous when it bleeds, be it by choice or not.
I have the audacity to make peace with white
But this time the brown in me doesn’t like it
Thus, here I still stand with a brush in my hand
And anticipation in heart for choosing the gray which will be coming later.