When I close my eyes
I’m colourblind
You make me colourblind
& so goes the lyrics from my all time favourite love song by Darius. Funnily enough only the last line resonates in my cerebral cortex everytime my husband says “It is a nice blue shirt isn’t it?”
Picture this : we are at a premium men’s workwear retail showroom and since I can’t (or shouldn’t) be disrespectful, I play the polite card “Sure Honey, as long as you like it”. Inside my head, I am counting the numerous blue shirts he already has and I swear this one looks no different from the rest of the lot. They all look identical, hanging in the wardrobe handsomely as if mocking me for not being able to tell one shade from the other. And it’s not just blue that I am challenged with, the same story repeats when it comes to the multiple white/grey/yellow/navy/mauve/mint/peach shirts he owns. Ofcourse, some credit should come my way for introducing ‘colour’ to his muted shirt selection as the last 3 shades have been introduced to him via yours truly.
While I am reeling through this question, sipping on my tea and my eyes wandering to the Xmas-party dresses calling out to me from the next shop, here comes another innocent enquiry “Wouldn’t this trouser go well in my wardrobe?”. Aha my mind goes, perfect company to the existing platoon of patloons (hindi word for trousers) in black, blue, grey. “For sure, looks quite sharp”, is all that comes out of my mouth. No sharp shooting here, though the trouser sure is sharp, crisp and well tailored; not that once its home anyone can tell the difference between it and the older ones. Bloody they all look the same to me, not exaggerating.
“Can I too buy a shirt and trouser for the NYE party, just like dad?” says my pre-teen son and I silently pray to god, “agle janam mujhe bitiya hi kijo!”
Nidhis.daily.blog 