The Rainbow

As a little girl, I was really fond of colours, especially pink. It wasn't a huge surprise that a young girl playing with barbies is attracted to pink. It became my identity, as everything I laid hands on had to be pink. It had to be the colour of my bag, my water bottle, my dress, and even my room. That's where my father stepped in, taking a call against a pink room. His reasoning rested on the fact that I would grow up, and detest the colour. I tried to protest, harder than you would expect a 7-year old to, and he didn't relent. I ended up with peach walls. At first, I was pretty furious, but as the sun began to set that day, I noticed that he had added an intelligent touch of colour on the wardrobe. It was a mix of lavender, pink and purple. It was absolutely pretty. I witnessed the beauty of tie-dye, even before it was famous. It looked so beautiful in the evening light, and I realized that sometimes, parents do know the best. Now, 16 years later, I cannot fathom being happy with a pink room.

Safe to say, I grew out of the pink phase by the time I was 9. Because now I had set my sights on blue. The silky colour that we laid eyes on every day. It wasn't a loud favorite. But, it was more like a hidden lover. I covertly tried switching from pink to blue, hoping no one would notice. Blue stayed a constant in my life and I didn't announce my love for it. I went about my life, mingling with other colours, but loving blue silently.

I realized I was polyamorous because I loved black just the same. I loved it with the same fire that blue lit within me. Now, my clothes, shoes, and bags were just varying shades of black. People discovered my love for black pretty soon because it spoke a million words per minute. A black dress always draws more attention than a periwinkle blue ever can. And that's what happened. It wasn't until I was 17, and my father made me my first pair of glasses is when I learned that people noticed my love for blue. If not everyone, then at least the man who taught me to be happy in a peach-coloured room did. He specifically chose a blue frame for me. And when he forgot about the anti-glare coating to be blue, he stuck out his tongue like a 3 year old, extremely apologetic for messing up this tiny detail.

Now, those glasses are 7 years old and have seen a rough life like their owner. However, they are with me through thick and thin. They're the ones I go back to on a dark, gloomy day because my father was the one I'd run to, at the end of a long, difficult day.

It's almost been 5 years now since his heart stopped. But mine didn't. So, for me, he still lives on in my heart. Cliché, but true. I feel close to him whenever I wear my blue glasses, or whenever I step into my room and happen to catch a glimpse of the wardrobe tie-dye.

After he passed away, my affair with black deepened, and blue took a backseat. We became monogamous for a good 2 years before I noticed blue again. I didn't remember it being so radiant, so magnificent, but nevertheless, my fickle heart was polyamorous again. I keep having brief flings with brown, as it is one of my most picked lipstick shades. But, it never lasts. It was my father's favorite colour, and today it is the only one of my paramours that is special to me.

My rainbow doesn't have 7 colours. It has but 3. Black, Blue, and my most recent lover, Lavender. I was first drawn to the subtle beauty of lavender while watching a TV show. Not the most romantic story, I know. But it is special to me nonetheless. I was in that phase of life where I realized that my colour spectrum, needed a transition shade, when I spotted lavender and was instantly in love.

I felt content, and driven, and just in general happy at the finality of this discovery. My rainbow was complete.