Shades of a Rainbow

 Prisha Tiwari

When you get angry on small little things, throw tantrums and act annoyed because you think I don’t understand you, when you remind me of the dark tempestuous clouds from where your existence emerged, that’s when I can see a shade of violet streaked across you. While sometimes you’re lilac, like the one in a nascent bud, demanding, vulnerable, but beautiful.
But at times, you are so anxious and restless, craving for someone to fuel that fire of your ambitions and aspirations within you, the fire to do something new, something better. The shade of Indigo so very vibrant in you as you try to redesign the monotonous patterns in people, just like the ink of the same shade of Indigo on a piece of parchment, hoping to make an impact with the words it is etching.
And then there are times when you are as calm as the blue of the seas, making me curious about the thoughts running in your head, deeper than I could fathom. Your eyes, as clear as the lightest shade of blue in the sky, the one which is visible right after dawn, pure and unadulterated. It’s something I cannot have enough of, something so subtle yet so satisfying.
Not so surprisingly, the green finds its way to you when you get jealous and insecure over the pettiest of things. It gives a weird sense of belonging when I see this hue in you; it makes me feel as if I have someone who wants me, in all my shades. It’s also funny how you undermine yourself and feed those insecurities because trust me, if I were a painter, I wouldn’t change you, just paint you bright.
And then there’s that vibrance in you that could light up my day. The way you waltz in the room with a smile glued up on your face, washing away all my worries like the sun washes away the fears and trepidations of the night. The shade of yellow that you possess, warm enough to melt all my apprehensions away.
Then there are times when you possess the strength to make me feel ever so grounded, just like the smoldering orange glow of the dusk reminding the sun that its power is finite. You make me feel the same familiarity and feeling of homeliness that you feel on seeing orange-brown gingerbread cookies on Christmas. You give a new definition to the word home.
And ultimately, the shade which is so small to perceive in this myriad of tints, but so decisive and beckoning. As bold as the bright red of the neighbor’s Beetle and as subtle as the flush of your cheeks when I kiss you goodbye, you possess all varieties of this shade, just like your love. Brave, solicitous, coy- all shades, all together, in full volume.
That’s how I see you in a different light each time a ray of light passed through a raindrop. That’s how you were my rainbow, exclusively mine.

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