Wednesday, February 17, 2010


I wake up at 10 a.m. to the sound of sunshine ricocheting off my pink bed sheet. February is a pink month. Nature has too little of it and fairy tales have too much.
Pink is red and white. Like the Bravery Awards. And pure passion. Strangely, it’s also the month of independence. Which is why when you hear there’s the International Puppet Festival called Ishaara going on at the Indian Habitat Centre, you shy away. This is the month of standing up for the rights of a guinea-pig. The month of exploration.
This is also the month of belonging.
Because you venture a glance at the palms of your second cousin who just arrived from Sheffield and feel the tugs of kinship with the faded Mehendi, so similar to yours. And you know that the Mehendi doesn’t have to mean that you’ve grown up because you still enjoy swinging and she still reminds you of Wilma from the Scooby Doo mysteries.
February is about boarding passes that you preserve. A flight back to Delhi from Kolkata. When you take a controlled little trip down memory lane and levitate back to your loved ones. Don’t fly away too far.


  1. Pink is all about the Ribbon, the Chaddi, the Saif, pink ain't punk eh!