Primary Colours

It started at the age where I had barely outgrown the target age of "choking hazard" warnings on toy boxes. 

"What do you want to be when you grow up, son? What's your dream?" The pot bellied uncle had asked, lazily licking his fingers after wolfing down the assorted array of sweets Ma had laid out in front of him. I don't remember answering him.

As I grew older, these questions turned into unsolicited advice. 

"Take engineering, it has a lot of potential" 

"No no, take commerce, banking is the way to go for the younger generation"

Aunty argued with her husband while elbowing him as he reached for the platter of cookies.

I just wanted them to leave already, so I could take some of the cookies and go up to the rooftop where I could watch the gorgeous Mumbai sky as it went from shades of oranges and pinks to sultry purples and indigo, giving way to an inky black. City lights would then blink to power, putting stars to shame. I could stay there all night, peaceful while observing the skies above the bustling metropolis.

I barely passed in science and math in tenth grade, so engineering was out of question. Commerce was the next option. Threats were handed out regarding my existence if I failed to study well. My parents even thought of arts as an option for me. "But what will people think?" Ma's anxious question had shut down that idea.

The next two years went by in a whirlwind of profits, losses and balance sheets. 

".....So when the company dissolves, partner A will have to pay back the credit from his personal account" the teacher concluded with relish, smiling triumphantly as if A had personally wronged him by existing in the pages of his textbook. 

"Sir...." I began, building up the courage to ask him a question that had been plaguing me for a while. "So, what would the entry be if the other business owners decided to give A some more time to get back on his feet before paying off the loans?" 

I watched the man's face break into obnoxious laughter. The entire class started laughing along with him. At this point I was sure I had said something stupid. I sat back down, face burning while a chorus of laughter roared around me.

Needless to say, I didn't do any better in the finals this time around, and ended up going to a small college in the outskirts of the city, surrounded with nature. I wasn't complaining, the stars were brighter here without all the pollution. Taking early morning walks through the woods, with the twittering of birds building up to a crescendo around me as nature slowly woke up calmed my soul like nothing else. 

Inside the college building, it was the opposite story. My roommate Kamal was a studious guy who claimed his position as the professor's favourite within the first week. By the end of the first week, I was known as the moron who happened to room with the brilliant guy. 

Workload was crushing my body as much as staying cooped up in my dorm was crushing my soul. There was a gorgeous, fierce thunderstorm the day before semester exams and Kamal wanted the windows shut because the "noise" would be a distraction and he didn't want to risk catching a cold. 

After the exams, there were parties. Actual parties with seniors, girls and a whole lot of alcohol. At one in the morning, I wandered aimlessly amongst students harbouring varying degrees of intoxication. At one point I even saw Kamal chugging beer after beer as the crowd around him egged him on. The front of his shirt was soaked and his glasses were nowhere to be found. I sighed and placed my untouched cup of foul smelling liquid back- someone had to be sober enough to take him back to the dorms. Besides, it was good to see him unwinding a bit. 

The results came and unsurprisingly, I had a whole lot of supplementary exams to give. That weekend at home Baba shouted at me while Ma clucked her tongue disappointedly beside him. Once back in college, classes turned even more hectic. Kamal always looked like he was three seconds away from a mental breakdown. He had warmed up to me a lot more since the night of the party when I rubbed his back as he threw up at four in the morning after drinking too much and let him cry on my shoulder while he blubbered something about his high school breakup as we sat on the bathroom floor.

"Get out!" The enraged shout of my professor rang in my ears as I nearly fell on my face trying to get out and away from his wrath. Kamal shot me a sympathetic look from the first bench and I knew he would try and tutor me tonight. Sighing, I began making my way to the library when I caught a glimpse of the gorgeous weather outside. I quickly and quietly sneaked out of the college building and made my way up a small hill behind the dorms. Once I got to the top, I found a shady spot below a tree and spread my jacket on the ground, ready to just sit and stare forever. As I took in the scenic beauty around me, the refreshing greenery I had never got to experience before in the stuffy city, I wished, for the umpteenth time, for the ability to draw- to capture even a fraction of this beauty on paper but my drawing capabilities were severely limited. Instead, I just made do with feasting my eyes till evening fell and my phone started to ring. It was Kamal. 

"Where are you?" He asked. It was suspiciously silent over the line so I gathered he had gone to the library to look for me.

"I'm up the hill" 

"Well, come down. I got you food and prepared some notes as well. Let's go over them together."

"I'm gonna skip more classes" I mumble with the end of my pen in my mouth, eyes heavy and being lulled to sleep by kamal's monotone droning. 

"What?!" Kamal's incredulous tone startled me.

"It's been the most happiest I've felt in months, K!"

"Dude, the happiest you can get in college are those few precious hours when you're drunk or get to sleep in. The rest is supposed to be hard. You'll be happy once you've reached your dream goal". Kamal reasoned.

"Well my dream goal is just happiness and NOT the kind where you have to convince yourself that you are happy when you see your expensive car that you finally managed to buy when one of your feet is already in the grave!" I huffed. "I want to live peacefully in a small place and have the freedom to spend the majority of my time on a hill or a valley or something"

"C'mon man you know that's delusional. You'll regret that kind of life the second you start living it." 

"I won't" I said petulantly, turning my face away from him.

"Whatever. There's no way to reason with you. Let's just get you educated enough to pass first year for now, yeah?"

True to my word, I did skip more classes and avoided Kamal like a plague when he tried to tutor me or scold me for not turning up to class yet again. I knew he was just concerned but after all these years of being clueless I finally realised what it is that I wanted and I wasn't about to waste anymore time pointlessly trying to fit in. 

The attendance percentage came at the end of semester and as expected, I was not eligible to write the exams and was kicked out. Baba was livid and Ma was in tears. "What about your dreams now?!" I could hear the distress in her voice. 

Realising my "dream" was the next step. After a long flight and a brief bus ride being jostled around and generally nauseated, I stepped into the beautiful valley of Meghalaya, abode of the clouds.

Time flew and before I knew it, I found myself being congratulated by the staff of BC college for having joined there three years ago today as a janitor. These were the happiest three years of my life as well- with the beautiful valleys and abundant sunsets and damp grass and mountain forests and the occasional sweet whiff of petrichor. The college was friendly and the kids got along well with me as we were practically the same age. I brought them coffee to wake their tired eyes and tried to cheer them up a bit during their stressful days.

I was walking along a familiar hallway, a stack of files in hand, on my way to run an errand for a professor when I heard an unfamiliar voice from a nearby classroom.

".......William Wordsworth was an ardent devotee of nature and it's beauty that he was considered the high priest of nature. He believed that God shines through all the elements in nature. We can see this in many of his works. One of the examples is his poem My Heart Leaps Up which goes like this:"

My heart leaps up when I behold 

A rainbow in the sky:

So was it when my life began; 

So is it now I am a man; 

So be it when I shall grow old, 

Or let me die!

The Child is father of the Man;

And I could wish my days to be

Bound each to each by natural piety.

Strangely enough, It felt as if those words spoke to me and I stood there frozen as the students streamed out of the class with the same voice bidding them goodbye as the hour had ended.

I was still at the doorway even as the new guest lecturer began packing away some books. After a while, the sweater clad form straightened. 

"May I help you?" The voice was vaguely poetic even while holding a conversation. 

"What were you reading out? Just before the hour ended?" I blurted out.

The look that crosses a person's face when asked about their favourite things is an endearing sight. A leather bound book was pulled out of a satchel and steps hurried towards me. I heard the sound of pages being flipped with purpose and soon a page with the title My Heart Leaps Up by William Wordsworth was in front of me. 

I read the words again, feeling as if someone had peeked into my thoughts and made poetry out of it. 

It was after a few minutes that I came to my senses and realised that my eyes were wide and I had been staring for too long.

"You like it, huh?" The already familiar voice managed to pierce through the fog in my brain.

"Yeah. Seems like it was written by me, for me; in a way". I said, still in awe.

"I love it when poems feel like that. It suddenly seems a lot more personal. I could give you a collection of his poems if you want?"

"Oh yes please!" I immediately cringed at my own enthusiasm before pulling myself together. "If it's not too much trouble that is" 

"Oh, of course not! I'm an English teacher after all. It's my job to introduce people to the beauty of English literature"

The words spoken with a warm smile eased my uncertainty that I was overstepping the boundaries with a new staff member.

"Then as the janitor, I consider it part of my job to show you around the college so please, if you ever need my services, do not hesitate to ask"

"Of course.... Uh?"

"Ishan" I extended my hand

"Ari" a hand as warm as the smile met mine and suddenly I felt like I found a friend.

"You can commence the delivery of your services by recommending a good tea shop nearby, Ishan" Ari said, tone playful as we walked out of the room. 

Over the next few days, Ari gave me a collection of poems which I was done reading so quick I surprised myself. Ari however took it as a sign to lend me more books, not that I was complaining; reading poems gave me a certain peace of mind I had only experienced while being surrounded by nature. I was glad to have discovered them, and Ari.

I had referred Ari to the same tea shop that I often visit so we almost always went together. It was incredibly easy for us to hold a conversation. The way Ari talked about literature and poetry and culture from over hundreds of years ago, eyes bright with passion, I could listen to it all day. Being in the simple profession that I am in a place where I was practically an outsider, there weren't many people who wanted to have a meaningful conversation with me but Ari seemed hooked on my every word while I tried to decipher the meaning of a poem or talk about life in general.

We soon went from two colleagues having tea together to two friends who often bickered and stuck together in the workplace, took walks and hung out at each other's places. I often found myself reading a book on Ari's beaten down, yet comfortable couch while Ari graded the student's papers- the only sounds in the room being Ari's occasional amused chuckle or sigh of disappointment depending on what the student had managed to cook up for the given assignment.

Alternatively, Ari also came over to my place, pushing past me and making a beeline towards my cat, coco, who Ari claimed had been the sole reason for the visit. However, I didn't miss the hint of a playful smile as a new book or a box of homemade cookies were pressed into my hands while my guest made eye contact with the cat instead of me.

Wherever we found ourselves, at the end of the day, it was peaceful- filled with lines of poetry recited in a soothing voice or a set of brown eyes staring, engrossed, as I spoke. I could stay here forever, in my way too cramped home, Mumbai a distant memory as I was surrounded by trees and mountains and stars and my cat and Ari.

"Ishan, how did a boy from Mumbai become a janitor in Meghalaya?"

Ari had asked, steam rising from our usual evening tea fogging up the lenses of tortoiseshell glasses.

"Well, commerce didn't really work out as I preferred staring the sky rather that at a balance sheet" 

"You took commerce? Wanted to be a CA?" Ari's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Not me. But baba would have liked that I guess" I shrugged.

"What was your dream then?" Ari asked, placing the now empty cup on the table with a dull thud and looking straight at me.

"None, really" I replied. "I'm working a peaceful job, living in a place filled with nature to gawk at and generally avoiding being caught in a rat race. I think it's okay to not have a dream if I get to be happy in the end".

'Wow, we have a true romantic here!" Ari teased. "I wish I could be like you, though. I thought learning what I liked and then getting to teach it to other young people would be something I'd be happy doing, but……” A wistful smile appeared on Ari's face.

It was true. Ari was not a happy person. I have always found it easy to smile and be cheerful and carefree. The most uneasy I'd felt was during college but after leaving all that behind, it was never a chore to be joyful. People often called me sunshine as I chattered away early every morning while they tried to wake up even after getting to work.

"How are you the embodiment of the colour yellow at the asscrack of dawn?" Ari had grumbled into a cup of coffee one morning. 

"How are you the embodiment of the colour blue on such a glorious morning?" I'd teased back. The coffee was the one who heard Ari's no doubt biting response to that.

The colour blue was exactly what I would use to describe my favourite guest lecturer. Ari had an aura of calm wisdom but on a deeper glance there was also a certain weariness in those eyes that I couldn't quite find the right words to approach.

"Could you sign here?" The voice of the girl in front of me pulled me from the spiral of thoughts I was in while I stared at the words on the page. It took me a while to gather myself as I remembered that I was in a coffee shop. The girl was holding a copy of the new best seller with my name on it. This was an occasional occurrence. What I hadn't anticipated was for her to flip to this page, where Ari was blue and I was yellow and everything around us was a lush green. I signed the page mechanically and nodded when she thanked me with a smile.

"Is it real? This story?" She asked.

"All characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to a living person is mere coincidence" I said with a solemn face, watching as she burst into giggles. I smiled as she left, bidding me goodbye.

I looked on as the girl I had just lied to walked out of the coffee shop and disappeared into the disgustingly crowded city. I'd never told anyone that it was real. Saying it aloud would shatter my adamant belief that it was all a dream- the phone call, the loose pages of scribbled poetry and blue lips.

It had all happened at the end of a deceivingly pleasant day. I had bid an early goodbye to a busy Ari right after tea, took my daily long walk home alone. I got back to my place on time, coco waiting for me as usual. I had then taken a shower and set down a bowl of milk for coco when I got a call from Ari. 

"Hey! Weren't you the one who was terribly busy today?" I questioned playfully as soon as I answered the call.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end was not Ari.

The rest of the memory felt far away. I remember being at Ari's familiar apartment. The food delivery guy had called me and the police from Ari's phone. I could see the police as I neared the apartment. 

"Pills"

"Suicide"

The words being muttered by the police officer to his colleague beside me bounced around in my brain as I saw Ari, no, the perpetually sweater-clad, small body that belonged to Ari being carried away in a stretcher. The tortoiseshell glasses were askew and the blueness that was Ari was now overwhelmingly present in every nook and cranny of the place.

Three days later, I found myself on my bed surrounded by papers of handwritten poetry in blue ink. So very blue, it leaked everywhere. I distantly wondered why I never enquired if Ari ever wrote anything. If I had, could I have stopped it? 

I will never know. Instead, I sat down in front of a stack of papers and let the blue ink of my pen wash away the last dredges of yellow in me.