There was a time he believed that when clouds were hurled against each other, they got hurt, and rains were teardrops of contused clouds. He watched rains puffed up with emotions and felt happy at watching the rainbow, lining the misty horizon.
He also thought birds can talk amongst themselves. Whenever he saw a chirpy sparrow come up to the cage of his pet finches, he imagined they discussed their daily miseries like midwives in sultry afternoons. He watched from behind the half closed door of his terrace, almost feeling guilty at eavesdropping someone’s cherished secrets.
Fairies used to come in dreams, and unicorns and mermaids. War meant only those against dragons and evil princes, and love meant hazel-eyed maidens and arrogant stallions. The world was not round then; it was helical, ineluctably taking you down the looking glass.
He believed that angular blue mountains, hallowed by a blood red sun, existed somewhere. He believed that lively brooks flowed from them, meandering around a lone thatched hut amidst the greenness. He believed that kites could be flown without the wind on your side.
Violet was the crayon that left stretch marks, indigo meant jeans that were a craze in the class two pujas. Blue was sitting alone at the windows and watching the sky, green was taste of ripe stolen mangoes, and nothing tasted better then. Yellow was sunflowers and orange, the four o’clock ice-cream-walla. Red had nothing to do with politics then: it was the muffler in Darjeeling.
Now that it’s unwoven, how ephemeral is the rainbow!
The empty vessel 
gre(y) words!
ah! words, now they also come with bar codes!
and yes, you don’t need to be anonymous for that!
Really nice! I like this one!
have you read richard dawkins’ “unweaving the rainbow” ? i ve read the blurb. it s like keats used to whine about how newton (and science in general) destroyed the magic and mystery associated with the rainbow by unraveling the scientific basis behind this natural miracle (by using passive murderous words like “optical phenomenon” )
he proceeded to defend science by asserting that an understanding of scientific principles enhances our awe and the aura surrounding nature rather than destroying it. your post reminds me of keats’ quote (about newton and the rainbow. was in verse form i think). i ll search for it sometime
and your post is a plea for simplicity. a prayer for skeletally plain insights. and a desire for a childlike view of the world and an existence devoid of cumbersome reason. and hope for escape from the tentacles of logic.
@ramya:
“What wreath for Lamia? What for Lycius?
What for the sage, old Apollonius?
Upon her aching forehead be there hung
The leaves of willow and of adder’s tongue;
And for the youth, quick, let us strip for him
The thyrsus, that his watching eyes may swim
Into forgetfulness; and, for the sage,
Let spear-grass and the spiteful thistle wage
War on his temples. Do not all charms fly
At the mere touch of cold philosophy?
There was an awful rainbow once in heaven:
We know her woof, her texture; she is given
In the dull catalogue of common things.
Philosophy will clip an Angel’s wings,
Conquer all mysteries by rule and line,
Empty the haunted air, and gnomed mine –
Unweave a rainbow, as it erewhile made
The tender-person’d Lamia melt into a shade.”
~ john keats
yes, thats the allusion i was referring to. though i have no qualms with dawkins view, my only contention is the “merely” syndrome: that rainbow is merely a spectrum, or say clouds are merely condensed drops of water!
@rivalslayer: thanks a lot! keep coming back!
Lovely! I love your language, so honest, yet so picturesqe. cheers!
Roamed for a last thought
of a tired night,
found your colourful light,
flickering gently.
Loved it.
Thank you.
@arun: thank you. come again! 😀
@spasmicallyperfect: thanks! checked your blog, liked you verses!