Grey is the Darkest Colour.

I had been distracted and upset for a few days. I even started whining about it last night. Deprived of sleep and peace and feeling fully grey inside I dragged through the morning chores and finally slumped into the chair and stared out of the verandah. It’s been raining incessantly for the last few days. Fond of the rain as I am (whilst at home) even that was not making me feel fresh.

I looked out into the grey pallor outside. There was no rain since morning and the atmosphere hung heavy. The sky with gray clouds, the pakur tree with its dull green colour and the damp tee shirt hanging limply from the string provided me with an uninteresting view to match my mood. To add to the grey, I lit incense and watched the grey smoke trickle towards the open balcony, scaring away a couple of flies that danced about in the moisture laden air. It seemed to personify death: The straight bluish smoke, the heavy dull atmosphere and the flies.

I sighed!! Nothing is working out! No plan, no schedule. Nothing!! I saw a brown sparrow hop amidst the lackluster leaves. I breathed out slowly and half closed my eyes resignedly. Life is a dull drag.

It was just then that I received a whatsapp message. The message curiously asked me not to “whine”. I was a little shocked, naturally. It gave instances, like most inspirational messages do. Prompting me to feel thankful for my working sensorial organs and be grateful for the life I had. I laboriously opened my eyes wide and re read the message. God!! I had been whining… So was this a sign?

As I looked up and suddenly I saw a gust of wind rustle the leaves of the tree in front. The dark and light shades of greenery looked lovely. And suddenly there was a flash of brilliant red in the foliage. I stood up and walked to the balcony. Holding on to the rails I could see a couple of Coppersmith Barbets happily pecking at the fruit the tree had to offer in abundance. As I watched them I suddenly discovered a black headed oriole pecking away a couple of branches higher. Wow!! What lovely colours together. I loved this tree. As I became more positive towards finding more hidden creatures, the tree seemed to oblige with the scampering movements of two crazy palm squirrels that darted in an out of the leaves and trilling at the top of their voices. And if that was not enough this hullaballoo drove out an irate white throated kingfisher that spread its brilliant blue wings and shrilled out towards a nearby pond. The wind was blowing constantly now, quite hard too. The grey smoke from the incense danced about me and instead of a macabre feeling that it exuded previously it now effused a mild sweet invigorating scent. The fly had disappeared and I could see bees humming around the tiny blooms that surrounded the bunch of fruits. The brown sparrow too had become busy chirping with its mate, flying and fighting, making up and then romantically settling for a sand bath, together at the bottom of the tree. I touched the tee shirt, it had become dry. I felt happy somehow. I looked at the moving leaves and heard the sound of it. A sound, that I had come to love since my schooldays, as I read literature that repeatedly called it the sound of the rustle of a lady’s silk gown.

As a cherry on the cake, a pied mynah came and started its crazy call. It was another sound I loved to hear in the morning. They are a group of birds that go moving together, making crazy loud calls. The sound is far from sweet. But the birds do not care. For me it heralds the day and is like a wakeup call saying, “Get Busy!! It’s a new day, and there are loads to do! So quit loafing around!”

I was suddenly happy. Very happy Indeed. I wanted to thank the sender for that simple whatsapp. It opened my eyes and urged me to get on my feet..literally. It was then that the wind blew. It was then that I could see so many colours camouflaged behind that lisp green exterior. The day was no longer inactive; it was actually full of life. It was I who had to open my eyes and breathe IN, to smell the sweet incense. With the last smouldering red it had burnt down into a heap of greyish brown. No. It didn’t represent death only, it represented any divine occasion. It represented Pujo.

 It was no divine intervention. It was all there. I just needed to open my eyes. I went for a peek in the balcony..and yes, except for the kingfisher the tree is still teeming with life even as I write this. The kingfisher, well!! It must be somewhere dashing in an out of the water, minding its own business, for I can hear its shrill calls.

And as for the colours, they really sparkled and looked brilliant because of the dark grey background.