Beauty of BLACK....

Of my long Delhi stay, what accompanied me from there was only this bracelet. The black heart bracelet! Nothing else in whole Delhi could alter my attraction or allure me to get it bought. When I was purchasing it, my cousin asked me, "Is your favorite colour black?" I was a bit amazed and questioned back, "How do you know?" "Well," he replied, "Easy to guess. Black blazer, black sandles, black bag and now black bracelet." I laughed and said that I love crimson colour also. Especially the colour of clotted blood attracts me a lot. 

The bracelet costs below 100/-. But when I looked at it, I knew I have to get it. However, I hardly got it on my wrist. I love to gaze it. Gaze it endlessly. It is extremely beautiful. The shine on the heart-shaped black stone is stunning. Even more stunning than the white beads surrounding it. There were actually two bracelets. The other was white. But I hardly noticed that one. Once my eyes got fixed on it, I couldn’t alter my attention. The reason was the black heart inside.

I know I am not that impossible as people call me. It is just my likes are different. Not pre-set or pre-defined. It is just the pre-defined rules fall false on me. And so I appear odd. May be! Whatever! I never found any reason for pink to be my favourite colour. It has always been black. And it will be. No matter if it throws me away from the crowd. I was never a part of the crowd either.

Why I love the colour black so much is a question I come across so often. And I never tried to find out the answer. It is just the way it is. Black has always fascinated me. I love the dark effect prevailing behind. Black has no limit. It is the ultimate colour. Once anything turns black, it remains black forever. Black is consistent. It never changes. White can turn black. But no colour in the world can ever destroy black colour itself. Black is prominent. Black is eternal. Black is the real definition. The soothing effect the colour black brings is unique in the world. Black defines darkness. Darkness is stiffness. Stiffness is consistency. Consistency is obstinacy. Obstinacy is possession. Possession is obsession. And obsession is everything. I am obsessed for the colour black. Even when I purchase diaries, I prefer to the black cover. Black covered books attract me a lot. Whole range of my hairclips is black in colour. Black is imperfect. And imperfection is my obsession.

I don’t know why there is so much hypocrisy in the name of perfection. I hate the idealist masks which hide the cruel hypocrite faces.

Yes, I am impossible! As impossible as any girl could ever be! I have no regrets for that. I know my life is not going to shower flowers on me. Lord Krishna made me realize the fact at very young age that my life will never bring miracles for me. But that day, I promised myself that my life would be miraculous. I promised myself happiness. Yes I am ziddi. And I love myself for that. The more complication life brings, the crueler I turn out to be. The more stiff and complex I become, the easier life goes….