The Rainbow of my Life

Life is never black and white. It has shades of grey.
Source: http://thefiendish.com/2009/04/a-yellow-flower-by-julio-cortazar-a-take-on-continuity-of-life-and-existential-angst/
Life is never black and white. It has shades of grey.
Source: http://thefiendish.com/2009/04/a-yellow-flower-by-julio-cortazar-a-take-on-continuity-of-life-and-existential-angst/

Shelley wrote , ““Our sweetest songs are those that tell of our saddest thoughts.”

What is so special of sadness?

Wonder why do we buy grief. We sing of our tragedy, write reams of requiems and spend packets of tissues watching sad movies.

Life is a rainbow of emotions. Each color in that rainbow is important. It wouldn’t be a rainbow otherwise. When I look at a rainbow I marvel at its beauty. It never occurred to me to see a rainbow made of just one color.

I have felt grief. Not once but many times. When my loved ones died. When I was jilted in love. When I failed to win a prize. The occasions were many. But today when I look back they are nothing but a part of my memories. One color in the rainbow.

Time is a big healer. The biggest scar can get healed.

I remember the time as the train was leaving the station . It was torture. The Muslims call it ‘halaal’ , cutting the throat of the bird slowly, allowing the blood to fall drop by drop. I could imagine the pain the fowl felt. I felt the same.
My love was being halalled.

The nature is sometimes described as mother. I don’t agree. To me it’s a concubine. The spring is the youth. The blooming and the blossoming. The summer the Prime. The heat and the lust. The winter is when the nature becomes the madam, the mother whore. All cold and calculating, and the autumn the widow, old and worn waiting to die.

Aptly, It was an autumn evening. The trees were standing naked. Shorn of their leaves just like me, shorn of all my emotions. I felt a vacuum. My heart felt so heavy that I felt giddy. My body seemed incapable of handling its crumbling weight. I could barely stand even as the trees stood tall!

I saw the vacant look in her eyes as she waved me one last time. We both knew we wont ever see each other again. I felt like I wont live another day.

And yet I marvel at our buoyancy , the capacity to bounce back.

Today she is married and a proud mother of two. I am still alone but with no grief.

Just vast emptiness.

When my parents died, I had matured. I knew how to handle grief. Grief with dignity.

Life taught me dignity. Dignity in whatever I did.

Now,when I look back I wonder what’s so special about grief? Why all that celebration. Why do we acknowledge an actor as a tragedy king and an actress as a tragedy queen when it was common knowledge that she was a big time nymphomaniac and the wallowing in tragedy was just a charade.

Are we really so sensitive or is it just one primal urge, the exhibitionist in us loves so dearly – branding. I wear Ralph Lauren not because I like it but because I can show off. And tragedy is the Ralph Lauren of emotions. So to be appreciated by the society I must be seen celebrating sadness.

I must look sad though it may be my joi de vivre.

Just like that nymphomaniac film star. If it makes her look classy so shall me. That is the corollary.

Or is it our fetish for compartmentalizing. We are the most divisive people on the planet. Our society is one big honey comb of lattices. We have compartments based on religion. Divisions based on our color, creed, sexual orientations. Even in the family we divide our children on the basis of looks or color or intelligence.

Life is never black and white. It has shades of grey.

And before I start describing my life, I need this lengthy preamble. I may be forgiven.

Because nothing in my life ever was simple.

There were no blacks and certainly no whites.

And so if there were some tragedies, they too don’t stand out. Just like happiness.

They too were hidden in that beautiful rainbow.

The rainbow of my life.

About Sudhir 58 Articles
Author of a two novels, Pizza Porn and Rambler Inn and Other Stories , nothing about Sudhir has been cool and smooth. Trained to be an engineer, he realised that he wasn’t cut out for that role. So he left engineering and worked abroad for a decade. He saw three ghastly terrorist attacks from close quarters. Whether it was Mumbai or New York or London, the response has been the same - of fear, outrage and sheer bravery.
  • life is definitely a rainbow…

    and life is – as Lennon said – what happens when we are busy making other plans.

    • Sudhir Kekre

      Thanks Aersh 

  • Great!!!!! Really marveled at the depths u reached and yet swam out optimistic… 🙂

    • Sudhir Kekre

      Thanks Saswata. 🙂 

  • Yugesh

    I could have never guessed you are the author here.This is so different from anything that you have ever written .Really good,i want more such articles..keep them coming ! 🙂

    • Sudhir Kekre

      Thanks Yugesh Appreciate it.

  • Kunal

    dying to lay hands on ur book !!!!

    • Sudhir Kekre

      well its done. some editing left. and then search for a good agent. 😛

  • Deep and well written.  

  • Se 345

    deep thouhts.. have you written your experiences here? It looks like it is written by a person in some serious pain.

    • Sudhir Kekre

      Thanks Se 345 Well it was written two years ago. So not sure. But I am a bit bipolar. 😛 
      not a bad thing if you like to write, you will agree. 

  • Guest

    You must be a fan of Adele’s songs,Right?

    • Sudhir Kekre

      Rolling in the deep? 😛 well i like every kind of music. eclectic taste right from hip hop to reggae to anything that sounds good

      • Guest

        Yup..rolling in the deep…someone like you….set fire to the rain….

        • Sudhir Kekre

          I love all kinds of music. Pop, rock you name it. 😛

  • Semi-literate

    Beautiful…

    • Sudhir Kekre

      Thanks

  • I have had many conversations about this topic with friends and people interested in art who want to know whether it takes despair, suffering, or depression (and they either romanticize these traits or sneer at them in disgust with little middle ground) to make good art/be a “real” artist. . . and, well, if my own life is an example, any “angst” I’ve felt has usually simply gotten in the way of my ability to make anything tangible. . . art springs from my joys, interests, desire to live fully, my casting off of fears. . . if anything less than happy goes into it, it is quite after the bad mood or experience has already begun to dissipate!

    • Sudhir Kekre

      well i am speechless! I will leave it at that 😛

  • Well, deep feeling and a sensitivity to the horrors of life and the
    suffering of others is certainly an asset to producing work that
    resonates. That kind of angst is, however, not enough. A spirit of
    adventure, indefatigable curiosity, a willingness to fail, those
    precious idiosyncratic thinking patterns, plain hard work, and an
    igniting passion come in pretty handy too. And never underestimate the
    inspiration that can be found in Gratitude.