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Broken Crayons Still Color

He said,
“I may not be the most important color in your life,
but let me be the least used, to fill in the gaps that remain.”
That my friend touched me.
No one had ever said such beautiful words to me. I thought, who is this person, why is he doing so much for me? The answers lie in giving him the permission to color my life. And then the days of bliss began.
I hardly had any colors in my life, it was no more than a black and a white.
That’s what he came for, to make my life colorful. From hiding in black shadows to dreaming the vibgyor, he was there with me all the time. He, I would say, bridged the gap, between my blindness, and the colorful world my eyes were unable to see. All the bits of life started joining each other to give elegant forms of beauty. Discovering these shades of life would have been possible, but won’t have been this wonderful without him.
I would have maybe understood what life is, but won’t have lived it.
I would have maybe learned to appreciate life, but won’t have loved it.
So things were now amazing, life was adorable. I had stopped searching for happiness all around because he sat beside me. What else did I want?
But nothing comes for free dear.
Eventually, the colors have to fade.
Eventually, the paint gets dry and falls over.
The panes of time hit the wall, the colors just fall off and all you can do is wait and watch, because sometimes it’s not under your control, no matter how hard you try.
Yes, that’s true my friend, you got it right, The colors started fading. My brush started disappearing. Sometimes he would hide in the water, sometimes in the back of the garden. I thought this was some kind of a hide-and-seek game.
But no, it wasn’t. He was trying to run away. He wanted the colors back.
I was in the middle of a jumble. Why?
Why the person who brought colors to my life wants to take them back and leave? Before I could understand, my life was already a medley of black and white again.
I tried hard to catch the colors, they only flew away. There I sat in a frenzy, wondering what had happened.
It’s been years now, and the colors never came back.
I am like a broken color now, who no one wants, rejected by every artist.
But know people, broken crayons still color.

by Anushka Pandit

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