The Colour Brown





She loved the colour brown. She did not understand why people normally didn’t like it. They said it was the colour of mud. But mud is beautiful, she’d say, we build our houses with it. It was the colour of dirt and slosh, they’d say. But then every colour some time or the other depicts something negative. Blue was the colour of sky, but also the colour of a dead man’s lips; red was the colour of a bride’s bangles, but it was also the colour of blood and gore; green was the colour of the leaves, but it was also the colour of the parasitic moss; yellow was the colour of the shining, life-giving sun, but it was also the colour of death and decay. Every colour had something beautiful and something ugly to show, but brown was the colour she liked the best.

 

Brown was the colour of her mother’s skin. And her mother was the most beautiful person in the world. The shining sparkle in the brown eyes of her two year old sister, it was her favorite colour. Brown was the colour of her younger brother’s matted hair, which she ruffled in playfulness whenever he would let her. Brown was the colour of her father’s police constable uniform, of his vow to give up his life for his duty, a noble cause.

 

Brown was the curry that her mother cooked, a simple dish that was her absolute favorite. Brown was the colour of chocolate, a special treat her father would bring when he had enough money to spare. Brown was the colour of cola, the zesty, exquisite drink that filled her with delight. Brown was the colour of everything that was her favorite.

 

Brown was the colour of the mud walls that was her home. Brown was the colour of the earthen oven where her mother cooked her favorite dishes. Brown was the colour of her decrepit school building, where she loved going. Brown was the colour of her hard, wooden bed that was the softest place to sleep. Brown was the colour of her favorite blanket that kept her warm on chilly winter nights. Brown was the colour of a tree’s bark, it was the colour that completed nature. Brown was the colour of the stray dog’s fur she had adopted last week.

 




Maybe brown was a dull colour, but it was the colour that filled her with delight. It was the colour that made her feel warm, it was the colour of comfort, it was the colour that could blend with everything and it was the colour which resulted when everything was blended together. Brown was her favorite colour. It was the colour that was never appreciated. In a garish world with colours so bright that it hurt your eyes, brown was the colour that brought normalcy, it was the colour that brought solace and warmth.

 

And when she looked in the mirror, she cried; because she had skin that was fair and not brown.

 


Image Source : flickr.com


 


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