What colour means to me
Darkness is the word we would use to describe what envelopes the once beautiful, green world, our world. The dark skies above and the soulless hearts below. The grotesque world, gradually fading into oblivion, just seems a little bit better with the yellow-orangish colour of the sun rays shining, as if god’s blessings being bestowed upon all of us and the pink, white, red, yellow colours of gracefully blooming flowers.
What would the world be without colours? Just a dull place where we continue to exist and not live. I love the light brown colour of my morning coffee. I put my palms around the cup to feel its warmth on a cold day and for those few seconds, everything is alright.
I find beauty in the black thunder clouds unleashing the wrath of gods and angels above. For me, black is not sad or scary or dark, its poetic, if the set of eyes watching it look at the soul and not appearance. Its powerful and reminds me of my strength, my potential and that the brightest of things have a black shadow. Its beauty is not something to be scared of, but to be embraced and glorified because if you look deep enough, you’ll see the beauty of all colours combined in this colour alone. And after all, a phoenix does rise from the black ashes of a wild fire.
Pink, the colour of lovely cherry blossoms on a bright spring day and the delicious candy floss you see in a child’s hand who looks at it as if it’s the prettiest thing in the world. The colour pink, my brother loves it. No, he is not queer. I have seen him get bullied for ‘wearing too much pink’ or ‘being feminine’. The gender roles, the sexism associates this colour with femininity and blue with masculinity.
He sometimes steals my baby pink t-shirt that I love so much. The oversized tee that compliments his skin looks better on him than it ever does on me. I like wearing his navy-blue hoodie, because after a bad day he is the only person whose hugs and pointless conversations can uplift me. It doesn’t make him any less of a man or me any less of a woman. on the contrary, I only see a man, confident in his own skin and body.
The rainbow, that adds a hint of tint to the otherwise dark, polluted sky, brings just the right amount of beauty. The eyes of people beneath, looking intently at god’s marvellous colour palette, a divine creation, for it doesn’t differentiate between you and me. The eyes of queers, trans, bi, gay, lesbian people proudly looking at their rainbow, their flag demonstrating the series of struggles faced by them over decades. In the so called ‘modern world’ where they still have to face discrimination and fight for equal rights, they seek solace looking at the band of 7 colours shining in their eyes and souls. They get the courage and motivation to stand up and fight again because LGBTQ+ community, their community still has a long way to go in this cruel world.
I don’t want to live in a world without colours. Humanity needs to be reminded that even in this darkness, beauty exists. It exists in the smallest of things, in things all around us. I still get excited when the sky is in pretty colours because sometimes I hate the life down here and find comfort imagining myself living in the one above.
What would the world be without colours? Just a dull place where we continue to exist and not live.