‘Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add colour to my sunset sky’


One of many beautiful things Tagore has left us to ponder over. White was the sky while we awaited the sunset to colour our gaze. The wait was getting long and ponderous, while thoughts wandered: why do two colours next to each other behave differently than when they are on their own? Guess it’s like people; we always behave differently when put next to different sets- more vibrant with the other, and possibly a little dull with another. Of all permutations of bringing colours together, guess there was one match that was already made in heaven, there was no control over bringing them together, they came as their own. And there was the kind of feeling a scriptwriter has when he has lost total control over what he is writing, he is clueless, because the pen has its own life now, he is merely reduced to being a witness, and we were lucky enough to have witnessed it, as it came. A universe of pink fell on this little sky and it immediately felt ravishing! And we wondered: is it even a pink or a red? There was no way to know, there was no need to know maybe. It felt so warm and sensual and delicate that one’s whole self was lifted onto it. Enough! Was the first feeling, For once, Enough with the space and colour! One could now lay on their back and just gaze at this sunset forever, this sunset of Red and Pink! And one could see how it was intoxicated with the freedom of white around it.

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