The Colour Blue
Growing Up
Somewhere in my teens I, like all youngsters, subconsciously began to look for mnemonics to express my individuality, my mind, my philosophy. To somehow reach out to a larger reality that exists somewhere out there, amidst those of similar tastes.
The music bands I worship the clothes I adorn, the books I read all go into the mnemonic set. One such thing was the colour blue. I like blue. I hate pink.
Blue is cool, youthful, classic, intelligent, happy. Pink is blond, baby, stupid, frivolous. So, if I saw any woman wearing pink, particularly baby pink, I was ready to judge her – silly woman. She does not belong to my larger reality. If I found a man in pink I was ready to shoot him down!
When I went out on a date I never missed on telling my admirer about my dislike for the dim-witted colour. Some men immediately fell further for me just for that quality – they ofcourse belonged to my larger truth. And others found the prejudice rather fascinating. I would explain to them the logic of it.
Not once did I meet someone who frankly told me that personalities have nothing to do with the colour that suits you! Not one who thought I was being pseudo intellectual. Either because none of them was intellectual enough to follow that or because they doubted them selves owing to the authority with which I spoke.
I am happy that somewhere through the years I grew to be unprejudiced. And I belong to the fortunate few. Well, owing to some, let's say unpleasant experiences - some people who nearly bathed in blue turned out to be downright stupid, immature, insecure. I found women who predominantly loved pink as being caring and intelligent. Clearly I was being stupid.
I learnt to depend on nothing but personal interaction to judge someone. And today I only crave the company of those elevated individuals who can see through all of that and appreciate people and things with an open mind. Amidst those of similar philosophies.
Somewhere in my teens I, like all youngsters, subconsciously began to look for mnemonics to express my individuality, my mind, my philosophy. To somehow reach out to a larger reality that exists somewhere out there, amidst those of similar tastes.
The music bands I worship the clothes I adorn, the books I read all go into the mnemonic set. One such thing was the colour blue. I like blue. I hate pink.
Blue is cool, youthful, classic, intelligent, happy. Pink is blond, baby, stupid, frivolous. So, if I saw any woman wearing pink, particularly baby pink, I was ready to judge her – silly woman. She does not belong to my larger reality. If I found a man in pink I was ready to shoot him down!
When I went out on a date I never missed on telling my admirer about my dislike for the dim-witted colour. Some men immediately fell further for me just for that quality – they ofcourse belonged to my larger truth. And others found the prejudice rather fascinating. I would explain to them the logic of it.
Not once did I meet someone who frankly told me that personalities have nothing to do with the colour that suits you! Not one who thought I was being pseudo intellectual. Either because none of them was intellectual enough to follow that or because they doubted them selves owing to the authority with which I spoke.
I am happy that somewhere through the years I grew to be unprejudiced. And I belong to the fortunate few. Well, owing to some, let's say unpleasant experiences - some people who nearly bathed in blue turned out to be downright stupid, immature, insecure. I found women who predominantly loved pink as being caring and intelligent. Clearly I was being stupid.
I learnt to depend on nothing but personal interaction to judge someone. And today I only crave the company of those elevated individuals who can see through all of that and appreciate people and things with an open mind. Amidst those of similar philosophies.
Comments
cheers!