The Colourful Whiteness

The colour white is the absence of memory.
                            -Stephen King


Her people had given up colour to mark their resistance. They only wore black.
Funny, she thought,black is the unity of all colours. But she obliged nonetheless,burdened by the grief of her people and their shame. Shame of being powerless.

But they couldn't get inside her head. Inside, it was technicolor in motion, constant patterns weaved into thoughts, thoughts into incantatory words, words into stories, stories into paintings on bleeding tree barks.

So today when she walked into the forest, she did so with a purpose, a question only colours could answer.

"WHEN DO WARS END AND WHY SHOULD I CARE?"
And her vision was only blinding white.
Raise a white flag?
No. Just raise white words and colour it with your innate innocence.
Soon the black of a ticking time bomb and the red of a holocaust will become the colourful heartbeat of a hummingbird.
 The nature is the universal truth. And the key is your mind. That was only because it was the only place that wasn't a ruin, it was whole, absolute, untouched, all yours. The only undisputed territory. Your mind pre-dates the big-bang, their lies the unfragmented truth.
"It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder.
And white will take you to the river you seek."

So she wore  the most pristine white skirt woven with the finest hope, and she wore it with an armour of colours so bright, war stood no chance.
The war ended. Just like that. A vision in white.

What did she tell them?
"You'll find the most pristine peace in the waking hour of early dawn, not during the darkness of the dusk."
She raised her white flag. So should you. 

A special thanks and a big hug to Kavita, the cutie with a vision behind the camera who turned a weirdo into a gypsy goddess.
Follow her work HERE
You can also follow her on INSTAGRAM

I am wearing :

Crop Top: PolkaDotAndYou

Skirt: Naf Naf

Footwear: StreetStyleStore

NeckPiece: Streets of Sarojini Nagar Market

Into the Blues

Dedicated to Astha and Sidharth,
for your clothes are the yin to my yang.  

There is nothing wrong in conflict.
She said.
She was a strange soul, clumsily finding her way into the woods.
She trespassed every place she was asked not to.
She avoided every road that was illuminated.

Perhaps she wanted to find herself falling in an endless pit of adventures.
Her very own Wonderland. Her very own rabbit hole.
Books can be harmful, you see. Fiction,even more so. 

It makes you believe.
But she was no Alice. She was real.
She was afraid.

She expected a real fire, even if it meant blazing in her own glory to ashes.

So every time she went out free falling, for another vertigo rush, in the middle of getting somewhere and nowhere, she would panic.
That's when Wagner's 'Ride of the Valkyrie' would resound in the valley.
Yes, she was known to be dramatic. It was either that or dub-step!

She believed that if she could overcome gravity, even if for a millisecond, she'd have achieved nirvana, she'd become her own Goddess.

So she found herself holding the hand of another. More clutching for dear life than holding.
 The another completely clueless of the catastrophe that ensued.
The another mesmerized by her madness, and she by another's balance.

She believed that they could be safe now, but she was only dragging another down with her.
You can't hold on to something when you are falling, it's bound to be a mess.

It was clear to her, as the ground approached her swiftly. She was doomed.
That's when the unthinkable happened. She stood there, levitating, few meters from the crash.
Another had succeeded. He peered into her madness and she was a Goddess for what seemed like a blink, but to her, an eternity.
He could do it because he was rising while she was falling. 

And when they crashed, they did so with a smile.
And just like that, out of the blue, another became her own.

You can hear them every now and then, as they dash for their adventures with a ravaging zest.
The trajectory of their falls consumed them so much that they would forget about their bruises from the collisions, almost instantaneously.

Are they lovers? I can't really say.
They are simply chasing away each other's blues. 

I am Wearing:

Silver choker- Dilli Haat

Watch- Cartier
Aztec print Shrug- Vajor

Blue Crop top- Astha & Sidharth (ANS)

Buttoned Maxi Skirt- Astha & Sidharth (ANS)

Shoes- Carlton London

Slim tribal belt

Photographer- Himanshu Rai