The Colorless Room

Saturday, February 23, 2008

Well, not really. Its just that, when we were bombarded with the room description, I suddenly realised that I couldn't remember the colors myself, which probably speaks a lot about my attachment with it. Anyway, its a small room cramped with an assortment of mismatching furniture and me tottering atop the overflowing study table. There used to be a chair actually. A trim, sassy one, who saw it fit to divorce me once I had accidentally relieved her of her right leg. I was heartbroken, ofcourse, but no one is irreplaceable and i've found my new muse in a sturdy cardboard box, stationed before the computer. The rusted steel almirah (which is much older than me), seems to mock at my insignificance, as I cower in its shadow covering half the room. But, like the most hard-pressed prisoner of war, there is a little silver lining which sustains me as the space (or, the lack of it) tries to squash me down. The crows make flight over the eastern horizons everyday and chained though I am within these infernal walls, the sight of their flight through the joined double windows, flames my spirit along.


P.S.: I publish this, being fully aware of the fact that it is the purest form of crap. - Anindita.