… she turned blue

February 14, 2013, New Delhi

My eyelids hurt the moment my swollen eyes tried to look behind the bars. This was not the first time I had woken up in pain. I was wearing white stripped trunks which were now soiled red. I was tightly bound to a wooden chair with a white rope which was enough thick to pull an overloaded truck. I could not feel my lower body, my feet were no more trembling like before, acne scars on my skin could no longer be seen for the wounds were deeper now, even more deeper was the pain and louder was the scream inside, which befitted the pin drop silence of the 10×10 feet room. My spine hadn’t had the pleasure of even moving from last 13 days. That was the only body part which wasn’t numb, I appraise. I tried to look behind the bars with my hazy vision. ‘Three blurry colored strips with blue-ish pattern in the centre.’ “Ya Allah! Save me”, I murmured, looking at the ceiling above. I had not eaten in days, I hadn’t tasted anything other than my own blood and their urine. I did not feel starvation, I had nothing to vomit out now. I wished that I was dead, nonetheless I decided not to move because If they found I was awake, they would beat me until the unconsciousness hit me again.

I, thus, closed my eyes, but there was something which deranged me. The colors, maybe. ‘Dull saffron, white, green….. blue’

“I like blue, royal blue”, her voice echoed my eardrums. She was nowhere around, I couldn’t help but evoke the memories.

January 14, 2013. New Delhi.

Paint-slingers had just left, painting the walls blue. My house had taken a all new dimension over a course of two weeks. Curtains were now deep blue coloured. There were lavenders in the vase instead of roses now.  The modern art hanging in my room had been replaced by the the landscape of the blue sky. She often kept the curtains wide open so as to see the sky. I never bothered to ask her the reason for such a penchant for the colour, as long as that kept her smiling, the way she kept me. Blue was the only way out to let her come over whenever she turned blue. She painted almost everything. Worst still, she painted the red rose I had given her, blue.She used to make me wear blue shirts of different shades everyday. Not surprisingly, with the blue ties. Although, it never offended me. I loved her, I loved someone who had an abnormal obsession for a particular colour. I loved someone who feared of dying every moment when there wasn’t anything blue around.

Everyday, at 6, she used to sit in the balcony and gaze at the sky for almost an hour; not to see the sunset, but the sky with no sun and no other color.

 

“What are you thinking, honey?”

“Did you notice the pizza delivery guy? He had blue mesmerizing eyes.” It disturbed me a little, I went to the room without uttering a word and thought of giving it a break. “Www.makemytrip.com” I typed and browsed for holiday destinations.

January 19, 2013, Goa

Everything seemed perfect for a while. Aahana wore a floral skirt, blue colored, of course. “I’ll be with you forever”, she said, in the sweetest voice she could ever produce. “Insha-Allah! Allah is with us, love”

The next day, we walked on the beach, our intimacy had grown to an extent. “Aahana, I love you”, said I.

“What? Aahana, I love blue? What?”

“I SAID ‘YOU’, NOT ‘BLUE’.”

“Stop screaming”

“Stop provoking, then”

Silence hit and I chose to succumb her conniptions. I sat there for a while and closed my eyes to relief myself. She kept walking, I didn’t bother to look at her, we were on a holiday, after all.

She was walking towards the sea. She kept walking.

I kept my eyes closed until I heard the sound of the lock of the jail being unlocked. “I’m asking you for the last time, why did you kill her?  Tell me right now or this bullet will go straight through your head.”, constable screamed, slapping me.

“I didn’t. She loved blue. Sea was blue.”

She never came back.

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