Leaving the creamy whites of 205 is never
easy. The cave in which you have just been disconnected from your dreams. The
blueviolet garish corridors hit you in the face. Gory indianred
tiles shine beneath your feet as you move, almost begging you to rush.
Quite like the blood which has also been jolted from its slumber.
You climb down the uninspired dirty orange steps,
beaten by time, through the macabre brown of the 1st floor, trading the
mediumaquamarine of B29’s basement to the little lifelike limegreen towards
your right, through the narrow difficult path sandwiched between the loud
canteen and the ignored flowers.
You come out in haste. Your mind fails to register
the sad dismissive mediumpurple of B28 sitting atop white neglected
tubelights. As you walk alongside neatly lined shiny cars on your right,
the inspiring sprawl opens up. For a very long minute, your eyes cannot believe
themselves. The harmony in the moment is highlighted by very subtle colors. An
almost natural interplay of serenity and awe. The backdrop of the sky is an
indigo infused with rebeccapurple, carelessly decked with specs of murky snow.
Beneath that starless canopy is the boulevard neatly lined with smoky
white lamps. Careless chatter adorns the
focus of these spotlights. The boulevard is in sharp contrast to the din
of the ground behind, resting in abandon. On the horizon, through the lens of
the smoky snow, a neatly lined shadow sits prettily beneath the dim
purple. You take a turn towards the
gate and arrive at the glaring mercury lit streets of Bombay. And you are
reminded of how beautiful the streets of this city are at night. As good as
anywhere. The sharp turn away from you towards an unknown, golden as your
nostalgia running amok like fireflies.
As you turn back you see the glimmer of the white
from atop sprinkled on the trees, bathed like a fake moonlight. The yellowish
brown of B29 questions you. And you walk back towards the lone tree in the
garden standing against the might of the sky. The poignant golden elusive corner
bears witness to died laughter lived but moments ago. The mediumslate blue door
welcomes you back into your beige dream once again.